Strong On My Own
His tail of blood ruby red and tip of black swayed in pure focus, red eyes taking in his surroundings.
His grip on the black cast iron skillet he'd found growing tighter. It was a hell of a weapon, especially with his unbridled strength to really do a number. It was already showing signs of use, with blood and bits of flesh clinging and dangling from it. His ear moved slowly, listening for any potential zombie headed for him. His gaze shifted about the darkened apartment unit, looking for movement indicating another survivor. Or a zombie. He no longer trusted his nose. For the awful stench of the rotting corpses of zombies had filled his nose, and burned the hairs inside. Making smelling anything else near next to impossible. At least, for now.
In time, he may smell something nice for a change.
Maybe.
He just had to hope.
He'd lost track of the number of units he's raided thus far. But he knew he was halfway done going through the apartment complex building he'd been living in. He was inching his way steadily, to leaving. He wasn't quite sure where he'd go, or who he'd meet. Wasn't sure he'd easily join random wolves. Pick up random wolves. He supposed that he'd let nature decide how things played out. But for now, Jongho had to get through clearing out the complex. When no zombie emerged nor movement was spotted, Jongho relaxed.
Only a little.
He still remained slow and cautious, as he made his way to investigate each and every room. Raiding the bathrooms for medical supplies he knew would be most useful. And then finally raiding the entire unit for all food he could take with him, that wasn't going bad or already had gone bad. He was also on the hunt for a potential weapon upgrade. But, he wasn't itching for one at the moment. The cast iron skillet was doing just fine for the time being. And was doing a hell of a job putting zombies out for good. And the sound of it hitting weakening skull bone and into mushed brains, was a bit satisfying. Made him wonder why the protagonists in those zombie movies and shows kept picking guns.
True, guns did have a purpose. Killing from a safe enough distance. But they were more weak than powerful. Maybe in the future, he would use guns when he was with a more organized group. If he found a group he could get behind. And trusted. And did not lose their senses of morality. Treated others with fairness and kindness. But not backstab easily, or accept any backstabbing. But trust wasn't an easy thing in this new world. So how was Jongho supposed to trust blindly?
He would just have to take one day at a time, he supposed.
//
This was the last unit in the entire complex, and then he'd be raiding the office.
And ultimately, leaving. He wasn't entirely too sure where he would head to. What area he trusted to make it to alive and on his own. He knew it was best to avoid cities upon his leaving the current one he was in. They would not be safe for a while. He would have to trust his inner wolf voice to protect him from both zombies, and the living. To listen to it and tell him whether the wolf he met was trustworthy enough, or not.
As he stuffed his nearly filled to the point the seams were bursting with more food he'd found, Jongho's thoughts swirled to the government. The military, as well. And even, the rest of the world. How were they handling it? How long would it take for the government to respond? Surely by now, they had crumbled and fallen. How long until they got organized? Finally got the military organized? Would they help the groups of survivors, or eliminate them all?
Who needed the absolute poor and soul crushed, when you could keep the wealthy safe and alive?
The thought had Jongho growling a little. Thankfully, there were no more zombies in the building. So he did not have to worry about one stumbling his way. But the thought absolutely got him furious. The fuck was wrong with the government? Was money really so much more important than the lives of all those under your authority and protection?
The more he thought of it, the more he grew to hate them.
He would only ever willingly follow the lead of a true leader. One that cared for his or her wolves, and not money. Power and money could corrupt and destroy wolves. Hence why the zombie outbreak had been allowed to actually happen. And even spread. The trouble with caring more for power and money, was when it was one's time to die. Well then, they died usually alone. Uncared about. Their power and money sent off to the next in line. Only mourned a fraction of a moment. And when the last super wealthy and powerful wolf was dead, then what?
The wolves of average were far better at taking care of themselves, than the governments tended to learn.
He huffed.
He could almost visualize it now. Military vehicles delivering important surviving government officials, and the super wealthy to safety bunkers. Plans for almost impenetrable cities for the rich and powerful. A soft smirk then graced his face. It would be such sweet poetic justice that a single weakness in their defenses could bring them to their knees.
He wanted to survive this long enough, to see the world's governments and rich on their knees. Begging for help. Would he and his give it? He had strong reason never to give them aid. But would it be his call to make? He knew that such things were likely to be further in the future than he could truly identify. He had to make it from the city he was in, and for the wilds. He wasn't even sure he'd make it to sunset tonight, and find safety. He wasn't sure how the zombies were at night. Was it too early for them to be more dangerous at night? Or were they still bumbling around as they were in the daylight?
He sure as hell wasn't about to find out.
With the last of the supplies he could find in his complex, he knew it was time he left the city.
Time, he became a lone wolf.
//
He remained quiet as he slipped through the alleyways.
He would pause at the end of a building, and peer around the corner. Looking for zombies. Checking the coast was clear long enough, to make it into the shadows once again. He only ran to get from one shadow, to the next. But not enough to draw them to the sound of his shoe soles on the hard ground beneath him. His fist on the iron skillet still taught. Ready to use in an emergency. But he really hoped to be out of the city before he'd use it again. He was alone, and severely outnumbered.
He would die by the time the sun was fully set.
He felt a determination and fire in his chest. The need to press on, survive. Nature had gotten him safely home on day zero. So she clearly had a future for him. He did not know what it was, but he wanted to reach her end goal for him when it was time. And he had a feeling, it was not this day. Nor this night.
As he got closer to the city limit, the buildings seemed to grow slightly further apart. But at the same time, the number of zombies dwindled. They were clearly staying in the inner parts, ready for food. How many survivors were in the other buildings, and waiting for the zombies to move on so they could make their own escape? Jongho wasn't sure, but he wasn't about to turn back and try to help. All he could do, was wish them luck. After all, he wasn't sure when the zombies would vacate the cities to migrate.
And here was yet another thought.
If this was global, then that meant borders would soon be a thing of the past. So this meant, North Korean zombies would find their way migrating south to South Korea. And vice versa. Even trudging so far as Spain and Portugal. The zombie issues would not stay isolated. And they certainly would make massive hordes when they eventually got together.
He shook himself, ridding his thoughts of things he could not and would not control.
He knew they'd migrate. He knew variants would arise. The virus evolving, making them much more dangerous and unpredictable. The only thing he needed to worry about, was when. It all boiled down to when. Not how, not if, but when.
Once in the last alleyway before he was at the city limit, Jongho stopped. He looked back in the direction he'd come from. Not to see if any zombies were in pursuit. There were none. But as a final goodbye to the life he'd once known. The soccer with his many friends. Many now likely dead. Gone in bellies of zombies, or turned into one themselves. A goodbye to his family. As much as he struggled to relay his feelings much, he had love them dearly. From his younger brother, to his father.
He then turned to face the vast openness of South Korea. To an uncertain and unstable future. A future on the run. A future of killing to survive. Of learning trust and respect. Of finding a pack worthy enough to join. And of trying not to lose who he was as a wolf in the process of it all. With a deep inhale, Jongho turned and sprinted for the city limit. He doubted what zombies lingering this area noticed him, or would give chase. He was currently not worth it. But he had to find himself a place to bunker for the night. Even with the sun beginning its decent on the horizon.
He sprinted, into a future that yet lay before him.
One he had to take one step at a time.
Currently alone.
But eventually, with others.