Untouched by the Outbreak

Satisfied with their silent acknowledgment, Ryo walked over to his scooter. He filled up the tank with fuel, the soft gurgling sound of the liquid a contrast to the quiet outside.

Inside, Sachiko watched from the window, her eyes following his every movement. Though she knew no zombie would dare harm him, a quiet worry gnawed at her. She wanted him to be safe, to return to her.

Her gaze drifted to the stocked pantry, the shelves lined with food, and she felt a sense of security. Ryo had thought of everything—water, food, and protection. Two full water tanks outside, as he had explained, would last them nearly a month if used carefully. There was no need for her to worry about survival here.

Yet, as she watched him prepare to leave, the nagging feeling of concern for his safety lingered in her heart.

Ryo secured the remaining fuel from the gallon onto the back of his scooter, his mind already planning the next step. Finding a truck was essential, one large enough to transport a significant amount of supplies—food, water, and other essentials—and perhaps even fit one or two Strider zombies in the back. Having them as his personal bodyguards would make any journey infinitely safer.

Striders were faster and stronger than regular zombies, their agility unmatched, making them an ideal shield against unknown threats.

As he adjusted the fuel container, Ryo\'s thoughts wandered back to the odd change he had noticed in the zombies. The ones he commanded to follow him back to his base before had been in a decayed, rotten state. Now, without explanation, they were healing. Their wounds had closed, their skin no longer emitted the foul stench of decay, and they moved with a newfound strength and speed.

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It was as if being around him had sparked some kind of regeneration in them.

Ryo didn\'t fully understand why the zombies around him were healing. But what mattered most to him wasn\'t the "why," but the practical advantages it gave him. He had no need for answers if the result was stronger, faster zombies under his control. The real question on his mind was how these newly healed zombies would fare against humans. Would their improved condition make them better protectors?

He needed that edge if he were to face any threats from humans—especially those who sought to capture or kill him.

His mind raced with possibilities as he started the scooter, the engine humming softly beneath him. One thing was certain: whatever was happening to the zombies around him was to his benefit.

Maybe this was the reason the Brutes, Striders, and Creeper zombies were always drawn to him. Ryo had started to notice subtle differences between the zombies that roamed near his base and those wandering aimlessly in the city. The ones near him—especially the Striders and Brutes—seemed faster, stronger, and more resilient.

They moved with a certain stability, their actions more controlled and less erratic than the wild zombies outside his influence.

The Striders, in particular, caught his attention. Their movements had become sharper, more calculated. Their strength was evident in the way they scaled walls or leaped from place to place with ease. The Brutes, towering and muscular, no longer lumbered clumsily.

Instead, they seemed to possess a refined power, their steps heavy but deliberate, as though they were learning to harness their strength more effectively.

It was as if being around him wasn\'t just healing their bodies but enhancing them in ways he didn\'t fully comprehend yet. They weren\'t just mindless drones anymore; they were evolving.

Ryo couldn\'t help but smirk. This was an advantage no one else had—a personal army of enhanced zombies, stronger and more reliable than the average undead. And the more time they spent near him, the more stable and capable they became. It wasn\'t just survival anymore; it was dominance. And Ryo intended to use that to his fullest advantage.

Ryo climbed onto his scooter, started the engine, and backed up slightly before moving slowly away from his base. As he navigated the streets, he noticed something unsettling yet advantageous—the number of zombies around his base and throughout the town had increased dramatically. They roamed in larger numbers, seemingly more organized than before, their presence almost overwhelming.

Ryo narrowed his eyes, observing the growing hordes. The streets that were once somewhat manageable were now filled with moving figures, but none dared approach him. It was as though the zombies were gravitating toward his base, forming a massive, self-sustaining force.

He smirked again, realizing the potential this held. With this many zombies under his command, no human would dare to challenge him. His personal army was swelling in numbers, and with the Brutes, Striders, and Creepers evolving, Ryo\'s control over the town—and maybe even beyond—was steadily growing.

He drove on, the undead parting as he passed, his mind already thinking of the truck he planned to find and how it could further amplify his dominance. The more zombies around him, the more power he wielded, and the more untouchable he became.

As Ryo rode through the town, an idea began to take shape in his mind. The growing number of zombies and his ability to control them gave him a unique opportunity. This town could be more than just a temporary base—it could become his personal fortress.

He glanced at the blocked roads, cluttered with debris, abandoned cars, and the occasional wandering zombie. "I\'ll have to clean this up," he thought. "If I\'m going to make this town mine, I need clear roads and secured perimeters." He imagined a place where he could move freely without hindrance, where even the zombies he commanded would patrol the streets like loyal guards.

His thoughts drifted to the idea of setting up a central storage location. While his current base had a decent supply of food and resources, it wouldn\'t last forever, and space was limited. "If I clear out one of the houses nearby, I can turn it into a warehouse. A place where I can stockpile all the food and supplies I scavenge."

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. A dedicated storage area would allow him to maintain better organization and security. "With the zombies guarding the town, I won\'t have to worry about anyone trying to raid it," he mused.

This town was his, or at least it would be soon. And with the resources he would gather and the zombies under his control, he could establish something that resembled order in this chaotic world—a place where no one could touch him."One step at a time," he thought, smirking to himself as he continued down the road. "But first, I need that truck."

As Ryo left the small town behind, his thoughts turned cold and calculating. The streets he passed were filled with zombies, but none of them posed a threat to him. His mind was already focused on the next town, where he would begin his search for a truck and any other supplies he could scavenge.

He didn\'t bother searching the areas close to his current base. There was no need. Everything he needed nearby was already well within reach, and he could walk back and forth to his home without using the scooter. The real work would begin in the next town, where he hoped to find the right vehicle to carry his supplies and strengthen his control over the area.

As his scooter roared down the road, Ryo\'s thoughts drifted to the possibility of encountering survivors. It wasn\'t something he actively sought, but he knew it was a possibility. "If I find a girl," he mused, "maybe I\'ll save her. Maybe..." His eyes narrowed as his mind wandered through darker possibilities. "But if she fights, or tries to take advantage of me... then she\'ll just be zombie food."

His grip tightened on the handlebars, the cold breeze whipping past him as he sped towards his goal. In this world, trust was a luxury he couldn\'t afford. He had no time for weakness or those who would stand in his way. The zombies, at least, were predictable. They followed his commands. Humans?

They were far more dangerous.

Ryo smirked to himself. "Better to be feared than to be taken for a fool," he thought, the road stretching out before him as he neared the outskirts of the next town, ready for whatever it might hold.

Ryo\'s smirk widened as the thought crossed his mind. "Men are nothing but trouble," he muttered to himself, his voice low against the hum of the scooter. Male survivors brought conflict, competition, and unnecessary risk. They proved no worth to him in this new world. He had seen it time and again—men trying to fight for resources, to assert dominance. They were liabilities, not allies.

But women? That was different. Women like Sachiko had their uses. They could be molded, controlled, made to serve his needs. "Entertainment," he mused, his smirk deepening. "Or perhaps something more."

The idea of having more than just entertainment sparked a darker ambition in him. "Maybe one day... a mother for my child," he thought, the concept of legacy suddenly stirring in his mind. The world was broken, filled with chaos and death, but if he could rebuild a part of it, shape it in his image... who better to help him do that than women like Sachiko?

He gripped the handlebars tighter, his smirk never fading. The future was uncertain, but Ryo was confident. "I\'ll take what I want. Make this world mine." And in that future, any woman he spared would know her place—just like Sachiko did.