In the post-apocalyptic world, the cardinal rule of survival is clear: never be a naive do-gooder.

  Vincent, a man of calculated calm, harbors a fierce will to survive. This drive pushes him to extremes, often casting him in a cold, unfeeling light. Perhaps he isn't inherently heartless, but the harsh realities force him to adopt a steely demeanor. However, Vincent is no longer a lone wolf; he needs allies to navigate this treacherous landscape. Cooperation is key, and Vincent has subtly assumed a leadership role. To maintain this position, he must temper his coldness, as excessive detachment breeds mistrust. People would fear that Vincent might sacrifice them for his survival. While Vincent knows he wouldn't, the perception alone is dangerous.

  Thus, Vincent must strike a balance—remaining composed but not cold-hearted. He must make decisions, weigh pros and cons, and avoid outright rejection. He had established three rules with his group, the foremost being: never be a naive do-gooder!

  What if they encounter other survivors in distress? If the zombies are few, lend a hand; if they are many, flee. Even if the person dies, it's not their fault—the zombies are the true evil.

  Under normal circumstances, if the person on Oak Street weren't Robbie, Vincent's group wouldn't have stopped. Oak Street teems with zombies, and Vincent's large group is a conspicuous target. Risking their safety to save a stranger isn't worth it, even if there were ten of them. The life of a familiar face outweighs a hundred strangers.

  Vincent knows Robbie. They've crossed paths multiple times, and recently, Vincent even saved him. Vincent is familiar with Robbie's exceptional marksmanship, a skill that makes him a valuable ally in a world devoid of government or military protection, where zombies and danger lurk everywhere. Adding a sharpshooter to their ranks significantly boosts their safety.

  After a violent car explosion, Robbie lies on the ground, his back slightly scraped but not fatally wounded. The blast leaves him with severe tinnitus and dizziness. His vision blurs, and exhaustion overwhelms him. Just before passing out, he hears the screech of tires and the distinct sounds of gunfire—AK-47s and M16s.

  "Quick, he's out cold."

  "Grab him and let's move, no time to waste!"

  These are the last words Robbie hears before losing consciousness.

  Robbie doesn't know how long he's been out. He feels as though he's on a small boat in a stormy sea, the vessel rocking violently.

  The car's jolting motion rouses Robbie briefly. He sees Vincent, his vision still doubled, but Vincent's distinctive features are unmistakable. Robbie realizes he's in a car, surrounded by strangers.

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  "Doc..."

  Thud!

  Robbie barely utters the word before the car jolts again, slamming his head against the seat. The impact, minor under normal circumstances, is too much for his weakened state, and he blacks out once more.

  "Jason, hold him down. I don't want him dying on us," Vincent frowns, glancing over Robbie at Jason.

  "Got it," Jason replies with a casual nod.

  "Mike, how much farther?" Vincent shoots Jason a stern look before tapping the driver's seat.

  "Two blocks!" Mike answers, glancing at Robbie in the rearview mirror. The others in the car also eye Robbie curiously, wondering why Vincent risked their safety and ammunition to save a man who might already have been dead.

  The car speeds through unfamiliar streets. Vincent isn't well-acquainted with Brooklyn; he works in Manhattan and rarely ventures out at night unless for emergencies. His knowledge of Brooklyn is limited to the red-light districts controlled by gangs.

  Their destination is the only Walmart in Brooklyn, located on Second Avenue in the west. Walmart, the world's largest retailer, has struggled to establish a presence in New York City, but this particular store opened in January, spanning four floors and nearly 30,000 square meters, including an underground parking lot.

  Vincent's plan involves heading to Walmart after securing weapons for three reasons. First, Walmart is a massive repository of supplies. With production halted post-apocalypse, pre-made goods are essential for survival, and supermarkets are the best source.

  Second, Vincent believes Walmart is relatively safe. The store opens at 8 AM, and the outbreak occurred around 7 AM, meaning there were no customers inside. However, night guards and early staff would have been present, so some zombies are likely inside. But Walmart's reinforced glass windows are hard to break, offering temporary safety once inside.

  Third, the underground parking lot is crucial. Functional vehicles are lifelines, and their current Ford is too cramped and unreliable for long-term use.

  As the Ford speeds down the street, Walmart's massive sign comes into view. The area is surprisingly clear of zombies, contrary to Vincent's expectation that others might have already sought refuge there, drawing zombies. But he overlooks that only two days have passed since the outbreak, and most survivors are still hiding at home. Few have the courage or means to venture out like Vincent's group.

  Approaching Walmart, the road widens, and the zombie density thins. The car moves more smoothly.

  "Get ready!" Vincent shoulders five rifles and several bags of pistols and ammunition, totaling over 30 kilograms. His physical condition allows him to carry this load temporarily.

  The others follow suit, arming themselves while Mike drives.

  Screech!

  Thirty meters from the glass doors, the Ford halts abruptly due to the store's steps and shopping cart barriers. Vincent's group leaps out. Mike, armed with a shotgun, blasts a zombie's head and grabs two bags of ammunition before sprinting toward the store.

  Vincent and Jason drag the unconscious Robbie out, pistols in hand, with Mannila and Christine close behind. Laura, the better shot, covers the rear. They fight their way toward the store.

  The scattered zombies pose little threat, and the group reaches the doors without major incident.

  "Damn it, the doors are locked from the inside!" Mike shouts.

  Logically, the store should have been preparing to open at 7 AM, with staff inside. The locked doors suggest survivors within.