**Chapter 7: The Coward's First Step**
Alex Carter blinked awake, the world around him blurry and out of focus. The harsh fluorescent lights above him buzzed softly, and the faint smell of cleaning solution mixed with stale air reminded him of exactly where he was. Lucky’s Grocery.
He groaned and rubbed his face, his mind swimming with confusion. Was it a dream? Zara, Thorn, the apocalypse? The years of hell? But as he sat up, the sharp weight of memory slammed into him.
“No,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes darting around. He was back—back before the world ended, back before the meteorites fell, back when the infection hadn’t yet turned the planet into a living nightmare.
It was surreal. The cheap shelves, the aisles lined with snacks and canned goods, the distant hum of the freezers—it all felt so ordinary, so wrong. He glanced down at his arm. The shard, now a tattoo etched into his skin, pulsed faintly, confirming that everything he remembered had been real.
A memory flashed in his mind: standing atop a crumbling skyscraper, the infected swarming below, Zara shouting at him to jump. The shard’s energy had saved him then, burning a path through the creatures. And now, it hummed quietly, a reminder of what was coming.
**“Hey, lazy ass!”**
The voice cut through the air like a whip, dragging Alex out of his thoughts.
Alex turned to see Danny Torres, the store’s resident bully, leaning against the break room door with that signature smirk that Alex had come to hate. Danny was in his mid-twenties, stocky and broad-shouldered, with a buzz cut and a tattoo of a snarling wolf on his neck. He wasn’t just a bully—he was part of a local gang that everyone in the area knew to avoid.
“Didn’t I tell you to stock aisle five? Or were you too busy daydreaming about being a hero or something?” Danny sneered, stepping closer.
Alex clenched his fists, his mind flashing back to the countless humiliations Danny had put him through. The name-calling, the subtle shoves when no one was looking, the “accidental” spills he’d force Alex to clean up. And worse, the threats.
“Just give me a minute,” Alex said, his voice steady but low.
Danny tilted his head, feigning mock confusion. “A minute? Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize you were the boss now.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot and reeking of gum. “Or maybe you think you’re too good for this job. Is that it, Carter?”
“No,” Alex replied, his jaw tight.
“Then move your ass before I move it for you,” Danny snapped, shoving Alex’s shoulder hard enough to make him stumble back a step.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
Alex’s muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at him to fight back. He had survived the apocalypse, fought off hordes of infected, and endured betrayals far worse than this. But here, in this moment, he was powerless. Danny wasn’t alone—his gang had eyes everywhere. Even if Alex fought back, they’d retaliate. Broken windows, slashed tires, graffiti on his apartment door… He knew how it would go.
Danny chuckled, clearly enjoying the internal struggle playing out on Alex’s face. “That’s what I thought. Now get to work, loser.”
---
Later, Alex found himself in the break room, staring into a steaming cup of cheap coffee. His hands were trembling—not from fear of Danny, but from the flood of memories crashing into him.
Twenty years. Twenty goddamn years of hell.
He remembered the nights spent scavenging in abandoned cities, the infected howling in the distance. He remembered the hunger that gnawed at his stomach until he thought he’d collapse. The freezing nights spent huddled in ruins, his breath fogging the air as he tried to will himself to sleep. He had been nothing more than a weakling back then—an orphan, alone and desperate. The apocalypse had no pity for the vulnerable, and Alex had learned that the hard way.
There were times he had been forced to pick through garbage just to survive. Once, he’d fought a stray dog over a moldy loaf of bread, tears streaming down his face as he clutched his pitiful prize. He had been terrified of everything: the infected, the gangs, even the shadows that danced in the firelight.
But the worst part wasn’t the hunger or the cold. It was the helplessness. Watching people he cared about slip away because he was too weak to save them. The faces haunted him still—a scavenger group he had joined, torn apart by infected; a woman who had shared her last meal with him, only to be betrayed by another survivor. And Zara… Zara had always been there, pulling him back from the edge, pushing him to keep going when all he wanted to do was give up.
The infected weren’t the worst part. Humans were. Gangs that roamed the wastelands, taking what they wanted, leaving nothing but ashes in their wake. Danny… Danny had been there too, in the shelter. The same smug grin, the same cruel attitude. He’d ruined Alex’s reputation back then, spreading lies, turning the others against him. And now, here they were again, with Danny still tormenting him like nothing had changed.
But Alex had changed.
---
By the time his shift ended, Alex was drained—not from work, but from the mental battle of holding himself back. He walked the short distance to his apartment, the streetlights flickering as moths swirled around them.
The city felt both familiar and alien. The hum of distant traffic, the faint music spilling out from a nearby bar, the chatter of pedestrians—all of it was so mundane, yet Alex couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness. He knew what was coming. The meteorites, the infection, the collapse of everything. It was like watching a play where you already knew the ending.
His apartment was as he remembered it: small, cluttered, with peeling wallpaper and a faint smell of dampness. But it was a roof over his head, and for now, it would do.
As he locked the door behind him, his eyes fell on the notebook sitting on his desk. He grabbed it, flipping to a fresh page, and began scribbling furiously.
**The Plan**
**Stockpile Supplies:**
- Food: Canned goods, rice, pasta, and anything with a long shelf life.
- Water: Bottled water and a few portable water filters.
- Medicine: Painkillers, antibiotics, bandages, and first-aid kits.
- Weapons: Metal pipes, knives, machetes.
- Look online for anything affordable and discreet.
**Safe Location:**
- Find a building with strong doors and few windows.
- Stock it with supplies before the chaos starts.
**Avoid Drawing Attention:**
- Don’t let Danny or anyone notice anything. They’ll either steal or destroy it. In the apocalypse, humans were far worse than the beasts.
As he wrote, Alex muttered under his breath, talking himself through the plan.
“Food first,” he said, circling the word. “People are going to raid stores as soon as the news breaks. Canned goods, ramen, jerky… whatever I can carry. And water. Gotta have enough to last at least a month.”
He paused, tapping his pen against the notebook. “Weapons… I’ll start with what’s easy. Metal pipes are cheap. A machete would be good, but I’ve gotta be careful. Can’t exactly walk around with that sticking out of my bag.”
His eyes drifted to the tattoo on his arm. “And then there’s this. The shard. I still don’t know what it’s doing to me, but it’s gotta mean something. Maybe…” He trailed off, shaking his head.
---
The night was quiet as Alex moved around his apartment, making a mental inventory of what he already had. A few cans of beans in the cupboard, a flashlight with half-dead batteries, and a rusty pocket knife. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
As he stared out the window at the city below, he clenched his fists. *This time, I’m ready. I know what’s coming. I won’t let them break me again.*
The week ahead would be the hardest of his life, but Alex was no stranger
to hard. He had survived the apocalypse once. Now, he had the chance to do it right.
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