Day 234 - Tuesday, 8:00 AM
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We stood at the U-Zone gate, the world waiting on the other side.
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Ajay, Mr. Amar, and I did one final check of our gear - food, water, weapons, backup supplies. Everything we'd need to survive.
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The Chief approached with quiet dignity, handing Mr. Amar a small gold ring. "For your journey," he said. "As a symbol of honor... and hope."
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Rosy followed, holding a beautifully wrapped batik dress. "For your wife," she smiled. "She deserves something beautiful after all this."
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Mr. Amar was speechless. His hands trembled as he accepted the gifts. After a long pause, he looked around at everyone and said, "Thank you. Once I find her... I promise, I'll return here. I'll come home again."
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And then it happened.
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After 233 days, Ajay and I stepped out from the walls of U-Zone - our safe zone, our cage, our home.
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The outside world was brutal from the first breath.
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The smell was unbearable - death and decay hanging in the air like poison. I gagged.
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"Get used to it," Mr. Amar said calmly. "You can't survive if you can't breathe the truth."
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I nodded. This was real. This was raw.
This is nothing like the movies.
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According to the plan, we would travel southwest to Lumut Jetty, taking four days. From there, Mr. Amar would continue north toward Langkawi, and Ajay and I would head south - toward Melaka... toward Valli.
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We avoided highways - too many Rottens. Instead, we took village roads hidden by oil palm estates, where the silence could be both blessing and trap.
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As we walked, Mr. Amar shared survival tips and stories. How to spot ambush points. How to read weather changes. How to keep moving even when your legs beg you to stop. Every word felt like a golden brick for the road ahead.
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We spotted a few zombies, slow and groaning, wandering the edges of the estates. We held our breath, stayed low, and waited for the right moment.
Sometimes, surviving is about not moving.
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By noon, we reached a kampung village. Empty, but intact. One of the wooden houses looked perfect for a short break. We secured the perimeter before stepping in.
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Inside, traces of life lingered - photos on the wall, a broken slipper near the doorway, a soft toy on the floor. Maybe an old nenek and her granddaughter lived here once.
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We found a torchlight, a lighter, and, tucked in a drawer, a keris - a beautifully crafted traditional Malay weapon. Mr. Amar inspected it, nodding with respect.
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As we ate lunch quietly, Mr. Amar pulled out a small bag from his pack. It was filled with... fridge magnets.
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"I collect these," he said with a faint smile. "Every place I've been. It helps me remember... that I lived."
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Ajay and I looked at each other, speechless.
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"You should start collecting something too," Mr. Amar said. "Not just for memories. For your soul."
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By evening, we reached a café in Siputeh Permai, hidden deep in a housing area, far from the main road - the perfect spot for the night.
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We checked the entire area and set up Cyclops, a four-directional camera system Mr. Shaiful had built. One screen. Four angles. Our eyes in the dark.
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Dinner was quiet. Canned food and soft roti.
We played cards, made light jokes. Laughed, just a little.
It felt almost... normal.
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We took turns sleeping. One always awake. One always watching Cyclops.
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When it was my turn, I stared at the screen... then at the stars outside.
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I was exhausted. My back ached. My hands were sore.
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But deep inside, something stronger was burning -
Valli. I'm coming.
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and then Add to home screen.