Safe Guard in the Heart
The frame he held in his hands was both very familiar, and extraordinarily heavy at the same time.
His gaze remained transfixed on the faces smiling back at him. His black ear flickered. He could almost hear her tell him to be strong. To keep fighting. She was proud of him. And likely, with him in spirit. To make her proud. She was his biggest fan. With only a small sniffle to hold in most of his strong and powerful emotions, he turned the frame around and opened the back up. Carefully, he removed the photo from its housing. And set them down separately beside him on the bed. He did the same with another. Once he had the photos from their casing, he took up the scissors he had beside him. And proceeded to cut the photos. He didn't need them in their entirety.
Just enough to carry with him at all times.
After looking at them a final time, he rose to his feet. Time he got going. It was quieter out there, now. Not safe, but a bit safer. He wouldn't be caught up in a whirlwind of chaos, that is. With a renewed determination, he went about collecting what he could from their unit. He could not stay there much longer. First, he grabbed his large military style backpack. He just liked the style they used. And without delay, he went throughout his unit. Collecting the necessary supplies. From first aid, to medicine. From non-perishable items, to plenty of clothing.
He found his many tank tops. Alphas didn't need to wear tops. They overheated easily. But he found he didn't mind. Helped soak up the sweat during intense practices. Gross to a degree, but it was what it was. Besides, he had hoped the scent and sweat drenched tops would be nice nesting materials for his future mate. If they were omega, of course. Heavily laced with his scent, it would be so perfect for them.
All a distant dream, now.
He then packed all of his wrapping tape, and gauze.
Not the same gauze used to stop wounds.
After ensuring he stuffed it all and packed in as tight as he could, he looked around for a potential weapon. While he wouldn't mind using his fists much, he knew that was asking for trouble before long. A little distance between himself and the zombies, would be nice. And despite searching the entire unit, he found no weapon. Nor any fingerless gloves. He had a stylistic aesthetic he was looking for in this new world. Anything to appear in control and powerful. That he wasn't to be messed with. Could fight like hell, and survive.
And maybe he had a hard time letting his fists not be his main weapon.
With a sigh, San turned and left his family's unit for the last time. Picked clean and dry. Nothing else worth salvaging. He had what he needed. The two photos tucked safely in one of his many trouser pockets. He still liked his cargo trousers and military style boots. Without a backwards glance, San left. Ready to head to all the other units in his complex. He knew there would be zombies between him and his ultimate leaving. He could handle them. He wasn't afraid. He was ready for his combat.
Let the zombies come.
//
With a growl and grunt, he socked his attacker to the point of them falling backwards to the ground.
His knuckles and bandaging already coated in a layer of blood, and flecks of flesh. He watched, stance indicating he was ready for a fight. He watched as the zombie groaned and growled, before trying to get back to its feet. Taping in to all his former practice and training, San spun around. As he did, he raised one of his boot heavy feet. And used it to give a powerful powerhouse kick to the zombie. It went hurtling far enough away from him, to give himself a chance to figure out how to end this already.
He turned and bolted, aiming for a different unit he had not yet opened. This zombie had greeted him upon him opening the last unit. Thankfully, the second unit was empty. And while the zombie gave chase, San searched frantically for any weapon to dispatch it. He would scavenge later. Upon entering a spare room, he let his eyes quickly scan. Upon scrambling for his weapon, he found his temporary weapon. He'd find something different, later. He turned with the hammer, and let some of his alpha aggression finally unleash. With his answering growl, San began to beat the hammer into the zombie's skull.
And into its rotting brains.
With a ghastly sigh, the zombie finally caved to his fight. As San heaved, he let the hammer slip and fall from his bloody grip. Landing with a heavy thud. He sighed softly, feeling bad. But he knew it had to be done. He couldn't be a hardened alpha in this if he felt like this every time he took one out. He supposed some deep training in this regard would suffice. Well, he'd get plenty of it the first few days he made his way from the city. After he took the time to catch his breath, San left the corpse. And made to head back for the unit the zombie had originally came from. Even as he heard others banging at their own doors.
They'd heard their scuffle.
He'd get to them soon.
Upon entering the unit the zombie emerged from, San looked about. Time to stock up. Gather what he could, and then make his leave. And find a fucking weapon. Much as he loved using his kickboxing, it wouldn't be enough. Case in point moments ago. After gathering all the food and medical supplies he could, San turned to leave. Just as he made to leave, he noticed the umbrella siting perched near the door. He took hold of it, and pulled it close. He doubted it, but he could only take a look. He tried to pull hard on the stick, but nothing.
No hidden blades.
Oh, well.
Still, he opened the umbrella. At least it was metal. It would suffice for now. Sometime down the line, he'd find something better. But the umbrella stick itself would do. Without hesitation, San broke the fabric of the actual umbrella itself off. With the umbrella stick as his new weapon, San left to raid the unit he'd killed the zombie in.
A thought came to his mind as he did. With a smirk, San picked the hammer back up. And with some finagling, he tied it to the end of the umbrella as secure as he could. Again, it would do for now. Until he found a better weapon. As long as it could hold out until then, he didn't care. And with it now in grasp, he turned and went through the rest of the apartments. Killing the remaining zombies as he did so.
At least he had a very decent haul to take with him.
//
With a last ditch effort, San made his way into the janitorial closet of the complex.
While the units themselves were for the occupants to maintain. The rest of the structure fell to the leasing office, and/or landlord. As he looked around, he nearly huffed. Nothing. Until he noticed the pipping bolted to the wall. He smirked, a much better weapon. Again, for now. He likely would find something better later on. But for now, that would certainly do. Without hesitation, he grabbed a hold of the longest one he could safely wrap his fist around. And yanked back. Hard. With some struggle, he managed to free it.
Success!
With a smile of delight, San turned to leave the building entirely. After only raiding the office for any other supplies he could get, he turned to leave the building at last. It was time he faced the new dead world. Upon carefully stepping outside, San looked up and down the walkway and street. There weren't any zombies within direct eyesight. Worked for him. With his pack filled well, he slung the metal pipe across both of his broad shoulders. As he draped his wrists over it ignoring the blood covering his knuckles and bandaging, he scrunched his face. Bad enough the rotting smell of zombies was nasty. But burning flesh wasn't the most fragrant perfume, either.
Without much further thought, San turned to let the winds guide him. He'd go where his feet took him. No destination in mind. Just to keep moving forward. He remained vigilant in his attempt to leave the ruined city around him. To escape and live more wild. As he passed many other buildings, he pondered if he should check them. Not for supplies. He could get those along his route. But for potential survivors. Would it be worth it, though?
In this new world, trust was a currency one had to truly earn and keep. So very quickly, he knew he shouldn't trust any random wolf he met. He would keep them at a fair distance. To learn them. And make them earn his trust. He knew how to fight should they prove untrustworthy. But it was better to not take the risk right away. And besides, he didn't want to be seen as some kind of hero or savior. He knew he was hardly that, anymore. And really, he didn't want some other wolf whining his ear off about their legs and feet hurting.
Or about being hungry.
And besides, he didn't want to have to worry if they had enough to feed multiple mouths. Right now, it was every wolf for themselves. Any straggling survivors he came across, well. He'd come to that fork in the road once he reached it. For the time being, he was better off being a lone wolf. For now. Would he gain himself a pack? Maybe. All depended on nature, he supposed. Whatever she had in store for him, he would trust it. She kept him alive for some reason, hadn't she? So he supposed the only currency of trust he'd give away freely, was to nature.
After only looking back at his former home one last time, San gave a final farewell to his family he'd lost. With that, he turned around. And made for the city limits. And the future and wild beyond. For now, he went alone. For now, he didn't trust anyone. Like a cowboy riding off into the sunset in western movies, San made for the horizon.
And all that lay beyond it.