Chapter 10
In the dead of night, an explosion echoed near the building where Nathan was, abruptly pulling him out of his sleep. He shot up from the bed, startled, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Without knowing where the sound had come from, he quickly left his room, his footsteps hurried but cautious.
When he reached the living room, he scanned the area. Everything was just as it had been before he went to sleep: the chairs were still in place, the sofa blocking the door hadn't been moved, and there were no signs that anyone—or anything—had entered. A small wave of relief swept over him as he confirmed that everything was in order inside the apartment. However, that relief vanished as quickly as it had come when a chorus of screams from outside broke through the silence, sending a chill of anxiety rushing through him.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Nathan walked slowly toward the balcony. He carefully opened the door and stepped out, letting the cool night air hit his skin. From there, his eyes scanned the dark, chaotic streets. That's when he saw them: survivors. A group of people was running desperately, shouting things he couldn't quite make out.
He watched as they sprinted into the building across the street, but they weren't alone. Dozens of zombies were chasing them, moving erratically but relentlessly. Nathan leaned over the railing slightly, and that's when he saw the source of the explosion that had woken him. A car, engulfed in flames, was burning fiercely in the middle of the street. The fire rose high into the night sky, casting flickering shadows across the surrounding area.
"I don't know if that was their way of getting here or if someone made a mistake that caused it to blow up, but either way, that thing doesn't look good," he muttered to himself.
Though the storm had passed, the flames showed no signs of dying out anytime soon. The reddish light they emitted illuminated the streets, allowing him to see more clearly as an increasing number of zombies were drawn to the scene, lured by the noise and the fire. Poor bastards, he thought as he watched the group of survivors. If they didn't find a way out of that building quickly, there was no doubt they'd be overrun by the growing horde outside.
Nathan leaned on the railing, gripping it tightly as his thoughts raced. With so many zombies flooding the streets, leaving the building now would be far more difficult than he had anticipated. It was absolute chaos. There were simply too many for him to handle alone.
"This complicates things," he murmured, assessing the situation. He knew he didn't have a concrete plan to leave the building yet, but this new reality forced him to rethink his options. He wanted to go search for his parents, but his situation was far more complicated than Jake's. His parents lived in another city, which meant he'd need much more than determination: he'd need weapons, enough supplies, a safe place to return to, and, most importantly, a vehicle to make the trip.
He clenched his teeth and slammed his palm against the railing. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath. The more he thought about it, the harder it seemed to achieve his goal in time. The odds weren't in his favor. And yet, he couldn't give up. Not now—not when he was just starting to build a foundation for survival.
"One way or another, I'll find them. No matter what it takes," he thought, his gaze locking onto the horde that continued to gather under the flickering light of the flames.
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He returned inside the apartment and glanced at the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to 6:35 a.m., but for Nathan, the day had started long ago. Although it was still early, any trace of sleep had completely abandoned him. He had no intention of going back to bed.
With a sigh, he decided to make use of the extra time. He walked to the bathroom with the intent of splashing cold water on his face to wake up, but when he turned the faucet, nothing came out.
His heart sank, and a chill ran down his spine. No, no, no... he thought as he twisted the faucet handle several times, hoping it was just a temporary issue. When nothing happened, he headed to the light switch and flipped it on. Nothing.
The water and electricity were gone.
Nathan felt a wave of anxiety begin to creep over him. He knew the building didn't have its own generator, and the pump that supplied water relied on the government's power grid. This didn't just complicate his situation—it made it critical.
"Think, think…" he muttered to himself, forcing his mind to search for solutions. He couldn't afford to freeze up now.
Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen and opened the fridge. The food he had cooked earlier was still there, neatly stored in the containers he had prepared, but with the electricity gone, he knew it wouldn't take long for it to spoil. With a mix of hope and desperation, he opened the freezer. To his relief, he found several ice cubes that hadn't melted yet.
Wasting no time, he cleared out the bottom compartment of the fridge meant for vegetables and began reorganizing the salvageable food. He dumped the ice over the containers, hoping it would buy him at least a few more hours before the perishable items became unusable. Before closing the fridge door, he pulled out one of the containers and set it aside to eat later.
He couldn't afford to waste anything.
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Once he finished organizing the fridge, Nathan moved on to search through the kitchen drawers. He rummaged through utensils and other items until he found what he was looking for: several candles. He grabbed them, along with a lighter, and headed to the living room. There, he placed the candles strategically, spreading them around the space to ensure the area would be well-lit. He saved a few unused ones for later, just in case.
With the candles lit and the apartment bathed in a soft, warm glow, Nathan sank into a chair. The silence around him, broken only by the faint crackle of the candles and his own thoughts, was a stark reminder of how lonely this new world had become. In front of him sat the container of food he had set aside earlier. He wasn't hungry, but he knew he had to eat.
With each bite, his mind raced. Time was no longer on his side. Although his original plan had been to move cautiously and step by step, that was a luxury he could no longer afford. Without electricity, water, or time to waste, his priorities had shifted. Now, he had to start moving, to execute his ideas more quickly if he wanted to survive.
Clenching his teeth as he finished his meal, he muttered to himself:
"It's time to speed up the plans."
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The materials were ready: clothing, books, notebooks scattered across the floor, duct tape, and a few other tools he had managed to gather. Nathan stared at them for a few seconds, mentally mapping out his next steps.
He recalled a method he had seen in a movie: the protagonist used magazines taped to his arms as protection against bites. Nathan planned to follow the same principle but with a more elaborate approach.
He started with a jacket. Carefully, he placed thin books over the fabric and wrapped them with duct tape, making sure there were no gaps between them. He took his time, double-checking each detail to ensure the books were firmly secured without compromising his mobility. Then he moved on to his pants, applying the same method, reinforcing the most vulnerable areas as much as he could.
Once finished, he covered the reinforced clothing with another layer of thick fabric. More protection meant a higher chance of avoiding a bite.
"If these things get to me, at least make them work for it," he muttered to himself.
With the first part of his plan complete, he moved on to the weapons. Grabbing the bat he had prepared earlier, he began hammering several nails into it at random angles, ensuring their sharp tips jutted out. Each strike of the hammer echoed through the empty apartment, amplifying the tension in the air. This weapon wouldn't just be deadly against zombies; it would also serve as a deterrent against any human foolish enough to stand in his way.
Next, he picked up the broomstick. Using one of his knives, he began sharpening one end until it resembled a crude spear.
"Distance is key," he thought as he worked with precision. He repeated the same process with the mop handle, ensuring both were ready for combat.
When all his tools were complete, Nathan donned his reinforced clothing. He secured two knives to his belt as secondary weapons and chose the broomstick spear as his primary weapon. Every movement was deliberate, but his hands were sweating inside the gloves he was wearing. Anxiety was blooming in his chest, and his nerves threatened to overwhelm him.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus.
"There's no turning back," he reminded himself. If he didn't do this, he would never move forward.
With one last look around the apartment, he moved the sofas and chairs blocking the door, creating just enough space for him to slip through. Each step toward the outside felt like crossing an invisible line between safety and the unknown.
Nathan paused for a moment, gripping the spear tightly as he closed his eyes. He let out a deep sigh and opened them again, now filled with determination.
"I don't know what I'll find out there, but it doesn't matter. I have a goal, and I'll do whatever it takes to reach it."
With that resolution etched into his mind, he opened the door and stepped out of the apartment, ready to face the dangers of this new and unforgiving world.