Chapter Text
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Walking down the street with a heavy as fuck backpack and equally weighted messenger bag filled with your only remaining supplies for life tied to you wasn't what you had planned for what was supposed to be the first week of school after summer, but alas, it was your only option left. You'd run too low on supplies to keep hiding in your old apartment, and were now lurking the back alley to find somewhere to spend the night. Finally you spotted the employee only entrance to a 7/11 back room, picking the lock for several minutes before being able to get inside.
From there, you quietly scavenged the store itself before boarding yourself into the back room to set up camp. Rolling out your sleeping bag, shedding your coat, and using a metal tray from the bakery counter to start your fire on with your matches and some cooking oil.
You'd dragged all the water bottles and canned food you could from the storage room, which was shockingly untouched, alongside the freezer room, compared to the main store. I guess most people don't know about the storage room, then? Turns out your minimum wage part timer was helpful after all.
Now you lay out your cooking supplies from a portable cookware your father kept for camping trips, placing the gridiron over your small fire, placing down your only pot and filling it with some of the instant rice and canned miso from the store you were inhabiting. Then cracking open some canned fish to mix into it. This would heat it up pretty well, albeit a bit slower than he'd prefer. Not like there was much of a choice.
While the food cooked, you dumped out the food supply you currently had your bag and reorganized it to stuff in as much of the newer supplies in as possible; canned foods like soup, chili, fish, beans, veggies, pickled veg, even some fruit. Then your logbook out of your passenger bag, taking note of everything you were able to pack, as well as what you were cooking for the evening. Luckily these rations could go untouched for emergency evacuation.
You had a whole system in this notebook, you see. Every time you stopped somewhere new or went on a supply run, you'd note everything down in an even list so you could tick off what you'd eaten over time. This helped you make calculations about how long you could last before the next supply run as well as keep track of the date. It was currently late November, right up near the first cold season since the start of the apocalypse. That wasn't going to be fun...
The list went on as you scribbled in your log book, only interrupted when you heard the main entrance's bell chime. Given the lack of squelching sounds, you could assume it was a living person and not a zombie. You quickly suffocated your fire with a rag so they couldn't spot you from the cracks between the door and wall, but it was too late. They'd come over to the break room door and we're trying to peer in through the small window, which you'd been smart enough to spray paint over earlier.
Your attempt at silence was interrupted by a knock on the door followed by a shy “You uh... Have any food to spare..?”
“...huh?” It was a bit baffling how polite and awkward. Most people would've either backed off or shot up the door by now. You were skeptical about whether it was genuine or someone trying to trick you. “Uh.. w-well—” you found yourself stuttering, having not actually communicated with another person in several months. You hadn't seen another person in this side of town, let alone verbally spoken to one. See, this was the more dangerous side of the city and had the highest zombie population, although you'd figured out enough tricks to survive largely unscathed.
“Who are you?” You managed to get the phrase out decently clearly, if not a bit blunter and harsher than you used to speak. “Why should I help you?”
You waited for a minute before the person audibly sighed, taking a few steps back from the door. It should've been relieving, that it seemed like the intruder was about to leave, but it sent your mind into a bit of a panic instead. It was awful and horrific and this is how people die in this world, but you couldn't help but crave more of what little socializing had taken place. “W-wait! Eh.. gimme a minute.” you'd called out half against your will and decided that there wasn't much to loose... Except everything you had with you and your life. Loneliness makes people take too many risks for comfort.
You looked around, quietly shoving both of your bags, and any loose belonging under what used to be a security desk for safe keeping. Only then did you notice that the mystery guy seemed oblivious of the huge window that let you look into the store from your post. Was it one of those weird mirrors? Wearily you stepped closer, leaning to take a look at the fellow. It was an only slightly taller boy, around your age, with blue hair. Blue? Seriously? It didn't seem like he had any weapons besides the bat that was leaning against the doorframe, out of his hands. At least he wasn't actively bearing his weapon... And said weapon was pretty pathetic, gown you had a pistol.
You relit the fire in the cooking tray. Luckily this store had enough materials that you could probably spare a few meals to the blue haired stranger. A horrific screech let out when you pushed away the filing cabinet you'd barocated the door with, only after moving the pistol from your passenger bag to tucked in your belt. You quickly backed away from the door, standing in front of your supplies that were tucked under the desk for safe keeping. “Okay!” you called out not too loud. You didn't want to alarm anything else too near here.
The door slowly opened itself, as the other was careful to not let it creek. He looked over to you, his expression a bit guilty looking. Usually that would be a bad sign, but he looked more like a kicked puppy than a manipulative bastard. “Hey...” he greeted you awkwardly, closing the door behind him after grabbing his baseball bat, which seemed to be his only possession at the moment. He quickly dropped said item when you saw how you looked at it, a haze sharpened with distrust and isolation induced anxiety. “Hey.” you responded a bit bluntly, watching as he propped a chair back up against the door handle for safety before he sat down a good 4~5 feet away from your fire and directly across the room from you. You finally sat back down after a few minutes.
“That all you got?” you asked hesitantly when you inevitably had to move back up to the fire to stir the rice, miso soup, and canned mackerel mixture. It didn't smell half bad, and the rice had cooked through well, absorbing all of the soup you'd cooked it with. “Yep.” the other sighed, eyes fixed on the hand stirring the small pot. “Got robbed the other night.” that caught your attention. “People still dumb enough to sleep during nighttime? In this region?” your tone rang bitter despite how counterintuitive sleeping during the day might seem from a surface level. He just let out a very forced laugh, which quickly cut off when he looked back up to see your scrutinizing stare. “Is there really any other option?”
“Well,” you muttered, brows furrowing as you looked back down at the pot to scoop out half the contents into the bowl you usually left out to feed stray cats you'd see sometimes, but was clean enough for a random guys meal if you cared so much as to give him anything decently sanitary. “firstly, daylight is dangerous because it makes you vulnerable to other, more malicious, survivors that think daylight is safer from zombies than night time.” You added some pickled plums to the bowl. “Secondly, zombies are effectively blind in the dark, because their eyes are decayed to the point of only seeing vague shapes. It's easy to blend into broader shapes like buildings when it's dark out.” you slid the bowl and a pair of chopsticks over to the guy. “That makes enough sense to ya'?” you began to fill your own bowl with the rest of the rice and some more pickled plums.
“Yeah! Er- woah...” the blue haired fellow seemed shocked by what you'd passed over to him, even smiling a bit as he bowed his head to thank you, and muttered a subtle prayer before eating. At least he still had decent manners, you thought as you began to eat your own portion. You looked back at him from time to time, a little weirded out by how he marveled at the meal. Maybe he hadn't eaten in a long time? Yeah... That was probably it.
“You're pretty generous for someone that looks like you wanna rip my guts out.” the other spoke back up, staring down at a plum. Those were considered pretty rare now days, huh? Most would hoard those, but you had access to a rather large gathering of jars of it, which was at your paternal grandfather's house near the coast. Man had been a hoarder of all things pickled, with a whole basement dedicated to it, and you'd have stayed there longer if it wasn't dangerous to camp out in the same place for too long.
“Some people will take things like that as an invitation. Shut up.” You muttered, referring to his comment about your glaring. Your tone seemed to make him more nervous, considering he followed your directions exactly and seemed to barely breath, just gratefully eating the rest of his rice and plums without looking back at you.
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