King of the rubbish

He got chased often.

He soon became used to it.

In the movies they were always featured as slow but in reality their speeds varied;

Others were fast. The slow ones were only slow because of their injuries before death. They dragged their heavy legs and broken limbs knowing they would never catch anyone. Still, they tried.

He tucked himself away in an ally after making a quick spear with a mopstick and broken glass bottle. At the sound of then coming he turned over the trash in panic and hopped in.

They looked down the alley. A few entered, their necks snapping and cracking as they pondered his sudden disappearance. They eventually dispersed, hoobling out of the alley.

He sat in the bin, stunned that it worked.

He would continue to do so whenever he heard them drawing near.

Thankfully they lacked the intelligence to open things with their hands, and to do things like check places. Since they responded to sound he would make sure not to make them suspect the trash. He had witnessed them knock some over once in pursuit of someone.

He spent his days, hobbling in and out of dumpsters, prepping them for future escapes, collecting his arsenal of weapons by poking his head in and out of stores. Abandoning his collections of food and glass bottles in clean dumpsters only to return to them after leading them elsewhere.

Until one day the dumpster he was sleeping in got knocked over. (He rinsed it clean with a nearby hose of a diner, don't worry)

Feet slammed against the pavement, a group of survivors found themselves meeting the dead end.

They fought off the zombies advising the girl of the group, a redhead to escape alone and climb over it but she was hesitant.

Hide sneered, fucking simps, as if such a frail looking thing would last on her own alone out there. They could actually climb over it if they aimed for the corners of the alley. Sadly they seemed to nothing about the benefits of parkour.

He could wait it out and wait for the group of zombies to park our after eating them but he could get discovered once they finished them off too. He couldn't afford to chance it. Strength after all, was in numbers.

He crawled out.

While the two kept their attention, he quietly took out the ones from the back. Taking out one leg before working his way to their head.

The sounds of the guys upfront swinging a nail bat was much louder in comparison. The ones in the middle didn't hear the sound of their companions heads getting punched in until it was too late.

Before long the three mowed them down and stood staring each other down.

"...Thanks." a guy with a cap huffed. He had a mole under his left eye.

A knife was pointed at his throat, the redhead who stood in the back held it there.

"Who are you?"

"What are you doing? He just saved us!"

"So what? he could be with the Ravens trying to recruit us."

Was this her way of contributing to the group after standing by and staring?

The tall guy with resting bitch face nodded.

"She's right."

"Unbelievable." Hideyoshi wasn't aware of how much time had passed. He simply knew it was still the same year. Winter had yet to arrive, although the trees had been starting to die. But factions had started to form and fast. He had noticed the settlements on the rooves of buildings and that others had taken over gated public areas like schools, but he kept out of it.

"I'm not part of them."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"Did I ask you for anything?" he swatted the knife out of her hand with ease.

The two boys stepped forward.

"How about you three get out of here? This is my area. You're attracting too much attention."

"Who are you?"

"What does it matter? Just get lost."

They eyed him.

"I'm the king of the rubbish." He joked.

The next time he ran into other survivors they would spot him and approach, often asking for information.

He helped if he could and before long it got out of hand. They began to wait in the alleys for him.

He began to stay home.

His weekly routine consisted of shopping for supplies and food, weapon making and checking the state of his own home out of paranoia. When he first returned he found it ransacked.

The fridge and side dishes were cleaned out and his clothes and underwear were missing too, the same applied to his mother and sister's rooms. They even took all the back up supplies of toilet paper and candles.

Whoever it was he really wanted to murder them in that moment.

After restocking his home he made plans for the winter. He didn't want to leave the house at all if he could help it.

He hoped to run into his mother and sister someday, that they would have some grand plan that could take them out of the city somewhere safe. If that still existed. But he knew it was just a fantasy. For all he knew they could be dead somewhere roaming the streets.

As the land grew colder the zombies became less active, they hid from it and the factions who spray paint their insignias on the walls and buildings, bordering the streets with their colors- the sound of their fights grew louder and closer everyday but he kept out of it.

Until one day his front door got busted down.