The city, once teeming with the vibrant energy of life, now lay in ruins. The once-familiar streets were now unrecognizable, their familiar landscapes shrouded in smoke and ashes. The fires that blazed wildly added a surreal, nightmarish atmosphere to the already tragic tableau. The once-busy streets now echoed with the eerie silence of death, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that had once flourished there, leaving Harley to grapple with the overwhelming sense of loss and despair that engulfed the crumbling city.

The streets were bathed in an unsettling chiaroscuro, the orange glow of the fire contrasting sharply with the surrounding darkness. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burning debris, creating an oppressive atmosphere that weighed heavily on Harley's senses, serving as a stark reminder of the devastating events that had transpired. He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sadness and anger at the loss that had struck his beloved city.

Harley took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm himself and clear his racing thoughts. He knew that panicking would only hinder his ability to make rational decisions in this critical situation. Composing himself, he allowed a moment of clarity to settle in. He reminded himself of the priorities at hand – survival and escaping the city.

Harley's gaze swept across the store shelves. Amidst the chaos and ruin, his attention was drawn to an abundance of supplies lining the shelves. Canned goods and bottles of water were neatly stocked, offering a glimmer of hope in the midst of the turmoil. The sight of these essential items hinted at potential sustenance and hydration, which could be crucial for both survival and the journey ahead.

The various canned goods ranged from vegetables to fruits and meat, providing a diverse assortment of options. Alongside them were bottles of water, the glistening liquid inside their transparent containers appearing even more inviting in the dismal circumstances. It was a small beacon of possibility amidst the overwhelming chaos, and Harley couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of hope as he acknowledged the valuable resources within his reach.

Harley's gaze drifted towards a nearby construction section, where he noticed several useful tools that could prove invaluable against the zombies. Hammers, saws, and wrenches were neatly displayed on the shelves, their metal surfaces glimmering under the store's harsh lighting. It was a small arsenal, but the potential for crafting makeshift weapons or barricades could make a significant difference in the impending confrontations with the undead.

Harley's knowledge kicked in, recalling that blunt weapons had their share of limitations when dealing with zombies. While they could inflict damage and disrupt the undead, they were often less efficient against the resilient creatures. Zombies, known for their unyielding nature, required more potent methods to ensure permanent incapacitation. This realization intensified the urgency for him to find or create more effective means of defending himself.

Memories surfaced in Harley's mind, reminding him that blunt instruments, for all their force, weren't always the most effective tools against zombies. Zombies were notorious for their relentless persistence, and direct physical impact might only temporarily subdue them without delivering lasting incapacitation. Harley knew that in this unforgiving scenario, adaptability and resourcefulness would be key to ensure his survival against such determined foes.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Harley quickly shifted into action, gathering supplies from the neighboring shelves and glass displays. He scooped up an array of canned goods, carefully placing them into the bags he found on a nearby display. The urgency of the situation kept him focused, his mind calculating the essential items he needed to ensure his survival in the desolate city.

Harley's attire consisted of the remnants of his office suit, rumpled and stained after the unexpected events of the day. As he moved around the store, the fabric clung to his form, a testament to the recent chaos that had unfolded. Despite the disheveled state of his appearance, Harley remained steadfast in his determination to navigate the predicament he found himself in. His focus was unwavering, undeterred by the sartorial disarray he found himself in.

Harley's attire consisted of the remnants of his office suit, rumpled and stained after the unexpected events of the day. As he moved around the store, the fabric clung to his form, a testament to the recent chaos that had unfolded. Despite the disheveled state of his appearance, Harley remained steadfast in his determination to navigate the predicament he found himself in. His focus was unwavering, undeterred by the sartorial disarray he found himself in.

The fire axe represented a potent symbol of security and preparedness. Its presence on the wall suggested that the store had taken certain precautions to protect its inventory and occupants in the event of emergencies. Harley's keen eye noted the sturdy handle and the sharp blade of the axe, aware that it could serve as an effective weapon against both the undead hordes and any structural challenges during his escape.

Harley cautiously ventured into the store owner's room, his steps soft and wary. Within the room, he discovered a self-defense gun tucked away in a cabinet, accompanied by a few bullets. He approached the cabinet, his eyes scanning the weapon and the ammunition with a mix of relief and trepidation. The presence of the firearm signified that the store owner had taken measures to protect themselves and their establishment, and now these resources might save Harley's life.

Harley's lack of experience with firearms became apparent as he handled the gun. His tentative grip and unsure mannerisms suggested a novice's approach to wielding the firearm. The weight and mechanics of the weapon felt alien to him, and the thought of using it against the undead filled him with a mix of apprehension and uncertainty. Harley's limited knowledge of handling and operating firearms was a hindrance in this critical situation.

As Harley ventured further into the store owner's room, a potent and disconcerting aroma assaulted his senses. The thick, metallic tang of blood pervaded the air, causing him to wrinkle his nose in involuntary repulsion. The source of the bloodstains loomed ominously, adding an even more unsettling atmosphere to the already eerie surroundings. Harley's stomach churned at the unmistakable scent of death that hung heavily throughout the room.

Out of seemingly nowhere, the store owner's reanimated form lunged at Harley, teeth bared in a ravenous attempt to sink its jaws into its prey. The abrupt attack caught Harley off guard, but his quick reflexes kicked in. He expertly blocked the bite with the blade of the axe, the metal connecting with a resounding metallic clang. The force of the impact sent him stumbling backward onto the ground, the zombie's weight pinning him down as the struggle ensued.

end of third chapter-