There were still some apartments in the building that I hadn't checked, but I didn't have time to look at all of them. However, one apartment stuck in my mind. I heard noises coming from there—it could have been a group of innocent survivors or looters. But looters usually don't stay in one place for long; they pillage, kill, and leave. Taking the risk, I knocked on the door.
A voice came from inside:
"Who are you? What do you want?"
"Sir, I've been wandering for days, looking for a safe place."
The resident of the apartment replied:
"Of all places, you chose here? Move along, don't look for trouble."
"I'm not planning to stay long. If you could spare some food and water, I'll be on my way."
"We barely have enough for ourselves. We can't share anything with you."
Then I heard a groaning sound from inside—someone was either wounded or sick.
"Do you have an injured person?"
"None of your business, man. Just move along, don't make this harder."
"I can help if you let me. I have a first aid kit."
He hesitated but eventually let me in. Inside, there was a woman and a child. The child was wounded—his leg was injured.
"What happened?"
"We got caught while running from looters."
"Bastards!"
The wound was a cut, not too infected yet, but it was deep. I cleaned the wound, roughly stitched it up, and bandaged it. I also gave them some extra antibiotics I had.
The man, who had been angry at me before, now looked ashamed.
"Sorry, man. You just can't trust anyone these days."
"I understand. It's a tough time for everyone. I should get going now."
"I'm coming with you."
"Sir, your family needs you here."
"There's something I need to tell you."
"What is it?"
"I know a place. It's one of the looters' hideouts. There's ammo there. If we go together, we can grab some weapons and supplies."
"And how exactly do we get in?"
"I have an idea. I have enough supplies to make a few Molotov cocktails. I can use them as a distraction while you sneak in and grab some rifles for both of us."
"How do you know how to make Molotov cocktails?"
"It's not exactly rocket science."
"How many of them are there?"
"Not many, about five."
I decided to go along with this crazy guy's plan. But when we got there, it wasn't five—it was ten.
"You said five. Where did the other five come from?"
"You see that car over there?"
"Yeah?"
"We wait for it to leave."
"Alright."
"When it gets dark, we strike."
"Why at night?"
"Because that car is leaving at night. It'll make things easier."
"Got it… How do you know there are five inside?"
"There are three guards outside. Inside, one person is monitoring communications, and another one goes in and out of the ammo room."
"How do you know all this?"
"Man, you sure ask a lot of questions!"
"Let's talk about this later, alright? Focus on the job."
Night fell, and we moved into position. I kept calling him "the resident" in my head because I had forgotten to ask his name.
"My name is Rauf. What's yours?"
"Ömer."
"Nice to meet you, brother. Now, let's do this!"
Rauf prepared the Molotovs while I moved in quietly. As I got closer, he threw one, setting the place on fire. The guards panicked, and two of them ran outside, sounding the alarm. Then the second Molotov hit.
I had to hurry.
The doors were open, and I carefully slipped inside. I quickly grabbed two rifles and some ammo. Just as I was about to leave, I heard a noise. I immediately hid. A looter entered a room and sounded the alarm.
I was frozen in place, trying not to make a sound. My heartbeat was racing. I was sweating from the panic.
When the man finally left, I took a deep breath and slowly made my way out. I moved carefully at first, then broke into a run. They spotted me. Rauf started running too.
Bullets rained down on us.
I got hit in the left arm.
Rauf shouted, "Why are we running? We have guns now!"
"And what happens when we run out of ammo?"
"Good point."
"Besides, it's just the two of us. They're an army."
"We'll form a group and hit them properly later."
"Agreed."
We found an empty container and hid inside. Once the coast was clear, we'd return to the apartment.
I just hoped they weren't tracking us.
By morning, we set out. The streets were silent—no gunfire, no vehicles, nothing.
We finally made it back.
But there was a problem—my wound.
The bullet was still inside, and the pain was getting worse. My fever was rising, and I was drenched in sweat. The infection was probably spreading, and the bleeding hadn't stopped.
I used my belt as a tourniquet to slow the bleeding. Then I cleaned the wound. The bullet hadn't gone too deep, so I managed to pull it out with a spoon.
Then, I cauterized the wound with a hot knife.
Rauf brought bandages and wrapped my arm. Then I took some antibiotics and painkillers before resting.
It was time to form a group.
Because dealing with these looters alone was no longer an option.