Mikhail was rudely awakened by a deafening explosion that sent his belongings shaking violently. His heart raced as he jumped out of bed, the tremors subsiding within seconds.
"Explosion!" he exclaimed to himself, rushing to the window. He observed buildings collapsing, and it appeared to be an airstrike, at least that's what he deduced from the chaos below.
But the tumultuous event was short-lived, ending within a few minutes. Mikhail remained in the dark; his phone's signal was nonexistent, and it had been two days since he'd heard from anyone. Gunshots, panicked screams, explosions, and eerie howls continued to punctuate the silence outside.
He dragged his weary body to the kitchen and tried to fill his stomach, but the memory of what he had done just hours ago made him nauseous. Despite the urge to vomit, he soldiered on with his meal.
Hours turned into days, and the situation outside grew calmer, though it was an unsettling calm. The sun remained obscured by the ever-present clouds in the sky. Four days had passed, and Mikhail realized he hadn't experienced the nightmarish scenarios reported on the radio. The bad news was the government seemed unable to provide assistance.
As darkness fell, Mikhail heard a sudden commotion outside and cautiously peeked through the curtains. It was coming from the neighboring building, and the silence was shattered by a gunshot. Down on the street, he saw dozens of shadowy figures converging on the source of the gunshot.
Mikhail withdrew silently from the window, clutching a makeshift spear. He faced a dilemma: stay and trust others to save him, or venture out and trust himself. The airborne virus posed a constant threat, even with a gas mask. His recent observations convinced him that smart zombies would eventually discover him, and his dwindling food supplies added urgency to his decision.
After a few minutes of contemplation, he resolved to venture outside. His plan was to scout this floor and the rooftop, where he hoped to gain a vantage point for a safe escape plan. If things deteriorated, he'd rather take his own life than be devoured by the zombies. Better to die trying than to do nothing.
In his bedroom, Mikhail donned his German soldier cosplay, complete with a coat for added protection. He moved the refrigerator blocking his path and cautiously unlocked the door. A foul stench of rotting corpses assaulted his senses, even through the gas mask. He doubted its effectiveness but soldiered on. He checked each room for supplies and useful weapons, finding medicine and food but no weapons.
Most rooms were locked, and below the stairs, he glimpsed dozens of decaying corpses. He remembered a woman who had gone upstairs to the rooftop, and he silently ascended the stairs. He encountered a corpse with flesh stripped to the bone and handprints on the walls, but he continued. At the top of the stairs, he tried to open the door but found it locked. Peering through the windowpane, he saw a garden house that had belonged to a resident who enjoyed gardening.
Mikhail didn't want to create noise by forcing the door open, so he began to retreat. Just then, a woman appeared. She had blond hair, ocean-like eyes, fair skin, and was almost his height. She wore a black leather jacket over a white shirt and jeans, with a respirator mask like his own.
Suspicion filled her eyes as she looked at Mikhail through the window pane. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.
Mikhail, still wearing his gas mask, attempted an awkward smile and said, "Let's work together."
She scrutinized him from head to toe, her eyes revealing hesitation. Mikhail noticed her uncertainty and began to explain what he'd observed over the past few days. He shared his hypothesis that staying in the building was no longer safe, and sooner or later, they would face a dire situation.
Sighing, she eventually agreed to take him to the rooftop, not entirely because of his hypothesis but because of the resources he carried. Once his bag was on the rooftop, he divided its contents with her.
"Is it safe on the lower floors now?" she asked.
Mikhail replied, "I'm not sure. I only sneaked around on my floor, just below this rooftop, and I saw dozens of corpses on the stairs. I didn't dare to use the elevator."
"What should we do now?" she asked, her suspicion lingering in her gaze.
"My plan is to wait for help, but if things go bad, we must be ready," Mikhail explained. "I want to clear the building, gather supplies and weapons, and possibly use the sewer to escape the city."
"Your plan is risky," she commented.
Mikhail nodded. "I know it is, but it's the only option we have. Going outside is dangerous, even if we manage to find a vehicle, it might be blocked."
Mikhail and the woman exchanged a long, contemplative look, the weight of their uncertain future hanging in the air.
"By the way," Mikhail said, attempting to break the silence, "My name is Mikhail Reyes, 21 years old, and single."
Her eyes betrayed a sense of regret as she introduced herself. "Rose."
She quickly shifted back to seriousness and asked, "What do you think about the virus? Do you have any information about it?"
Mikhail could only shake his head, his own knowledge as limited as hers.