You survived a couple of weeks! Your were car jacked and left for the zombies!

Honestly? Not bad. Two whole weeks is more than most people would manage, and for a brief, shining moment, you were absolutely that person. The one with a plan. The one everyone else would be scrambling to follow. You heard the news, kept your cool, and started loading up the car with supplies like some kind of prepper superhero. Food, water, blankets, survival gear. Very impressive. Very organized. Very doomed.

Here is the thing about survival situations: they have a way of exposing the one critical thing you forgot. For you, that was a weapon. Just one. A baseball bat, a kitchen knife, a strongly worded letter, anything. But no. You packed enough granola bars to outlast a siege and somehow did not account for the fact that other people also want to survive, and some of those people have significantly fewer scruples than you do.

Enter the hijackers. While you were out here optimizing your blanket-to-water ratio, a couple of opportunists with zero survival gear and zero hesitation spotted your fully loaded vehicle and made a business decision. Your car, your supplies, and your entire two-week survival strategy drove off without you, leaving you stranded in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your thoughts and an incoming horde of the undead.

The zombies were almost a formality at that point. You had already been defeated by the living, which is somehow more embarrassing. Still, two weeks is nothing to completely dismiss. You had vision. You had initiative. You had a surprisingly well-stocked cooler. The execution just needed a little work, specifically the part where you protect the execution from being stolen at gunpoint. A minor detail. Very fixable, in theory, for your next apocalypse.