Phoenix's response to the sudden chaos was swift and decisive. Roused from his sleep by the explosion, he quickly armed himself with a pistol, its safety clicked off, and hurried to check the surveillance. The interior of his home, including Lydia's room where she was visibly shaken and seeking refuge under her quilt, appeared secure. Relieved that the immediate threat was within the house, he turned his attention to the external cameras.
Through the surveillance, Phoenix caught sight of the intruders, a dozen individuals armed with makeshift weapons like shovels, steel bars, and axes. Among these, a familiar red triple wooden board stood out, reminding him of the construction workers from a nearby site. He realized these were not residents of their building but outsiders, likely from the construction site in the adjacent 26# building. Their presence and aggressive approach confirmed Phoenix's suspicion that news of his well-stocked home had spread.
Outside, the leader of the group and his men were bewildered to find the metal door intact despite the explosion. They blamed Old Donkey, the team's makeshift blaster, whose rudimentary skills had failed to breach Phoenix's door. Though loud, the explosives lacked the necessary power to cause significant damage, serving more as a scare tactic than a destructive force.
Inside, Phoenix, relieved to see his home unscathed, felt a surge of anger. Recognizing the grave threat they posed, he resolved to take drastic action. Peering through a small opening in the door, he hurled a flask filled with an incendiary mixture, igniting a fierce blaze in the corridor. Unsatisfied, he unleashed several bottles of white phosphorus dissolved in sulfur dioxide, creating a hellish inferno.
The white phosphorus, burning at over 1,000 degrees Celsius, was merciless. The flames clung to the intruders, their down jackets fueling the fire. Screams of agony filled the air, a harrowing reminder of the brutality of their new world. In a matter of seconds, the hallway transformed into a living nightmare.
Unyielding, Phoenix then turned to his pistol, discharging round after round into the chaos outside. His relentless gunfire took down several more attackers, and the few who survived fled in terror. After ensuring the threat was neutralized, he closed the shooting hole and activated the air filtration system to protect his home from the smoke.
Exhausting his ammunition, Phoenix pondered the necessity of acquiring more robust weaponry. The recent attack was a stark reminder of the dangers they faced. Anyone who survived this far into the apocalypse was likely to be ruthless and resourceful. Phoenix knew he had to be prepared for even deadlier threats in the future.
Having secured the immediate area, Phoenix went to comfort Lydia, who was still sheltering in her room. Her attempt to downplay her fear with a quip about earthquakes brought a brief moment of levity to the tense situation. As Phoenix settled beside her, he observed the changes Lydia had brought into the once stark and functional space. Her presence had added warmth and a touch of femininity, transforming it into a place that felt more like a home.
Phoenix acknowledged the value of having Lydia by his side. In these end times, she had become more than just a companion; she was a source of comfort and normalcy in a world gone mad. Her meticulous care of their shared space, her ability to create a semblance of domesticity amidst chaos, was something he had come to appreciate deeply.
As they sat together, recovering from the night's events, Phoenix couldn't help but think that in another life, Lydia would have been highly sought after, commanding a significant dowry. But in their current reality, they relied on each other for survival, their bond forged not by tradition or societal norms but by the shared experience of enduring a world turned upside down.