I made up my mind and headed to the single room where the Yamaha motorcycle was parked. Earlier, in my rush to get it moving, I hadn’t really noticed this small space. It was about ten square meters. On the floor beside it sat a black box. Next to that box, I spotted something that could solve my current headache…

A thick metal plate. It looked heavy, probably meant for emergency towing.

I walked over, ignoring the box, and examined the upright plate. Up close, I realized it wasn’t just a simple slab. Its back had four small wheels. The plate was only slightly longer than the Yamaha. On its front were two holes with screws—clearly for securing a bike.

“With this, I might just get the bike onto the pickup truck’s bed,” I muttered.

Nodding, relief washed over me. Only then did I turn to the black box beside me.

It was a simple plastic case. I lifted it—it felt heavy. Curious, I opened it. Inside lay a full set of… motorcycle repair tools!

Even… a spare tire!

“Today’s a real windfall,” I grinned.

Snap! I shut the box, relocked it, and slid the metal plate down. It had weight but wasn’t too heavy.

I positioned it with the wheeled side down. From this angle, it looked just like a giant skateboard.

Amused, I tossed the box onto the plate. Glancing around, I spotted a bag hanging on the wall.

“This should be… a rain cover?”

I unzipped it. Inside was a light gray waterproof tarp, the kind for draping over vehicles.

I nodded and threw it onto the pile. Then I grabbed everything else useful hanging on the walls—ropes, nets—and dumped them onto the plate too. I didn’t know their purpose, but anything usable went on.

When I snapped back to reality, the pile on the plate stood half my height.

Chuckling wryly, I pushed this towering toolkit back to the pickup.

The truck still hummed loudly. I stacked everything neatly on its bed, sweating heavily. My clothes clung stickily to my skin, uncomfortable.

I unlatched the truck’s rear gate, then propped the metal plate against the edge. Its wheels had a lock switch. I pressed it, stepped on the plate twice to test its sturdiness, and finally pushed the Yamaha toward it…

This process was exhausting. After drenching myself in sweat and several frantic shoves, I finally heaved the nearly two-ton bike onto the truck bed.

I secured the plate in the bed with ropes, then fastened the bike to it. Only then did I notice the plate’s screw holes perfectly matched the Yamaha’s main stand.

From the toolbox, I found two matching screws and bolted the bike down tight. Wiping sweat from my brow, I relocked the rear gate and climbed back into the cab…

“Phew… I’m dead tired.”

Drenched and famished, my stomach growled loudly.

“Hmm… time to head home for dinner!”

I glanced at my watch. It was already past five?

And after all this time, no Zombies had appeared in the underground garage. That probably meant the mutated corpse really did scare them off. Were Zombies actually afraid?

But…

“Do Zombies even feel fear?” I muttered to myself. No answer came. This world was full of mysteries. I didn’t even know what had happened, let alone Zombie secrets.

One thing was certain, though: the world was already ruined. How far it had collapsed… well, I’d see slowly.

I restarted the pickup. With a roar, it climbed the steep ramp out of the garage.

The moment I emerged, I saw it…

Thick, dark clouds filled the sky. Daylight had vanished completely.

“Rain’s coming?!” I whispered, staring up.

I drove to the gate. Seeing no Zombies nearby, I got out to check the barrier.

It was an automatic electric gate, meant to scan license plates. But power was out now…

“Wait—the garage door had power earlier!” I glanced back. Sure enough…

“Solar panels? As expected.”

But they weren’t connected to the gate. How to open it? Push it manually?

No other choice. I walked to the gate’s side and shoved. Surprisingly light—probably due to the power outage. It slid open easily.

Just then, a Zombie’s roar cut through the truck’s engine noise. Faint but chilling.

“Damn! The pickup’s noise drew them!”

I sprinted back, slammed the door shut, and floored the accelerator. Tires screeched as the truck lurched forward.

I felt the push against my back, gripping the wheel to steer around the bend…

The instant I rounded it, a Zombie in a security uniform appeared in my headlights…

Spotting it, I slammed the gas pedal. Engine roaring, I gripped the wheel tight and rammed straight into it!

Thud!!

The Zombie flew backward. I braked hard, jolting forward—my face nearly hit the wheel. Only my chest’s soft padding stopped me just in time.

“Ugh!” I hissed, rubbing my sore chest. Irritation flared, then suddenly… a sharp cramp hit my gut.

“Shit!” I cursed, stomping the accelerator again. The truck sped away from the apartment complex, leaving the spine-broken Zombie writhing on the asphalt.