Drama

Karl glanced back at Curtis, who had stepped out behind him, looking alert.

"Shit," Curtis muttered. "This is gonna be bad."

Karl nodded. Yeah. It was.

They both made their way toward the commotion, where a man—one of the older residents, Greg—was standing in the middle of the hall, face red with fury.

"Someone broke into my damn storage box!" Greg bellowed, pointing at the half-open metal container against the wall. Inside, Karl could see the emptied shelves—where cans, dried goods, and emergency rations should have been, there was nothing left.

"They took everything!" Greg's voice shook with rage. "Whoever it was, they're dead when I find them!"

The crowd murmured, whispers of suspicion and paranoia spreading like wildfire.

Karl scanned the faces around him. People were already looking at each other, distrust creeping in.

This was how it started.

Food was everything. Trust was fragile.