Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[16] Working out the details

After that, I told her about the strange occurrence that happened at the science building, Ms. Yan listened with an incredulous expression on her face. 

"You're telling me they completely ignored you?" she questioned, a hint of skepticism in her voice. 

"You walked through a horde of zombies, and none of them even looked at you?"

"I know it sounds crazy," I replied, the image of the moment still fresh in my mind. 

"But that's exactly what happened. When James shut the door on me, I was surrounded by the undead. I was prepared for the end, ready to feel their teeth on my skin. But...nothing happened. They walked right past me, as if I wasn't there."

I could see a whirlwind of emotions pass through her eyes – confusion, fear, doubt, and finally, a glimmer of hope. 

"But why?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why would they ignore you? Do you think...you're immune?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "I don't even know if that's a thing. 

"Can people be immune to...zombies?" The words felt odd to say out loud, as if just speaking them brought the nightmare further into reality.

"And what if it happens again?" she continued, her gaze locked onto mine. "What if they keep ignoring you? That would be...that could be our way out of here."

Her words hung heavy in the silence that followed. The possibility was tantalizing, a ray of hope in an otherwise grim situation. But it was also a dangerous gamble. There was no guarantee that the zombies would continue to ignore me, and if they didn't, the consequences could be fatal.

"Perhaps," I finally responded, the gravity of her words settling in. "But we can't count on it. We can't risk everything on a possibility. Our plan remains the same – we prepare, we travel north, and we try to survive."

"But," I added, a newfound determination burning in my chest, "If it happens again, if they ignore me, then we use it to our advantage. We take every opportunity we get."

Our discussion then turned into a detailed planning session, our only source of light being the single lamp on the living room table. I traced our path on the old, worn-out map, using a pencil to mark potential stops and alternative routes.

"We need to be strategic about this," I emphasized, glancing at Ms. Yan. "The major highways will be a death trap. Too many people, too much chaos. We need to stick to the smaller roads, the less-traveled paths."

She nodded, her eyes tracing the path I had marked on the map. "What about supplies? We need food, water, medicine...maybe even extra fuel."

"You're right," I agreed. "We should make a list of everything we need. And we have to pack light. We can't afford to be weighed down or slowed down."

We spent the next several hours strategizing our route, discussing potential dangers, and listing down everything we would need for the journey. Every decision was a matter of life or death. One wrong move, one overlooked detail, could be the end of us.

By the time we finished, the dawn was already breaking, the first rays of light peeking through the curtains. Despite the exhaustion, there was an air of determination between us. We had a plan. We had a chance.

As we set off towards Reno, I couldn't help but glance back at the house one last time. The house where I had grown up, the house where my parents had raised me. The house that, now, I might never see again. But as we drove away, I felt a strange sense of peace. We were no longer helpless victims waiting for our end. We were survivors, moving towards hope. And whatever lay ahead, we would face it together. 

Q: Do you move a lot?