Chapter 2: 1.2 Tom Rhee

Department Store, 8:00 am.

“You are early, you troublemaker! So, are you finally buying something? ” The shop owner greets me with a smile. This isn’t the first time we are seeing each other. I often go to this department store to do some window shopping.

I show him a smug look and reveal the insides of my jacket pocketful of cash. “I also have a lot of coins.” I jingle my pockets creating that familiar metallic sound. There is no need to mention the bunch of cash that mom was ‘lending’ me.

“You didn’t steal from your mom, did you?” The shop owner doubtfully asks me.

My back becomes cold with sweat. I smile at the shop owner. “No way. These are all from my hard work worth two years of my youth. I was doing a lot of odd jobs you know. I don’t know if it already reached you, but I recently was able to make a lot of money yesterday just by making a speech about the coming apocalypse. So, do I have the money? Of course, I do… duh?”

The shop owner scoffs at my words. “Here you go again with the zombie apocalypse. You are too young to be a survivalist nut. Now, just go buy something! Make your two years of window shopping useful. Go spend that cash!”

I immediately skedaddle.

I carry my empty backpack and head to the aisle where I can get some food. What I need is compact, easy to consume, and has a relatively good expiration date. While getting canned goods might be the right answer in terms of the expiration date, I also have to factor in the weight of the entire thing.

I am literally an 8-year-old kid who barely has any muscles. I’ve been eating plenty well lately these past years and am doing exercises, but as a kid, it is impossible for me to surpass my biological limitation.

I finally arrive at my destination. In front of me are shelves of crackers. I stuff my backpack full of them, leaving some space for a few little things I still am deliberating on getting.

The backpack I am carrying is that of the hiking kind, so it can fit a lot of crackers, and even more, with its pockets on the inside and outside.

Next on my list is a weapon. Something that I can easily wield, and won’t consume much stamina. My juvenile physique is an important basis for choosing a weapon fitting for me.

“A hammer, the typical kind that people use on carpentry work. I can use this. With one good blow to a walker’s head, and they are dead.” I try swinging the hammer a bit, testing out if it suits me.

“I can give a good swing but has poor accuracy. It also strains my arm in every swing. Moreover, the recoil… If I miss only once, I’ll be dead. The hammer is a no-go.” I arrive at a conclusion quickly.

I spurn my mind to think of a weapon suitable to me. Chains? No, too whippy, and hard to control. Drill? Weird, but sounds cool enough, but still, requires too much effort to use.

Before I leave the hardware aisle, I grab a Swiss knife for my multi-purpose needs.

I arrive next to the kitchen aisle. Lots of knives, but their durability is a bit doubtful. Aside from doing maintenance on them to keep the blades sharp, I also have to take care not to accidentally cut myself.

This might sound overly cautious, but I won’t take my chances.

Suddenly, my attention catches a particular set of tools. “This… is an ice pick, right? Hmmm…” I grab the ice pick and give it a couple of swings. “Swift, good control, accurate, and easy to wield… I finally found my match. With how retarded the walkers are, I only need one good stab. I imagine the only hard part of wielding this weapon is pulling. If my weapon suddenly gets stuck in their flesh, it will be difficult for me to pull them out…”

I finalize on taking the ‘ice pick’ as my weapon. Considering the only disadvantage of wielding this weapon, I decide on buying a dozen of these picks. These ice picks are definitely harder than factory-manufactured knives.

I slowly complete my prep gear. A utility belt where I can stuff my picks, medicines, and… candies… Yep, the candies are a must-buy. I stuff some packs of candies in my backpack.

I also didn’t forget to buy my bare necessities for survival: a box of matchsticks, a nail cutter, a toothbrush, toothpaste, scissors, a flashlight, batteries, rope, a compass, and a map. In my opinion, all of these are necessary for my survival. This is my version of a survival kit in an apocalyptic world of zombies.

I arrive at the cashier. “Here, no need to put them in a plastic bag, just place it back in the bag.” I carry my bag to the cashier and open its zippers. The cashier quickly punches through the products.

“You got what you wanted?” Waiting for me by the department store’s exit is the shop owner.

I nod at him. “Yep, I am oh-so mighty done.”

“Good,” The shopkeeper gently nods at me which I find weird. “Go home, there has been news of a sickness spreading. I have a friend from the high places, he believes that there will be a pandemic soon.”

Where is the usual grumpy shopkeeper I know?

The jokes aside, I must take this ‘foreshadowing’ seriously. I don’t remember exactly the date of the start of the infection. I can only pray that I still have time.

You are reading story Starved, Solved, and Saved at novel35.com

I hurry home, riding on my pedal-fueled tricycle.

On second thought though… I should go and check the pharmacy first. I am definitely not doing this to avoid mom. It’s not also because I fear the consequences of going against mom. Grounded? Bah! Screw the ground. “The ground is grounded to me~ hahaha!”

In the middle of my inner monologue and fantasies, I see a lumbering figure in the middle of the road. I think… wasn’t it too early for this?

I nervously touch the pick in my utility belt.

“Groaa~” The lumbering figure growls at me. It looks like a woman. Hair covers her face, her shoulders are down, and her steps are a bit unbalanced.

I lunge from my tricycle at the lumbering figure with a pick in hand.

“Woah, woah, wait! It’s your friendly neighborhood girl-next-door.”

I halt on my steps. “That scared the shit out of me!”

Evie, the lumbering figure straightens her back and laughs at my awkward situation. “Ha! I was scared too when you came at me with such ferocity! Maaan, the apocalypse ain’t ready for you yet… What’s up with the dumb tricycle anyway? Can that run from your so-called walkers?”

She is but one of the few like-minded individuals I had contact with since I was six years old. After awakening parts of my past life’s memories, the first thing I did is to connect to the internet and join several forums of survival nuts.

While at it, I also was able to add ‘friends’ from the ‘main cast’ of the TWD series.

Evie is a character from episode 1 ‘Evie/Joe’ of The Walking Dead spinoff. Like Joe, Evie is a survivalist nut, although just at the level of ‘somewhat’… In simpler terms, she is not hardcore enough. I too am not hardcore enough… I am only six at the time, and with barely any funds, I won’t even be able to afford a bunker.

“Hey, like I said, what’s up with that dumb tricycle?”

Evie just can’t let it past teasing me over this small matter.

“I don’t know how to ride a bicycle. I always fall off…” I dully reply.

“HA… Ha… Hahahaha!”

I let her stew on her laughter for some time. Yeah, just laugh it off.

“So, tell me, where are you going? Don’t tell me you are going to run off with… that?” She suspiciously asks me as she eyes my bag.

“No, I am going to the pharmacy.”

“Give it up.”

“Why?”

“The pharmacy is closed. Some guy bought the pharmacy. Then… he took all of the stuff which was weird. Is that even legal? Anyways, I suggest you go home now.  A friend of mine said a martial law might be in place sometime now.”

At her advice, I immediately hurry home.

Today is August 18, 2010. There is still a week before the outbreak, but early signs are already pointing to its presence. This is scaring me.

In this life, I have a family unlike in my past life. I treasure this life greatly. While I admit I have attachments to my past life, that doesn’t mean I have to give up on this one.

The person I was before was no longer me. Today, I am just Tom Rhee, the 8-year-old kid who had somehow memories of this world in the form of a TV series.