Day: 4 - of the ongoing apocalypse.
Luke stayed in his apartment for the next few days, cautiously managing his supplies and keeping a low profile. The situation outside remained dire, with the undead still swarming the streets and the sounds of chaos occasionally echoing through the building.
He felt isolated, but he wasn't completely alone. Using a makeshift sign he displayed in his window, he managed to establish a rudimentary form of communication with other survivors in nearby apartments.
Sign in Window: "SAFE HERE. NEED INFO."
Over the next few days, Luke exchanged messages with other survivors by writing on pieces of paper and holding them up to their windows. It was slow and frustrating, but it provided a sense of connection and some critical information.
One evening, Luke spotted a message in a window across the street. It was hastily scrawled but legible.
Message from Kid Neighbor: "BROADCAST TOWER EXPLODED. MILITARY INTERVENTION."
The words made Luke's heart sink. He scribbled his own message in response, hoping for more details.
Luke's Message: "WHAT HAPPENED? MORE INFO?"
A few hours later, as the sun set and the city grew eerily quiet, Luke saw another message appear.
Kid Neighbor's Message: "OUTBREAK STARTED. MILITARY BLEW UP TOWER TO STOP SIGNAL. INTERNET DOWN TOO."
Luke sat back, processing the new information. The broadcast tower explosion explained the lack of communication and the total chaos that had enveloped the city.
The military's drastic action to stop the signal was particularly chilling. What had prompted such a severe response? It was clear that the outbreak had started quickly and violently, leaving everyone scrambling for survival.
With this new context, Luke felt the weight of his isolation even more. He spent the next few days trying to piece together the timeline and the scope of the disaster.
He imagined the tower, a crucial piece of infrastructure, engulfed in flames, and the military's intervention to contain whatever information or signal had been deemed dangerous.
Each night, he would check the windows for more messages, hoping to learn more about the situation or to find out if there were any coordinated efforts for rescue or evacuation. The sporadic communication kept his hope alive, even as the days dragged on and his supplies dwindled.
Luke knew he had to stay vigilant and resourceful. He spent his days carefully rationing his food and water, checking his barricades, and making plans for when he would eventually have to leave the relative safety of his apartment.
Despite the growing sense of dread, the connection with other survivors, however tenuous, provided a glimmer of hope. He wasn't completely alone, and that thought gave him the strength to keep going.
...
Luke had been surviving on perishable goods and dry snacks for days, but tonight he decided to make something special with the materials he had. With a sigh, he gathered his limited ingredients and set out to cook a proper meal—a taste of home to lift his spirits.
He found some rice, garlic, onions, soy sauce, and a can of corned beef. He decided to make a simple but comforting dish: "Corned Beef Sinangag" (corned beef fried rice). It was a Filipino favorite, and he hoped it would provide some much-needed comfort.
He set up his small portable stove and began to cook. The familiar process brought a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos.
He started by cooking the rice. The grains slowly absorbed the water, becoming fluffy and fragrant. The smell alone brought back memories of family dinners and simpler times.
In a pan, he heated a bit of oil and added minced garlic and chopped onions. The sizzling sound and the aroma of the garlic browning in the oil filled the small apartment, making his mouth water.
Once the garlic and onions were golden and fragrant, he added the corned beef, breaking it up with a spoon. It cooked quickly, releasing its savory scent.
Finally, he added the cooked rice to the pan, mixing it thoroughly with the corned beef, garlic, and onions. He seasoned it with a splash of soy sauce, giving the dish a rich, umami flavor.
Luke plated the dish carefully, the mound of corned beef sinangag steaming and golden. He took a seat at his small dining table, the familiar sight of the dish bringing a lump to his throat.
As he took his first bite, the flavors exploded in his mouth. The savory corned beef, the aromatic garlic and onions, and the perfectly cooked rice—it was like a hug from home. The taste was so familiar, so comforting, that tears welled up in his eyes. He hadn't realized just how much he missed real food, the kind that brought warmth and comfort.
He continued to eat, each bite a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. The tears flowed freely now, silently streaming down his cheeks as he chewed. The combination of the delicious meal and the overwhelming emotions of the past few days broke something inside him, and he let himself cry for the first time since the outbreak started.
The apartment was silent except for the sounds of his quiet sobs and the clinking of his spoon against the plate. The simple act of eating a home-cooked meal brought a moment of peace and a connection to a world that felt like it had been lost forever.
After he finished, Luke sat back, feeling a little lighter. The food had not only filled his stomach but had also given him a small but significant boost of hope. He knew the road ahead would be tough, but for now, he allowed himself to savor this small victory.
...
Day: 5 - of the ongoing apocalypse.
Another day passed in the eerie silence of Luke's apartment. He continued his daily routine of checking the barricades, rationing his food, and scanning the surroundings for any signs of change.
The sporadic communication with other survivors had become a lifeline, offering snippets of information and a sense of community in the midst of chaos.
As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the city, Luke noticed a familiar signal from across the street. It was the kid with the hunting gun, the one he had been exchanging messages with. The boy looked more anxious than usual, his eyes darting nervously as he held up a sign.
Sign from Kid: "LOW ON FOOD."
Luke felt a surge of panic. The thought of the kid, his only friend in this apocalypse, starving to death was unbearable. He quickly scribbled a message in response.
Luke's Message: "HOW BAD? WHAT DO YOU NEED?"
The kid hesitated for a moment before holding up another sign.
Sign from Kid: "VERY BAD. ANYTHING HELPS."
Luke's heart raced as he processed the gravity of the situation. He couldn't let the kid go hungry. He scribbled another message.
Luke's Message: "I'LL FIND SOMETHING. STAY SAFE."
He stepped back from the window, his mind racing. He had to act quickly. He grabbed a pen and paper and started making a list of what he could spare. His supplies were already dwindling, but he couldn't let the kid suffer. He checked his pantry and cupboards, gathering what he could.
Luke's Thoughts: "Okay, I've got some rice, canned goods, maybe some of the dried fruits. He needs protein... maybe the canned beans and corned beef."
He gathered the items and placed them in a small bag, making sure to include a couple of bottles of water. As he packed, he couldn't shake the fear gnawing at him. This was risky. Any movement outside his apartment could attract the undead.
Luke scribbled a quick note to accompany the food.
Note to Kid: "Stay strong. We'll get through this together. - Luke"
Just as he was about to open his door and try to risk it all, a dumb move for sure, he heard a series of gunshots echoing through the street. Luke's heart skipped a beat, and he rushed to the window. His eyes widened in horror as he saw the kid sprinting down the street, a bag slung over his shoulder, firing his hunting gun at the pursuing zombies.
Luke: "What the hell is he doing?!"
The kid's face was a mask of fear and determination. He zigzagged through the street, using the setting sun and his agile movements to evade the grasping hands of the undead. Luke's eyes followed his every move, panic rising in his chest.
Meanwhile, inside his apartment, Luke anxiously watched the fading daylight. The emergency ladder, to which he remembers, was located at the end of the hallway, connected to a window that had been blocked off to prevent access from outside. It was a last resort escape route, rarely used due to its precarious nature.
Luke to himself: "Come on, kid. You can do this.''
He gripped the flashlight tighter, ready to guide the kid if he managed to reach the ladder. The hallway outside remained eerily quiet, save for the distant moans of the undead echoing through the building.
Luke strained his ears, hoping to catch any sound of the kid's approach. He couldn't see the ladder from his vantage point, but he knew the layout well enough to visualize the kid's progress. Each passing second felt like an eternity, his nerves stretched taut with anticipation.
Suddenly, a faint sound of scuffling reached Luke's ears. He held his breath, turning towards the hallway. There, he heard the barley audible sounds of the emergency ladder and the kid's hard kick's as he scrambled upwards.
Luke (whispering): "That's it, kid. Keep going."
Luke's eyes darted around the dimly lit hallway as he peeped through the eye hole, his breath held in anticipation. The kid was making his way down the hallway, his steps quick and light despite the obvious terror in his eyes. Luke's apartment was at the far end, the closest refuge in the immediate vicinity.
Luke (whispering to himself): "Just a bit more... you're almost here..."
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from downstairs, diverting the attention of some zombies who had been lurking near the emergency hatch. They turned towards the noise, shambling away in search of the source.
Luke (thought): 'Thank God for small miracles...'
Luke quickly but silently removed the barricade from his door. He grabbed a metal bar, wrapping his arms with cloth as a makeshift shield, steeling himself for what was to come. He counted down from ten, his heart pounding in his chest.
Luke's heart raced as he heard the growls drawing nearer from the hallway outside his apartment. Without hesitation, he removed the heavy cabinet barricading the door and grabbed his makeshift weapon—a sturdy metal bar wrapped in cloth for a better grip. The emergency lights flickered dimly overhead, casting long shadows that danced with each movement.
As Luke stepped into the hallway, his senses sharpened, but his hands trembled with a mix of fear and determination. He scanned the dimly lit corridor, the tension coiling in his muscles.
It didn't take long before he heard the first shuffling footsteps approaching from the stairwell. Three zombies emerged into view, their grotesque forms illuminated in eerie half-light.
The first zombie lurched forward, its arms outstretched. Luke took a shaky step back, trying to steady his nerves. With a gulp, he swung his metal bar with uncertain precision, aiming for the creature's head. The impact was less than perfect, striking the zombie's shoulder instead. It let out a guttural moan but continued to advance.
Panicking slightly, Luke adjusted his grip on the bar and swung again, this time aiming more carefully. The bar connected with the side of the zombie's head, sending it staggering sideways with a sickening crunch. Luke's heart raced as he realized he had struck true.
But there was no time to celebrate. The other two zombies closed in, driven by their insatiable hunger. Luke pivoted, his movements clumsy but desperate. He parried a grasping hand with his wrapped arm guard, the cloth absorbing the impact as he countered with another swing of his bar.
The second zombie lunged with surprising speed, its decayed face twisted in a rictus of hunger. Luke stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws. With a shaky breath, he gathered his resolve and swung again, aiming for its knee. The bar struck true this time, causing the zombie to collapse awkwardly to the ground, its gnashing teeth missing Luke by inches.
Meanwhile, the third zombie closed in from the side, its ragged clothes fluttering with each uneven step. Luke's hands shook as he adjusted his stance, keeping both threats in view. He knew he couldn't afford to be cornered. His breath came in shallow bursts, his focus narrowing to the immediate threat before him.
Just as the third zombie lunged, Luke swung his bar in a wide, unsteady arc, aiming for its midsection. The impact knocked the creature off balance, buying him a precious moment to reassess the situation. The hallway seemed to shrink around them, the dim lights flickering as if to mirror the uncertainty of their fight.
Beside him, a gunshot rang out—a sharp crack that shattered the stale air. Luke turned to see the kid, who had arrived just in time, holding a hunting gun steady in his grip. The bullet found its mark, striking the zombie grappling with Luke squarely in the head. The creature collapsed in a heap, its threat extinguished in an instant.
Luke glanced at the kid, their eyes meeting briefly in a shared moment of acknowledgment. They were a team now, their actions synchronized against the relentless tide of the undead. With a nod of gratitude, Luke turned his attention back to the remaining zombie.
The creature, sensing its isolation, lunged forward with renewed ferocity. Luke's muscles tensed as he braced for impact. He sidestepped the attack, using his bar to deflect the zombie's grasping hands. With a shaky, but decisive motion, he aimed another strike at its head, the bar connecting with a sickening thud.
The zombie staggered, its movements becoming increasingly erratic. Luke seized the opportunity, delivering a final, clumsy blow that sent the creature crashing into the hallway wall. It slumped to the ground, unmoving and finally still.
As the echoes of their battle faded, Luke and the kid took a moment to catch their breath. The hallway was littered with motionless bodies, the aftermath of their hard-fought victory. Sweat mingled with the grime on Luke's brow, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.
Yet, in the silence that followed, they knew their struggle for survival in this apocalyptic world was far from over. The dim lights continued to flicker overhead, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly down the corridor. But for now, they had prevailed—a testament to their resilience and determination to survive against all odds.
As Luke and the kid caught their breath amidst the aftermath of their intense battle, a sudden realization hit them—they weren't alone. The distant echoes of growls and shuffling footsteps reverberated down the hallway, signaling the approach of more undead. Without a word, they exchanged a glance filled with urgency and understanding.
"We need to go," Luke said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion but resolute.
Together, they retreated back into Luke's apartment, slamming the door shut behind them and hastily re-securing the barricade. The adrenaline that had fueled their fight now surged through them, heightening their senses and sharpening their focus.
Inside the dimly lit apartment, they took stock of their situation. Luke checked his remaining supplies, while the kid reloaded his gun with practiced efficiency. Their brief victory felt fleeting against the relentless tide of the undead outside.
"We can't stay here," the kid muttered, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of weakness in their defenses.
Luke nodded grimly, his mind racing with thoughts of their next move. Outside, the growls grew louder, echoing through the building like a sinister chorus. The flickering emergency lights cast eerie shadows on the walls, a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond their door.
"We'll have to find another way out," Luke said, his voice tinged with determination. "There has to be a way to get through this."
"If we survive long enough that is..." The kid silently muttered to himself, less hopeful for the future.
And as they waited, the future remained uncertain, their fate hanging in the balance as they prepared to confront whatever came next in this relentless apocalypse.
...
Word count: 2739