Making the Base Livable

26

Thinking about modifying the base, I hardly slept at all.

The space in the house was already quite limited. To maximize the utilization of resources, I quickly tidied up 901 and 903 and began transferring supplies.

Chris was also roped into helping with the heavy lifting.

I had initially planned to move the vegetables from the storage room too, considering it was unfair for Chris to keep sleeping in the living room.

But he didn't seem to mind, so I let it go.

All the household garbage was sealed tightly, with no odor.

I moved it from Anne's second bedroom to empty apartments on other floors.

When the water and power first went out, I worried about how to handle waste, but observing the situation, it seemed that the drainage pipes in the building weren't affected. We just had to manually fill the toilet tank each time we used it.

I moved all the hardware tools from David Stone's apartment to 903.

There were several large rolls of thick wire, probably scavenged from nearby hardware stores.

From now on, the 9th floor was divided into three functional areas:

living area, storage area, and work area.

The work area was essentially Chris's designated labor zone.

David Stone's wire locks inspired me.

The hallway's fire doors were single doors, unlike the ground floor, which could be bound together by tying the handles.

So, I hoped Chris could design a latch-like lock ring, making the 9th-floor fire doors accessible only from the inside.

"Helen, you really have a knack for being a landlord," Chris, with messy hair, said. "Have you ever watched 'The Midnight Rooster Crows'?"

Great, he was calling me a miser.

But since I needed his help, I could only promise to bring him breakfast later.

Back in the kitchen, I steamed a pot of sweet corn.

Anne appeared, drawn by the smell, just as I was heating up some milk.

"Go wash up first," I slapped her reaching hand away. "Someone obviously woke up a long time ago but pretended to be asleep and wouldn't get out of bed. I strongly condemn such behavior."

"Ah... really... who is it... never heard of such a person..." she pretended to look around.

I shoved a box of LED sensor lights into her arms. "Eat up, you need the energy for work."

The hallway and stairwell were poorly lit, pitch dark year-round.

With these lights, we wouldn't need to use flashlights to go up and down.

When I brought breakfast to Chris, he was working outside the door.

He used a power drill to insert expansion screws into the wall, twisted several wires together at the nut, and made a closed loop on the other end that fit perfectly over the door handle.

Once locked, no one could push the door open, and any force would only tighten the wire more.

At the same time, I decided to completely abandon the ground floor and basement exits. The dual-locking doors had given me a psychological shadow.

We moved all the large furniture we could find from the lower floors to block the front and back doors.

Chris then used expansion nuts and wires to create two nets, sealing the exits completely.

Adding the main entrance, we now had three layers of protection.

Anne looked at the fortified door and asked, "Helen, how are we supposed to get out in the future?"

I stroked my chin thoughtfully. "Haven't thought of that yet."

Seeing her face change, I quickly added, "Just kidding, just kidding."

Honestly, this woman didn't appreciate my humor.

After sealing the lower floors, the responsibility of connecting the inside and outside fell to the second floor.

In my plan, we would use ladders to go in and out, assembling them when needed and leaving no traces.

All rooms on the second and third floors were locked. Chris had to climb down from the balcony of 402, floor by floor.

Holding his weapon in his mouth and gripping the rope with both hands, he swung down effortlessly.

We held our breath, listening for any noise.

After a while, his voice came from below, "It's done, come down."

"Anne, you were right. Chris is very useful," I said, feeling a bit sentimental. "We need to treat him better."

The second floor was quickly occupied.

Gathering the spare keys, I began to inspect 202.

The biggest difference between this room and the ones upstairs was the two large terraces; combined, they were about thirty square meters.

The second floor was four to five meters above the ground, making a ladder that long impractical.

I climbed over the railing and walked around the edge of the terrace.

To the north was a green belt, and to the south was the main road of the community. I leaned out and saw an SUV parked directly below the terrace.

Estimating the height of the car's roof, it seemed like a good intermediate platform for going up and down.

Having made up my mind, I climbed back inside.

Anne was busy searching 202 for supplies.

"Where's Chris?"

"Probably went back up," she said without looking up.

He sure moved fast.

Back on the 9th floor, Chris was reclining with his eyes half-closed in his rocking chair.

"Mr. Carter?" I called tentatively.

He opened one eye and looked at me.

"More work for the capable, Mr. Carter. Can you help us make a few ladders?"

I poked the chair back, making it rock gently.

"Well, it's not impossible," he said, resting his hands behind his head. "But, extra work, extra pay. Have you thought about how to compensate me?"

Great, the tool man was rebelling, the long worker was rising up, the proletariat was standing up.

Most importantly, despite our deep friendship, he actually demanded payment from me.

But I could only curse him in my heart.

"I've thought about it," I said. "We'll make you our honorary team captain, how about that?"

"You said that the first time we met," Chris reminded me.

"Did I?" I had forgotten what promises I had made. "This time it's real, as real as it gets."

"And?"

"We'll never speak ill of you behind your back again," I promised earnestly.

Anyway, it's more fun to say bad things to his face.

"Sounds good," he shifted. "But, I'll only work two hours for free each day; any extra hours need to be compensated."

So that's what he was after. Chris really didn't like labor, did he?

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