Nightmares in the Lobby

I never thought I'd be playing bodyguard to an old lady in a ruined apartment building during the apocalypse, but here we were.

She insisted on coming along. "I'm not staying up there by myself," she'd said, voice surprisingly firm for someone with shaky hands. She gripped a weathered cane that looked sturdy enough to break a jaw if it came down to it.

George tried to talk her out of it—so did I, to be fair—but she just gave us both a stern look that reminded me of a retired drill sergeant. "Boy, I've lived through two wars and three hurricanes. You think some drooling freaks are going to keep me locked in a closet?"

I shrugged, wincing at the ache in my ribs. "Fine. But we're doing this carefully."

And that's how I ended up on the landing between the third and second floors, old lady at my left, George behind us carrying his little revolver with trembling hands. I led the way, blood-drenched bat resting on my shoulder.

"By the way," I muttered to her, "I never got your name."

"Name's Bernice," she said, her voice low but unwavering. "And if we make it out of this, I'll bake you one hell of a pie."

I snorted. "Can't say no to that."

George let out a brittle laugh. "Pie… in a time like this? You two are nuts."

"Says the guy who fired six shots into a lamp and missed the monster entirely," I teased. He just grumbled in response.

The building groaned around us, as if the structure itself was on the verge of collapse. We reached the second-floor corridor, and I bit down a curse. The entire hallway was ripped to shreds: floor partially caved in, walls decorated with deep claw marks. The smell of rotting flesh hung heavy in the air.

An upturned vending machine blocked the path. Something had torn a chunk out of it, revealing crushed soda cans and half-eaten candy bars. Great—our local creatures apparently had a sweet tooth.

I motioned for the others to stay back. Carefully, I nudged aside some debris.

Nothing jumped out yet. Good.

I crawled over the vending machine to scout ahead. The hall was scattered with furniture debris, bits of plaster, and… yeah, body parts. The overhead emergency lights flickered, painting everything in a lurid red.

"What do you see?" Bernice whispered. She was surprisingly stealthy.

"No movement," I said, stepping around a severed arm. "Could be a trap, though."

She climbed over the vending machine with a grace that defied her age. George followed, muttering under his breath. The corridor opened into the main lobby stairwell on the far side. We just had to cross about thirty feet of collapsed floor and tattered wallpaper.

"Man, this place used to have a two-star rating at best," I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Bernice actually chuckled. "At least the roaches kept to themselves back then."

We made it halfway when a feral snarl echoed from behind us. I spun, bat raised. Two new creatures emerged from the shadows near the vending machine, drool dripping off their fangs. They were bigger, bulkier—like someone had shoved a grizzly bear's upper body onto a human frame. Their eyes glowed in the flickering lights.

George yelped and leveled his revolver, but his hand shook. Bernice squared her shoulders, cane at the ready.

I cracked my neck. "Alright, big guys, let's do this quickly."

The first monster roared, bounding forward. I met it halfway, swinging the bat in a heavy arc. CRUNCH—it caught the blow right in the snout. A splatter of blackish blood rained across the wall. The creature recoiled but stayed upright, spitting out broken teeth.

Its buddy lunged at Bernice, who, to my shock, jabbed forward with her cane. The tip rammed into the thing's throat. It staggered back, choking.

"Not today, you damn beast!" she snapped. The look in her eyes said she wasn't going down without a fight.

The first monster came at me again, slashing with razor-sharp claws. One found a gap in my guard, opening a fresh wound on my forearm. I hissed but swung upward, caving in the creature's ribs. My bat connected with wet, meaty force. Ribs snapped like dry twigs.

It howled, stumbling—then I reversed the swing and brought the bat crashing down on its skull. The splatter hit the ceiling with a noise that made George retch. Over-the-top? You bet.

The second monster, still reeling from Bernice's cane, tried to barrel past her to get at George. She whacked it across the back of the knees. It dropped onto all fours, scrabbling for balance.

"George, shoot it!" I shouted.

George swallowed hard and fired twice. One round pinged off the floor. The other struck the creature in the shoulder, spraying out a chunk of flesh. It roared in pain and pivoted… right into my waiting bat.

WHAM—I felt its jaw break beneath my swing. I kept going, adrenaline urging me on, smashing the monster repeatedly until it lay in pieces, bleeding out across the torn carpet.

+20 XP +15 XP

"Ugly lumps of—ugh," Bernice growled, wiping her cane on a rag of cloth lying nearby.

George was breathing hard, looking from the shredded corpses to us. "I… I can't believe we're doing this."

"Welcome to the apocalypse," I said, forcing a tight grin. "Now let's see if we can make it downstairs without more interruptions."

We moved in silence. Even the building seemed quieter, though the air was thick with dread. Down the staircase, the lobby windows came into view.

They were smashed. Rain blew in from outside, mixing with swirling ash. Beyond the broken glass, the street looked like a war zone—fires, destroyed cars, half-collapsed buildings. I spotted shapes prowling among the wreckage, some big, some small. Not a single normal human in sight.

Bernice let out a heavy breath. "Dear Lord…"

We stepped into the lobby, which was mostly caved in. The reception desk was overturned, and a fine layer of dust coated everything. A half-devoured security guard lay sprawled near the exit, the radio on his belt squawking static.

George swiped at his eyes, voice unsteady. "This is insane. What… what's the plan?"

Before I could answer, the air shimmered. A big blue screen popped up right in front of me:

WORLD QUEST: THE FIRST NIGHT Survive until dawn. Additional Bonus for Saving Survivors. Time Remaining: 8 hours 57 minutes

I frowned. "Eight hours. So I guess something's happening at sunrise."

Bernice gripped her cane. "A 'World Quest'? Like in those video games my grandson plays?"

"Yeah. Except it's real. And we're all stuck in it."

George paced in a circle, eyes darting. "We can't just wait eight hours in this building, can we? I mean, maybe it's safer inside than out, but if more of those things show up…"

He wasn't wrong.

I tapped my bat against my palm. "We can barricade the entrances. At least buy ourselves time to figure out what to do next. If dawn is some major checkpoint, I'm guessing we should do whatever it takes to see that sunrise."

Bernice peered at the demolished doors and windows. "We'll need supplies, tools, maybe some furniture. If the building's infested, we've got to clear it out or block it off."

George looked pale but determined. "I…I'll help gather anything that can be used for barricades."

"Good," I said. "Let's make a base of operations here in the lobby—somewhere we can keep an eye out for survivors or more monsters. Bernice, you—"

"Don't go thinking I'm a helpless granny," she cut me off. "I can hold my own. You saw what I did to that freak upstairs."

I raised my hands in surrender. "Yes, ma'am. How about you watch the front entrance while George and I scrounge for materials?"

She nodded, setting her cane next to her so she could push an overturned desk toward the shattered doors. The woman was sturdier than she looked.

George and I made our way behind the reception desk, sifting through the wreckage. We found a maintenance closet with a battered metal door. Inside were some battered tools—hammers, nails, a heavy wrench—and a dusty old fire axe. I took the axe in place of my bat for a while. Maybe a bit of variety if something needed hacking.

As we scavenged, a system prompt flickered in my peripheral vision:

New Equipment Found: Fire Axe (Common) Damage Type: Slashing Condition: 70%

I mentally stashed it in my newly unlocked inventory slot. I tested the system by pulling the axe in and out a few times, feeling like a stage magician. George looked at me like I was a space alien.

"Long story," I muttered, shrugging. "Let's just say I can store stuff. Super convenient."

We spent the next half hour dragging wrecked furniture across the lobby, stacking it against the broken windows. The doors were beyond repair, so I hammered nails and boards into what remained of the frames, forming a makeshift barrier. It wouldn't keep out a determined monster forever, but maybe it'd slow them down.

Bernice helped the entire time, surprising me with her grit. At one point, I saw her jab a crowbar into the hallway floor, prying up loose boards to reinforce the blockade. She even taught George how to tie a decent knot with wire and cloth. Old lady had skills.

While hammering, my system pinged softly:

Temporary Stronghold Created Defenses: Low Populace: 3 Recommended Action: Increase Security

"Sure, we'll just put in a laser grid," I joked under my breath, tossing aside broken nails.

Bernice snorted. "I missed that. You say something, dear?"

I shook my head. "Nothing important."

We'd only just finished our impromptu barricade when something outside let out a feral screech. The three of us went rigid. We crouched behind the desk, peering out through the cracks.

A huge shape limped into view on the street, dragging a massive chunk of metal behind it. Looked like it used to be a telephone pole. The creature had a spiky carapace and multiple eyes, each glowing a sickly yellow in the gloom.

George sucked in a breath. "That's not fair. Why does it get armor?"

I tapped the desk, swallowing. "Just… keep quiet."

We watched it lumber past the building. It paused, sniffing the air. My heart hammered—definitely no thrumming—for a second, I thought it would come crashing right through the door. Instead, it moved on, disappearing behind a wrecked bus.

I exhaled.

"We are so out of our league," George whispered.

Bernice gave me a look. "You think we can kill that?"

I shrugged, wiping sweat from my brow. "Probably. I mean, I can always resurrect if it kills me."

They both stared, still not used to the concept. In fairness, neither was I. But I'd take that advantage any day.

Outside, the distant sounds of chaos continued—screams, metal twisting, the roar of beasts. Fire glowed in the distance.

The system prompt about the World Quest hovered in my vision:

Time Until Dawn: 8 hours 23 minutes

I turned to Bernice and George. "Alright. If we're going to hold out until sunrise, we need more survivors, more weapons, and maybe some actual plan. Because something tells me these barricades won't last if another big freak decides to say hi."

George swallowed. "Should we search neighboring buildings?"

"We could," I said. "But that means stepping outside into Monster Town."

Bernice cracked her knuckles with surprising confidence. "You handle the big lumps. I'll watch your back."

I couldn't help but grin. "Now that's the spirit."

I glanced back at the door leading upstairs. A handful of other survivors were presumably holed up in their apartments. Some might have died already.

I wanted to rescue them, but stepping out into the city could yield more resources… or immediate death. Then again, immediate death for me was just a brief inconvenience.

"Alright," I decided. "We'll do a quick sweep of this block. If the place isn't crawling with abominations, we can salvage gear and maybe find more living people. That way we stand a better chance once real trouble arrives."

George nodded, trying to look brave. Bernice just checked her cane, then gave me a defiant nod. "Lead the way, son."

I allowed myself one more glance outside. Fires danced along the broken skyline. Roars and shrieks filled the air. The apocalypse had turned my city into a twisted nightmare, but I had no plans to lie down and take it.

"Stay close," I said. "And if we run into that spiky biggie… well, we improvise."

And with that, we stepped out into the ruin, determined to survive another eight hours—and maybe crack some skulls in the process.