The entire stretch of stairs from the tenth floor, where Nathan's apartment was, down to the ninth remained just as silent and undisturbed as the last time he had descended. There were no signs of zombies or people—only the faint echo of his own footsteps reverberating through the empty space.
The absence of trouble in the stairwell made his descent easier, and within minutes, he reached the entrance to the ninth-floor hallway. However, the moment he opened the door, his muscles tensed, and his senses went into high alert. This was where a horde of zombies had poured out the last time. He had learned not to let his guard down.
He moved forward cautiously, his breathing controlled, his hands gripping the spiked bat tightly. Every step seemed to amplify the sound of his heartbeat. His gaze swept toward the apartments with open doors—they were an obvious risk. As he approached the first one, a subtle yet unsettling noise caught his attention.
The closed doors of the other apartments trembled slightly, as if something inside was pushing against them.
"Probably zombies," Nathan murmured, speaking more to himself than anyone else.
Refocusing, he turned his attention back to the first open apartment in front of him. He couldn't afford to let his guard down now.
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He stepped in slowly, one foot in front of the other, making sure not to make a sound. His eyes scanned every corner—the living room, the bedrooms, the bathrooms, and the kitchen. Everything was empty. No zombies, no people. Only scattered objects littering the floor and dried bloodstains smeared across the walls and furniture. The scene was bleak, as if time had frozen in the middle of the chaos.
He took a deep breath, relieved that he hadn't found any immediate threats, though the eerie atmosphere still sent a chill down his spine. Cautiously, he stepped out of the apartment and moved to the next one, its door also left open. He repeated the process. The same unsettling sight greeted him—disorder, blood, and an oppressive silence.
"Alright, that just leaves two more," he muttered under his breath, his gaze locking onto the trembling doors. The persistent thudding from inside those apartments confirmed what he already suspected—something was in there.
Nathan knew he couldn't just ignore it. If he left those zombies trapped, there was always a risk that they would eventually break free and catch him off guard. He wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating them.
Stopping in front of one of the doors, he carefully tested the handle. Locked. Just as expected.
"Of course..." he murmured, frustration creeping into his voice.
Now, he had two choices—wait for the zombies to break through on their own or take the initiative and force his way in.
He needed to decide quickly. In this world, hesitation could be just as deadly as the undead themselves.
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Nathan returned to the apartments he had already cleared, searching for something that could help him break down the doors. If he wanted full control of the building, he needed to deal with the trapped zombies, and he couldn't afford to waste any more time.
He checked every corner, opening drawers, rummaging through closets, and moving furniture. After several minutes of fruitless searching, his persistence paid off. In the second apartment, he found a sledgehammer hidden inside a tool cabinet.
"Perfect," he murmured, gripping it firmly. It was heavy, but he knew it would get the job done.
Before starting, Nathan took another precaution. He headed to the refrigerator in the same apartment, emptied it out, and slowly dragged it toward the entrance to the stairwell. His goal was clear—to create an improvised barricade that would block any intruders, whether zombies or humans.
"Alright, this should do," he said, exhaling deeply as he inspected his work. The heavy fridge completely blocked access to the ninth-floor hallway. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would buy him enough time to react if something went wrong.
With the blockade secured, he retrieved the sledgehammer, gripping it with both hands as he approached the first locked door. Taking a deep breath, he tensed his muscles and swung with all his strength. The impact echoed down the hallway, a resounding signal that the fight was about to begin.
One after another, the blows landed hard. With each strike, the zombies on the other side grew more agitated—their groans and frantic pounding against the wood intensifying. Sweat began to drip down Nathan's forehead, but he ignored it and kept going.
After several heavy swings, the wood finally started to give. A crack formed in the center, spurring him to keep pushing. Then, with one particularly forceful strike, the sledgehammer broke through, smashing a large hole in the door. The unexpected movement caused the sledgehammer to drive even further in, striking a zombie directly in the head. The sickening crunch of bone shattering was unmistakable, and the body collapsed to the floor.
Nathan yanked the sledgehammer free in a swift motion, then peeked through the hole he had just made. At least four zombies stumbled around inside, bumping into each other in their mindless attempts to reach him. The exact number was unclear, but he knew the fight wouldn't be easy.
His eyes flicked to the door handle. If I can break that off, they'll come out, and I can take them down here, he thought. Bracing himself, he aimed his next strikes directly at the handle, putting all his strength into each swing.
Finally, after several powerful hits, the handle snapped, and with one last loud crack, the door burst open. Nathan took a step back, dropping the sledgehammer. There was no time for hesitation. He quickly grabbed his reinforced baseball bat and got into position, ready for the inevitable fight.
"Come on, you bastards," he muttered, his eyes burning with determination.
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As soon as the door gave way, the zombies began to spill out. Nathan didn't hesitate for even a second—he met the first one with a direct blow to the head, dropping it instantly. He yanked the bat back and, before the next one could get too close, delivered another crushing strike. This time, he was extra careful when pulling the bat free, making sure the nails didn't get stuck in the corpse's skull.
Without realizing it, his mind slipped into an almost automatic state. Precise movements, calculated strikes. He cut down zombie after zombie with a cold efficiency he barely recognized in himself. He wasn't thinking about how many were left or how much danger he was in. There was only one goal: eliminate every single one of them.
Finally, after one last swing, silence returned to the hallway. Nathan took a deep breath, his heart still pounding, and stepped into the apartment to make sure no zombies were left hiding. He checked every corner—the living room, the bedrooms, the bathroom, and the kitchen—until he was certain he was alone.
Exhaustion started to weigh on him, and his stomach growled, reminding him that he'd been pushing himself for hours without eating. He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and managed to find some food that was still edible. Sitting in one of the less bloodstained chairs, he ate in silence, letting his muscles rest while his mind ran through everything he still had left to do.
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A few minutes later, he got back to work. He repeated the same process as before: grabbing the sledgehammer and striking the door of the next apartment. The loud impacts echoed down the hallway until, after several attempts, a sharp crack signaled that the door had finally given way.
He immediately dropped the sledgehammer and gripped his bat, bracing himself for whatever zombies might come through. This time, to his relief, there were only three. He dispatched them quickly and efficiently, using the movements he had already perfected. The last one collapsed with a dull thud, and once again, silence settled over the hallway.
Nathan stepped inside and conducted a thorough search. Just like the previous apartment, he found no more threats. With everything cleared, he allowed himself a brief moment of rest, sitting in the only clean spot on the couch. He closed his eyes for a second, letting his body process the accumulated exhaustion.
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As he caught his breath, he mentally reviewed his next steps. The ninth floor was secure, but there was still plenty of work ahead. He would need to gather anything useful from these apartments and bring it back to his own refuge. It would be a tiring, repetitive task, but a necessary one.
Additionally, now that he had the sledgehammer, he could take advantage of it to break into the locked apartments on the tenth floor and make sure everything up there was clear as well.
"There's still so much to do," he muttered to himself, gripping the bat tightly as he pushed himself to his feet.
He knew it would be tedious, but he also knew it would be worth it. If he wanted to survive in this new world, he had to make sure his base was as secure and efficient as possible. Without wasting another second, he stepped back into the hallway, determined to keep going.