After last night's nightmare, Zion knew he couldn't stay in the clothing store any longer. Despite feeling a bit reluctant, he was determined to leave this safe haven and embark on a journey to find more resources. Before leaving, Zion glanced at Chris's body, silently praying for his friend to rest in peace. To prevent Chris's body from being desecrated by zombies or other mutated creatures, he covered it with some fabric and sealed the doors and windows as best as he could.
After locking the back door, Zion stepped out of the clothing store. The sunlight shone on the deserted street, casting an eerie calmness in the air. Taking a deep breath, Zion prepared himself for new challenges. He decided to search the commercial street, hoping to find some supplies. He walked cautiously along the street, always on high alert. The silence was unnerving, with no zombies in sight, making him feel a mix of relief and unease. "Maybe last night's explosion scared them away," Zion thought, trying to stay calm.
He passed several stores, attempting to open the doors, but they were all locked. Zion didn't dare break the glass with a stone or any hard object, fearing it would attract more trouble. He knew that even the slightest noise could bring zombies swarming.
Just as he was starting to feel desperate, Zion spotted a bar called "The Old Captain." The door was slightly ajar, almost as if inviting him in. Zion approached cautiously, gently pushed the door open, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. The bar was dimly lit, with a stale smell of alcohol and tobacco lingering in the air, indicating that no one had been here for a long time.
Zion looked around, seeing the chairs and tables scattered about, and the shelves still stocked with various bottles of liquor. He walked up to the bar counter, picked up a bottle of whiskey, thinking that this could be very useful in the post-apocalyptic world. Alcohol could be used for emergency disinfection or even to give people a bit of courage in these dire times.
"Finally, some luck," he muttered to himself, placing the whiskey in his backpack. Suddenly, Zion thought about whether he could replicate the whiskey. Having never reached the legal drinking age in either of his lifetimes, Zion had never tasted any alcohol. Plus, with the constant danger, he didn't want to risk getting drunk. Maybe I can try taking a sip and then spit it out? But what are the conditions for triggering my ability? Do I need to come into contact with the food, or must I consume it? With that thought, Zion decided to experiment. He poured a little whiskey into his palm, closed his eyes, and focused on the liquid. Suddenly, a familiar sensation washed over him—could he summon whiskey now? Zion eagerly tested it, and sure enough, a glob of whiskey formed in the air before him. It had the fragrance and the scent of alcohol. It seemed he had succeeded. Zion was overjoyed!
"This ability is amazing!" Zion exclaimed with excitement.
He quickly set to work, replicating the various liquors in the bar and carefully placing the most expensive-looking bottles into his backpack. With a full backpack of alcohol, he felt a sense of satisfaction and hope. These bottles could be used for trading supplies, as disinfectants, or even to make Molotov cocktails to fend off monsters.
He continued searching the bar, hoping to find more useful items. Zion rummaged through the area behind the bar and found a few more bottles of different types of alcohol, as well as some matches and candles for lighting. "These will come in handy." He placed the matches and candles into his backpack, ensuring they were secure to avoid damage.
In the bar office's drawer, he found a folding knife that could be used for self-defense.
"Great, a weapon for self-defense." However, a few seconds later, Zion frowned. "This might scare off ordinary people, but I don't know any combat techniques. If I encounter zombies, there's no way I can use this knife to fight them off." Remembering the urgent situation when he rescued Chris, Zion felt a pang of anxiety. "It seems I need to develop my ability further. In critical moments, I'll have to rely on it."
Zion decided to take a short break. He sat at the bar counter and took out an empty water bottle he had grabbed while escaping from the apartment. He focused, trying to summon hot coffee directly into the bottle, and succeeded.
"This ability is really useful," Zion remarked. Then he summoned a steaming hot burger. Eating the burger, Zion thought, "Maybe in this apocalypse, only I can enjoy a hot burger like this. I have to survive! I'll use my ability to give myself a better life." The aroma of the burger was enticing, and the juicy meat patty with its delicious sauce momentarily made him forget all his troubles and fears.
After eating and resting for a bit, Zion knew he couldn't stay there for long.
"I need to go to a place with more people," Zion thought, recalling scenes from movies and books he had seen in his previous life. "Large supermarkets, police stations, or government buildings might be survivor gathering spots. If only I had a phone, I could check social media for information. But since coming to this world, I haven't touched a phone. Initially, I was too weak, and after the explosion, I fled too hastily to think about my phone."
Reviewing his memory of the area, Zion remembered that about two blocks from this commercial street was the local police station. Zion decided that his next stop would be the police station. "Let's see if there are any survivors at the police station. If there are still police officers, that would be great. I can support them with my ability. Even in the worst-case scenario, I might find some defensive equipment."
The streets were still deserted, with only the wind rustling the dust and leaves on the ground. Zion quickened his pace, feeling his heartbeat gradually calm down. After a while, he finally saw the police station building. The police station appeared sturdy and imposing, but now it looked particularly desolate and isolated.
He approached slowly, noticing that most of the windows were broken and the iron fence at the entrance was covered in dust and rust. Zion stopped, looked around to ensure there were no zombies, and then continued forward.
At the front door of the police station, Zion took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy iron door. The door creaked loudly, making his heart skip a beat. Inside the building, the light was even dimmer, and his footsteps echoed in the empty corridors. Zion felt a chill run down his spine. He tightened his grip on the folding knife, trying to stay calm.
The lobby was filled with overturned desks and chairs, scattered papers, and debris everywhere. Zion approached one of the desks and found an emergency notice detailing the city's zombie crisis and evacuation plan. He picked it up and read it carefully, hoping to find useful information. The content made him nervous and uneasy. The situation here was worse than he had imagined.
As he pondered his next move, he suddenly heard a faint noise, like something moving. Zion immediately became alert, slowly turning towards the sound. He raised the folding knife, his heart racing and every nerve in his body on edge.
In the shadows, a figure slowly emerged. Zion held his breath, trying to make out what it was. As the figure came into the dim light, he sighed with relief. It was an injured kitten, struggling to drag its leg.
"It's just you, scared me to death," Zion muttered, putting away his knife. He gently picked up the kitten, softly stroking its head, trying to comfort it.
Zion gently stroked the kitten's head and conjured a piece of chicken in his other hand. The tiny milk cat, smelling the meat, immediately pounced on it, hungrily devouring the large piece despite its small size, which made for a slightly comical sight.
"Cute little thing, eat up. Stick with me, and you'll have meat every day." The kitten seemed to understand Zion's words, looked up and meowed at him before continuing to eat. Watching this heartwarming scene, Zion felt a warmth inside. Despite the terrifying world outside, this moment brought him rare peace and tranquility.
After feeding the kitten, Zion decided to continue exploring the police station. He knew that any resources he found here could be crucial for his survival. He softly spoke to the kitten, "Come on, let's see what else we can find." The kitten, seemingly understanding his intent, followed him obediently.
Taking a deep breath, Zion led the kitten through the dark police station, each step taken with utmost caution. He knew that one wrong move could spell disaster for both of them.