Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Risa took the items and supplies she had gathered and laid them out on the wooden floor, sorting through them with practiced efficiency.

A flashlight. A multi-tool. A small camping stove—still fueled, though only enough for a few uses. A bottle of painkillers. A rope—thick but slightly worn. A handful of batteries. A compass—it might help if they got lost.

She frowned as she set aside a folded map and a set of notes, intending to check them later.

Standing up, she made her way to the bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit she had seen earlier. The case was dusty, but inside, the bandages were still sealed, and the antiseptic wipes hadn't dried out. This will be invaluable.

Returning to the main room, she grabbed the weapons she had taken from their unwelcome visitor: the shotgun, the machete, and the knife.

Setting the shotgun aside, she ran her fingers over the machete's handle. It was a good weapon—silent, deadly, and effective up close. The knife was useful, too, both as a weapon and a tool, but she hesitated. I probably won't use this for food. Who knows if the last owner used it on infected?

She sighed, sitting back down on the couch, her eyes landing on the map and notes.

The map showed their current location—a secluded cabin deep in the woods. A marked path led to the nearest city, but what caught Risa's attention was a large exclamation point scrawled over it.

A warning? A danger zone?

Frowning, she turned her attention to the notes. Flipping through the pages, she realized they were logs—journal entries written by one of the campers.

From what she read, the man and his girlfriend had fled from the city. According to his notes, he had witnessed an attack firsthand—a man lunging at another on the street, biting him. Like a zombie.

Panicked, he had grabbed his girlfriend, packed their gear, and escaped, heading straight for his family's cabin in hopes of hiding out.

The later entries confirmed what Risa had already suspected.

The city was overrun.

The police had been overwhelmed, their firepower insufficient against the growing hordes. By the time the military responded, it was already too late.

Risa exhaled slowly, setting the notes down. So, the city was lost.

Her fingers traced the exclamation point on the map. She rubbed her temple; she needed to think. Supplies, weapons, next steps. They couldn't just stay here.

Based on what she had read, the military had arrived—just late. Possibly because they were trying to clean up their own mess before responding to the cities. Wouldn't be surprising because they started this whole fucking apocalypse in the first place.

But since they still responded. They might have put up some shelters for survivors. But was staying in one really their best option?

Risa frowned. She still didn't have enough information about this world. She wanted to know why this world's police force hadn't been able to fight back against the zombies. At the start of the apocalypse, all zombies should have been only Level 1—slow and mindless. Anyone should have been able to fight them off. Though, a mob of Level 1 zombies was still dangerous and a serious problem to deal with.

Back in her world, she had been a police officer. Before that, she had served in the military to pay for her education. If a city suddenly got swarmed by the infected, our police force would have been able to hold out. They had heavy-duty weapons, riot gear, and enough ammo to hold the line until the military arrived.

So, what was different here?

The bedroom door creaked open, pulling her from her thoughts.

Amelia stepped out, blinking sleep from her eyes. She looked at Risa—then at the scattered supplies.

Risa glanced at her and smiled warmly. "Ah, you're awake. Good morning."

'If coffee was available, I'd offer her some. God, I want coffee,' she thought to herself.

Meanwhile, Amelia just stood there, staring at her, too stunned to speak.

The white-haired woman thought that Risa had been acting weird since they left the barn. 'Did she hit her head or something?'

Risa leaned back against the couch, watching as Amelia. After a moment of silence, she decided to bring up something important.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" Risa asked, her tone casual but serious.

Amelia blinked at her, clearly caught off guard. "A gun?" she echoed.

Risa nodded, picking up the pistol she had set aside earlier. "Yeah. If another fight happens, it's better if you can defend yourself."

Amelia hesitated before shaking her head. "I… don't know how to use one," she admitted. "Never had a reason to learn."

Risa wasn't surprised that she doesn't know how to use one. "I can teach you," she offered. "Just the basics—how to hold it, aim, fire. For self-defense."

Amelia's expression was unreadable as she glanced at the gun in Risa's hands. Then, as if realizing something, she looked back up at her. "Where did you learn how to use a gun?" she asked. "And… where did you even get one?"

Risa replied without even thinking. "I got it when I joined the police force."

Amelia's brow shot up. "You're a marketing manager."

Risa froze. A chime echoed in her head.

— The original occupant of this body has a different upbringing and job than the host.

Risa's eye twitched. 'You didn't think to tell me that earlier!?' she screamed internally.

Laughing awkwardly, she waved a hand. "Just kidding."

Amelia narrowed her eyes.

Risa cleared her throat. "I, uh… I stole it at Douglas' camp." It was a lame excuse, but it was better than admitting she wasn't who Amelia thought she was.

Amelia didn't look convinced, but after a moment, she just sighed and shook her head. "…Fine."

Risa took that as a win.

Amelia sat down beside her on the couch, her movements slow and uncertain. Risa took out her handgun, checking the safety before handing it to Amelia grip-first.

"First things first," Risa said, her tone even. "Always assume a gun is loaded. Never point it at something you don't intend to shoot."

Amelia took the gun hesitantly, her fingers adjusting awkwardly around the grip and it was heavier than she imagined. Risa reached over, gently repositioning her hands. "Hold it like this. You want a firm grip, but not too tight. If you squeeze too hard, your hands will shake."

Amelia nodded, adjusting her grip as instructed. "Like this?"

"Better." Risa leaned back slightly, watching her. "Now, when you aim, don't just look at the target—line up the sights. Your dominant eye should be focused on the front sight, not the whole gun."

Amelia furrowed her brow as she tried to do what Risa said, raising the gun with both hands. "And the trigger?" she asked.

"Finger off it until you're ready to shoot," Risa warned. "You don't want to fire by accident."

Amelia swallowed, nodding again. "Okay. And… recoil? Guns have recoil, right?"

Risa smirked slightly. "Yeah, they kick back when you fire. That's why your stance matters. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent. Absorb the recoil with your arms, not your wrists."

Amelia listened carefully, shifting in place to mimic the stance despite sitting down. It was clear she was nervous, but she was trying.

Risa watched her for a moment before speaking again. "We'll practice more later—outside, when it's safer. For now, just get used to holding it."

Amelia exhaled, lowering the gun slightly. "Alright." She hesitated, then glanced at Risa. "…Thanks for teaching me."

Risa shrugged. "No problem. You should know how to defend yourself."

Amelia looked at the gun in her hands, then at Risa again. There was something unreadable in her expression, but she didn't say anything more.

For now, that was enough.