The Collapse
4th July 2026
"Rise first, for your enemies are not just flesh and bones," is something that has not left my mind since I woke up. The sunrays seemed frozen in their path to reach me, making the morning feel heavier and more difficult than ever.
Your mind always wakes up in times of excitement or fear, as though anticipating whether the day will be filled with joyful events or a series of difficult decisions. For me, it was the latter. Every decision I made today would either create a thread to hold onto or a scissor to cut the thread of life I clung to. Either way, everything I did was on me. There was no one to blame or curse; even God wouldn't hear the chaos raging around the world.
I took a deep, silent breath, trying to rearrange my mind from the mess of clustered thoughts.
"First things first. Let's start."
I glanced at the list I had created last night and resolved to tackle it step by step.
"Ok! First: food and water."
The most basic and, at the same time, the most crucial resource for survival. It didn't take me long to locate my destination.
"Food! Food! Ah yes, the cafeteria. That's it!"
The cafeteria was just around the corner of the corridor. But finding it wasn't the real challenge; the real challenge was reaching it.
"Should I just walk out the door?"
I stared at the door, knowing and feeling that it wouldn't do me any good. I needed to check how many of them were out there first.
"There shouldn't be many left," I thought, basing my assumption on the noises I had heard the previous night. The growls weren't from multiple sources but rather from a few stragglers.
I moved near the glass door to peek outside.
"That side seems clear."
The corridor leading to the shattered glass wall—a result of the previous horde—was empty.
"Let's check the other side," I muttered, shifting my focus to the area near the guardrail. Initially, it appeared empty, though I could only see a small part of it. For a brief moment, I felt relieved, but my gut told me otherwise.
A few seconds later, the sound of uneven footsteps reached my ears.
"Still there, huh?"
Two infected were wandering in circles around the guardrail. The area was large, so it took them about five minutes to complete a full lap. I calculated their timing, observing their movements for a few rounds.
With the sun now fully risen, everything became clearer. I stuck to the glass door like a magnet, trying every angle to check for more of them. Yet, only the two infected were visible. This wasn't what I had expected. It was better for me since there were fewer of them, but I knew deep down that others were likely lurking behind unseen walls and corners.
I was running out of time. Those few pieces of bread I had consumed last night had only given me a temporary boost. I needed more food and water. My mind went back to the cafeteria. I knew where it was and how close it was—just around the corner. I even imagined myself drinking water. But then my head started to spin, reminding me that my time was running out and my body was on the verge of shutting down.
"Let's get through the door first," I said to myself. Steeling every muscle in my body, I let out a deep breath to refocus. I approached the door, forgetting something crucial in my haste.
"Ok," I whispered, standing at the door, staring through the glass at the guardrail, calculating every second until the infected would pass. When the time came, I saw them walk away. I waited another full minute to ensure they wouldn't hear the door open.
Slowly, I reached for the doorknob, feeling the cold metal under my fingers as I gripped it tightly. Despite the evident danger outside, a strange mix of fear and excitement coursed through me.
"Fuck this," I muttered, turning the doorknob. A faint metallic creak made my heartbeat quicken.
"Snap!"
The metallic sound signaled that the door was unlocked. I exhaled through my mouth, steadying myself for what lay ahead. Gently, I pushed the door, but it didn't budge. Panic began to creep in. I tried again, increasing the force with each attempt, but the door remained stuck.
Time was running out. The infected were circling back. Desperation took over as I frantically tried to open the door. My breaths grew heavier. I alternated between glancing at the infected and the stubborn doorknob, aware that they were getting closer with each passing second.
Finally, with one last desperate push, I forced the doorknob with all my might.
"Snap!"
The knob broke off in my hand just as the infected's footsteps reached the door. I immediately pressed myself against the wall, closed my eyes, and prayed they hadn't heard me. For a few agonizing moments, there was silence. Then, I peeked through the glass door.
They were still there, standing motionless, their heads twitching in random directions. Fear stacked itself upon me, suffocating me with a cascade of thoughts. I sat there, frozen, praying they wouldn't notice me.
Minutes passed. When I looked again, the infected had moved on. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived as I realized I was still holding the broken doorknob. My heart sank.
"The door was already broken," I muttered, recalling the events of the outbreak's first day. Johan had died because of it. The memory crushed me.
In hopeless despair, I walked to the window, my mind churning with echoes of the past and the weight of the present. Gazing out at the broken world below, I was struck by the lifeless streets and the crumbling buildings, each one a monument to the chaos that had unfolded. The silence felt heavy, pressing against my ears as if the world itself were holding its breath.
I turned to sit in the empty corner of the room, my heart sinking further. As I rested my head against the wall, a memory of Johan's laughter surfaced, cutting through the gloom. My throat tightened, but I pushed the thought aside. This was no time to grieve—not when survival demanded every ounce of focus I could muster.
Then, something caught my eye. On the same floor as mine, a shattered section of glass revealed the cafeteria. Tables and counters were clearly visible, bathed in the dim light filtering through the smoke-filled air.
A spark ignited within me, faint but persistent. I opened the window fully and leaned outside, the gust of cold wind hitting my face like a slap. It was a cruel reminder of how far the world had fallen, yet it carried a strange clarity with it. The acrid stench of smoke and destruction invaded my senses, forcing me to confront the grim reality.
As I scanned the scene, my eyes locked on a scaffolding hanging precariously by the side of the building. It appeared to stretch close to the broken section of the cafeteria, dangling like a lifeline. For a moment, I hesitated, the idea of using it both thrilling and terrifying.
Without thinking, my mind began calculating the distance. Could I jump onto the scaffolding and reach the cafeteria? The thought seemed absurd, yet it clung to me. I shook my head, trying to dismiss the notion as impossible. Taking a few steps back, I looked at the broken doorknob in my hand, the useless piece of metal a stark symbol of my helplessness. My knees buckled, and I fell to the floor, tears welling up against my will.
"No. No. No!"
The words escaped me in a broken whisper, but somewhere in the depths of despair, a flame flickered. Mustered courage surged through me, raw and unpolished but undeniable. Without hesitation, I grabbed a laptop bag resting on a desk, emptied its contents, and slung it over my shoulder. I wasn't thinking about how I would do it—only that I had to.
"I will. I will," I repeated to myself like a mantra, each word a hammer striking against the walls of doubt.
Opening the window to its full size, I stepped onto the frame. The height had never scared me before, but as I looked down from the 32nd floor, the abyss seemed to call out, a gaping maw of uncertainty. My stomach churned, and the winds picked up, tugging at my resolve. For the first time, I hesitated, my grip faltering as my hand slipped slightly.
My heart skipped a beat, but I steadied myself. There was no turning back now.