C3 Preparation!!

Upon opening the G drive, Willett was greeted with an extensive collection of adult films, ranging from the latest 3D releases to rare vintage classics. He wiped away a bead of sweat, questioning whether he had actually downloaded such an extensive library—it had to be a trick of the mind. Continuing his search, he finally located the two movie collections he was after. One was a series of horror films he'd watched to pass the time, filled with zombie lore that, while not necessarily applicable to the real-life undead outside, was better than nothing. The other was a favorite documentary series of his, "Survival in the Wilderness," which detailed how to survive alone in various terrains and how to construct simple shelters and traps. While it might not be immediately useful, Willett knew that the day would come when the ample food supply at home would run out, and he'd be forced to venture out, possibly even leaving the city with its dense population and overwhelming number of zombies. In unfamiliar territory, the knowledge from these documentaries could very well save his life at a critical moment.

The "Survival in the Wilderness" series advised that in a dangerous and dire situation, one should not act hastily but rather take time to assess the surroundings and inventory available resources.

"Right, supplies!"

After some thought, Willett began to search his home, meticulously organizing all the supplies he could find. Food was not an immediate concern; he still had two boxes of instant noodles purchased when his parents went on vacation, bought in bulk for those days he couldn't be bothered to go out. Additionally, there were two unopened bags of rice and several boxes of biscuits and snacks, so there was no immediate worry about sustenance. However, drinking water was a different story. The water cooler held only two jugs, and the fridge contained a few beverages. He was wary of tap water, uncertain if it could be contaminated with the virus that had wreaked havoc. He wouldn't risk using it unless absolutely necessary. A person could survive a long time without food, but not more than three days without water. Therefore, Willett resolved to conserve water and prepare for the possibility of having to make a sudden escape. After all, one can never be sure what the next moment might bring.

After organizing all the supplies, Willett leaned back on the bed to rest. He picked up his phone, glanced at the no-signal alert, and thought, "Still no signal. I wonder how Luvern and Uncle are doing. I hope they're okay. Since Luvern and I were fine when the outbreak occurred, it's probably not airborne—at least not for now. I wonder how many people have survived. 2012 really is the end of the world. I just hope there's a day we can make it through. Sigh, no use dwelling on it now. Time to get some sleep."

Checking his watch, he saw it was just after seven in the evening. The day's events had been terrifying and nauseating, and he had managed to sort through all the supplies—a significant exertion for someone out of practice with physical activity like Willett. With nothing left to do and an aversion to turning on the lights for fear of attracting attention—even though zombies supposedly can't see—he decided it was best to err on the side of caution. After all, his earlier shouting had quickly drawn two zombies to the building. With a gentle push, he closed the bedroom door, lay down, and drifted off to sleep.

"No!"

Startled awake by his own shout, Willett sat up quickly. As he observed the faint morning light, he reassured himself with a pat on the chest, "Thank goodness, it was only a dream."

The nightmare from the previous night had been vivid and terrifying. In it, his phone had started ringing uncontrollably, drawing a horde of zombies that broke down his door and tore him to shreds. Thankfully, it was just a bad dream.

Glancing at the time, he realized it was already 6:30 am. He hadn't slept that deeply in ages, his body and mind utterly exhausted.

Stepping back onto the balcony, he noticed the fires had dwindled and the sound of gunfire had all but disappeared. Were it not for the occasional chilling scream, one might find it hard to believe the world was in the throes of an apocalypse. But as the screams grew fewer, the ancient city settled into an eerie silence, resembling a city of the dead.

"Yeah, this has become a city of the dead. To survive, I need to keep pushing forward."

Willett muttered to himself in silence before descending the stairs to the living room to begin his daily workout routine.

He was acutely aware that his supplies of food and water would eventually run out, and the day would come when he'd have to confront the grotesque creatures lurking outside. By then, his body would be his greatest asset. Only by becoming faster, stronger, and more agile could he increase his chances of survival. Thus, Willett, who had previously been reluctant to exercise, now embarked on a rigorous training regimen for the sake of staying alive.

Every day, he ran back and forth on the balcony for three hours and did half an hour of deep squats to enhance his speed and jumping power. He spent the remaining time learning survival skills and getting to grips with his dagger. The dagger was somewhat short, with a full length of just 20 centimeters, and he was not keen on close combat with zombies. Luckily, the balcony still held some leftover construction materials. After much deliberation, he selected a steel pipe over a meter long that had a fitting at one end where he could securely insert the dagger. He then wedged it in place with some sturdy wood and wrapped several loops of wire around it to fix it firmly in place. Thus, he fashioned a sharp short spear. His daily routine involved sharpening the spear and practicing thrusts and retracts. Knowing he was no martial arts master and that zombies wouldn't be felled by a single stab to the heart, he practiced aiming at a specific point and thrusting repeatedly until he got it right.

His dedication bore fruit. After a month of intense training, Willett's physical condition had significantly improved. His once slightly protruding belly was gone, and the muscles in his arms and legs had become taut and powerful. Standing at 1.8 meters tall, he had always been strong, but now his strength was formidable. He could drive the short spear through solid wood planks three to four centimeters thick, a testament to his newfound power. This should be sufficient to handle a zombie.

Back in his bedroom, Willett lay on his bed, soaked in sweat. It had been over half a month since his last bath. Previously, he could heat water with a water heater for bathing, but since the tap water had been cut off two weeks prior, he had resorted to boiling purified water on a gas stove for cooking noodles. Bathing was out of the question; drinking water was scarce and not to be squandered. Despite his conservation efforts, he was inevitably faced with a dire situation: he had run out of water.

Willett chuckled ruefully as he gazed at the empty water cooler and the last two boxes of milk. The inevitable had finally arrived.

He was aware that Tucker, his neighbor, had a supply of water. They had stocked up on several buckets just before the disaster struck, and he estimated that a good portion remained untouched. However, his recent observations had raised concerns about the safety of Tucker's home. It appeared that Tucker and his daughter had succumbed to zombification, yet they still roamed the building. Willett wasn't sure how many zombies were present, but since Tucker's household consisted of just the two of them, there couldn't be many. Additionally, his own rooftop was a stone's throw away from Tucker's balcony, making it accessible by simply using a ladder. In a pinch, he could always climb back and retrieve the ladder. Having visited Tucker's place a few times, Willett was familiar with the layout, and he was confident that he could outrun any zombies with his current speed. After weighing his options, he concluded that Tucker's house was indeed the safest bet for water, as other locations were teeming with zombies and posed greater danger.

Determined not to wait until his milk supply ran dry—which wouldn't sustain him for long—Willett prepared for the worst. Delays could only increase the risk of more zombies invading Tucker's home, making the water retrieval even riskier. So, he secured his clothing, armed himself with his homemade short spear, and set the ladder to bridge the gap between his and Tucker's balconies. With that, he embarked on his quest for water.