I awoke at dawn feeling foggy and disoriented after a night spent adrift at sea. I had fled the outbreak on a stolen boat, plagued by restless sleep and the gnawing pangs of hunger. Slowly sitting up, I winced at the stiffness in my back and neck from sleeping on the hard cabin floor. As I blinked blearily, trying to clear the haze, fragments of memories started to emerge—my name was Haito Kamura, and I was twenty years old, according to the driver's license I had found in my wallet. But beyond those sparse details, my origins were a complete mystery to me. I had no recollection of any family, friends, or life prior to...prior to what? Flickers of some vaguely ominous facility surfaced momentarily, only to fade back into obscurity.
I rose unsteadily to my feet and caught a glimpse of my disheveled reflection in the grimy cabin mirror. My messy black hair stuck out at odd angles, and my rumpled, creased clothing reflected the toll of my recent tribulations. But despite the undeniable fatigue clouding my features, a fierce determination still managed to burn in my piercing brown eyes. Survival had now become my sole focus and purpose.
I rummaged through my meager belongings, double-checking the pathetically limited supplies I had managed to gather in my hasty escape. I still had one uneaten Mars bar, half a small bottle of water, and the remains of the cheese sandwich I had scavenged. Hardly enough sustenance to last more than a day at most. My empty stomach rumbled loudly in protest, making its neglected state painfully clear.
After using the tiny, cramped bathroom located at the back of the cabin and freshening up as best I could with my sparse resources, I continued taking stock of my situation. The boat I had stolen in my desperate bid for freedom was a spacious Boston Whaler center console vessel, ideally equipped for extended trips out on the open water. But my amateurish attempt at fishing the previous day had proven frustratingly fruitless. With food already so scarce, I knew I could ill afford any further missteps or oversights.
As the morning sun rose higher in the otherwise clear blue sky overhead, the gnawing hunger pangs in my belly became increasingly impossible to ignore. I stared longingly at the enticingly intact Mars bar sitting beside me, before quickly reminding myself that I needed to conserve every last morsel of sustenance that I had left. I allowed myself just two small sips of water from the bottle to wet my parched throat, and spent the next few hours studying the boat's map and taking thorough stock of its meager supplies.
According to the detailed map I found tucked away in the cabin, I was approximately 30 kilometers south of Tokyo, having likely originated from somewhere in the Izu Islands based on my current position. If I could somehow safely make it back to shore, the city of Yokohama seemed like it could potentially offer my best chance of scavenging additional food and other critical resources that I desperately needed. But attempting to reach the shoreline meant braving streets that were in all likelihood crawling with the living dead by this point. Extreme caution and stealth would be essential to avoiding contact and likely infection.
As the midday sun beat relentlessly down from directly overhead, I carefully considered my very limited options. I could continue attempting to fish from the relative safety of the boat, but with my dwindling supply of bait after yesterday's failed efforts, it seemed like an increasingly risky endeavor. Heading inland to search for provisions was a dangerous proposition, but staying aboard the boat indefinitely offered extremely limited long-term viability. Perhaps if I managed to reach the shoreline under the cover of darkness, I could evade detection by any infected and slip away unnoticed...
These anxious deliberations preoccupied me until I noticed the sun finally beginning to dip lower in the sky, heralding the gradual onset of night. Soon it would be pitch black outside. Acting instinctively, I switched off all the exterior and interior lights, cloaking myself in protective darkness to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. Despite the world apparently crumbling into inexplicable chaos all around me, I clung to the remnants of routine and normalcy, brushing my teeth with my limited supply of water before settling down on the hard floor to try and get some fitful rest.
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But as I quickly came to realize, new and unimaginable challenges awaited me in this harsh new landscape I found myself in. No amount of tactical preparation or rational planning could make me adequately ready for the jolting sounds that disturbed my restless attempts at sleep that night. Ominous scraping and scratching against the exterior hull jolted me abruptly awake, sending my pulse racing uncontrollably. In my panicked state of mind, I imagined the source could be either a zombie that had waded into the waters offshore, or perhaps a desperate survivor trying to board my vessel in search of supplies or refuge.
The minutes crawled by with agonizing tediousness as I waited tensely for any hint of additional sounds or movement, drenched in apprehensive dread. But eventually the mysterious noises faded back into silence, and I was able to breathe a marginal sigh of relief. Still, the encounter left me feeling deeply shaken, a stark reminder that I could not afford to let my guard down again, even for a moment. Out here, such lapses in vigilance could easily cost me my life.
Somehow, amidst the nearly overwhelming hypervigilance, I did eventually manage to fall into a deep, exhaustion-fueled sleep, lulled by the gentle rocking motions of the boat on the open water. But when I awoke again the next morning, I knew that I needed to begin preparing to make landfall again soon, no matter the risks involved. I was running dangerously low on provisions, and desperately needed to secure additional critical supplies if I hoped to have any viable chance of continued survival. With my memories still fragmented and my past shrouded in mystery, this small boat now felt like the only familiar sanctuary I had left in an increasingly strange new world.
As the days wore on, I started to gradually adjust to the repetitive rhythms and routines of life on the open seas. The mornings were largely spent fishing off the sides of the boat or tending to the small engine and taking inventory of my rapidly dwindling supplies. The glaring hot afternoons were passed hiding below deck in the shade, slowly rationing out a few small bites of food when my hunger became unbearable, and sipping sparingly from my water bottle. The evenings were reserved for planning out my next moves, securing the boat for the impending night ahead, and attempting to dredge up any additional memories that might further illuminate my still murky past.
The fishing in particular remained a frustratingly unfruitful endeavor, even as I moved around to new locations, forcing me to continue making the remaining Mars bars and bottled water last far longer than I had hoped would be necessary. But at the very least, the boat's small diesel engine continued humming along relatively smoothly and reliably. As long as nothing went mechanically awry, I could potentially bide my time out here until I worked up the courage or desperation to attempt making landfall again. But the risks associated with that reality still weighed upon my mind heavily.
My memories continued trickling back in small fragmented pieces as the days slipped steadily by. I was able to recollect infiltrating some kind of research facility in the dead of night, gathering intel related to illegal and highly unethical human experiments that were being conducted. After two harrowing nights immersed in that environment, I had managed to slip away unnoticed under the early morning cover of darkness, fleeing the grounds on a stolen motorbike. But government security forces had been hot on my trail...there was some kind of accident, careening off a steep cliffside road...then just ominous darkness. How I could have possibly survived such an ordeal and ended up washed ashore on that pier remained a profound and confounding mystery to me.
In my restless, intermittent dreams, visceral flashes of imagery and impressions continued bubbling to the surface. I recalled the shocked and panicked faces of scientists and researchers present in the facility when their consciousness alteration experiments went horribly wrong, somehow spawning the nightmarish bloodthirsty undead creatures that were now overrunning civilization. While many of the finer details from my time there still remained maddeningly hazy to me, one question haunted my thoughts - had I perhaps played some direct role in recklessly unleashing this inexplicable catastrophe upon the entire world? Feelings of guilt and overwhelming dread permeated my already troubled sleep.
After nearly an entire week spent adrift in solitude aboard the small boat, I finally began devising a tentative plan for attempting to make landfall again under the cover of darkness. I intended to aim for a remote section of beach close to the outskirts of Yokohama, near a large looming cliff face that would help conceal my arrival. With any luck, once ashore I could locate an abandoned vehicle of some kind nearby and carefully make my way further inland, scavenging whatever materials and provisions I was able to find in this dangerous new world. I knew that I would need to siphon gas where I could and evade the infected at all costs. But if I could successfully secure additional food, water, weapons and tools - I might just be able to survive aboard the boat offshore for the foreseeable future.
When the fateful night finally arrived after days of ceaseless apprehension, my stomach churned with intense anxiety about the grim unknowns that surely awaited me onshore. But I had already come much too far and endured too much to turn back from this perilous but necessary gambit now. I could not afford to squander what might be my only chance to obtain the essential life-saving supplies my survival depended upon. As I carefully guided the gently bobbing boat toward the darkened abandoned shoreline, I attempted to steady my shaking hands and steel my nerves for the hazards and horrors that were doubtlessly awaiting me on land.