My words trailed off as I met Hana's glare.
"If you fall, I'm not coming down."
...
Before doing anything, I started preparing what we'd actually need. The field pack came out first. Water, first-aid kit, torch, spare batteries, work gloves, utility cord, two empty shopping bags folded flat against the side. I added another bottle of water, put the pack on, immediately reconsidered the weight and took it back out. Eleven floors down a ladder was probably not the best time to rediscover that water was heavy.
The shovel went along the outside where I could reach it. I handed Hana my work bag, where she kept the second torch and one bottle of water. She wandered into the kitchen while I was checking everything and came back holding one of my knives.
"Put that back."
"Why?"
"Because if something gets close enough that I'll need a seventeen-year old to stab it, we're too far gone."
"Fuck you, alright."
"You know these zombies are fast, right?" As a demonstration, I lunged at her hand holding the knife. Hana froze and tried to take a step back, but I had already disarmed her.
Ah, I got cut. I showed her the small wound intentionally.
"And they're zombies, they don't die from small cuts."
"Y-You scared me, what the fuck. I... I'm not apologising."
I ran my hand through a bit of water and covered it with a plaster. Maybe I was a little too rash. She still didn't seem convinced, so I showed her some videos I'd saved online.
"Look. If there's zombies down there that we have to face, I have a shovel. Blunt weapons are better. If you really want, take a pole instead."
Hana, feeling the weight of the hanging pole that I had handed to her, immediately felt discouraged.
"...Well. You better protect me well."
I scoffed. Kids.
Giving her something sharp might make her feel safer, but there was a decent chance she'd hurt herself trying to use it.
The actual weapon remained inside my Inventory.
Standard Issue PZ400 × 1
Standard Issue PZ400 Ammunition × 120
Smoke Grenade SGZ10 × 4
I checked the numbers once while Hana was changing into a pair of shoes I'd lent her. One hundred and twenty rounds sounded like a lot until I remembered how badly people missed when they were scared. I'd seen enough videos from actual shootings to know that real life wasn't one of those games where every bullet politely travelled toward the centre of your screen.
Also, they draw too much sound. Recalling that shot taken a few days ago, made me frown.
Hopefully I wouldn't need it at all.
Hana returned in her own clothes that were now washed, and shoes she'd tightened until they stopped moving around her feet. She looked at the exposed maintenance shaft, then at me. "Ready?"
"No."
"...Okay."
I looked around my apartment of two years. Everything useful was already stuffed into my bag. I probably won't be coming back here anymore, ...had a feeling that told me so.
"You ready?" I returned.
"No."
"Good."
"How is that good?"
"It means you won't be dead weight at least... stay alert like that, we only have one life."
She didn't find that reassuring.
We stood there for another few seconds anyway.
Eventually Hana folded her arms. "You're going first."
"I know."
Another few seconds passed.
"Mister."
"I'm mentally preparing."
"You've been mentally preparing." She snapped back.
"I'm very thorough. Also shut up, you're making me lose focus."
...Here goes.
Her expression finally annoyed me enough to overcome my survival instincts. I turned around, lowered myself into the opening and found the first rung with my shoe.
The maintenance space was narrower than it had looked from the kitchen. Concrete pressed close on one side while the cylindrical exterior of the rubbish chute occupied most of the other. Pipes ran vertically through what little space remained, some warm when my arm brushed against them. The ladder itself was built directly into the wall, old metal rungs disappearing downward into darkness.
It stinks. Jesus.
I tested my weight on the first one, then the second. Nothing moved.
"Okay."
Hana's face appeared above me. "Okay what?"
"It's not shaky."
"That's it?"
"What else do you want?"
"Are there zombies down there?"
"Shine some more light down. My torchlight isn't strong enough."
The bottom was illuminated a little more. Doesn't seem to have anything moving about.
"Hana."
She started climbing down before I could respond.
I pulled the access panel mostly back into place behind us, leaving enough of a gap that we'd be able to find it again. Getting trapped outside my own apartment after surviving the zombies would have been embarrassing enough that I genuinely considered it a possible outcome.
The first few floors weren't terrible. We descended slowly, testing each rung before putting our full weight on it. My bag scraped against the wall whenever I shifted too far back, and after a while the smell stopped being something I actively noticed. Hana, however...
I kept the torch angled downward. Looking directly into the shaft made the distance feel considerably worse, so I stopped doing that around the ninth floor.
"Don't look down," I whispered.
There was a pause above me. "Why would you say that?"
"Because I just did."
"I wasn't going to."
"Then we're fine."
"Now I want to."
"Stop playing around."
"..."
For a while, the only sounds were our shoes on metal and the occasional dull noise travelling through the building. The whole thing felt strangely disconnected from the apocalypse outside. We could have been technicians crawling through somewhere we weren't supposed to be, except I was sweating through my shirt and privately calculating whether I'd be able to catch Hana if she slipped.
Probably not.
I didn't mention that.
Somewhere around the seventh floor, something slammed into the chute beside us.
The impact rang through the metal loudly enough that my entire body locked up. Hana stopped above me at the same time, a belated yelp left her mouth, but she covered it immediately. Her smartphone fell to the bottom. I saw her eyes filled with panic, but I quickly shook my head.
Another muffled scrape followed, then something began tumbling downward inside the chute before crashing far below.
For several seconds neither of us moved.
Hana finally whispered, "Was that—"
"Rubbish."
"You sure?"
"No."
Silence again.
The strange thing was that the possibility of it being rubbish actually made me feel better. Somebody above us might still be alive enough to clean their apartment and throw something away. For a few seconds I found myself wondering what kind of person was still taking the bins out during the zombie apocalypse, before remembering that leaving rotting food inside your home probably didn't become a better idea just because civilisation was collapsing.
I put a finger over my lips silently, and she slowly nodded.
We're getting close to ground level. From now on, only hand signals, like we agreed beforehand.
We continued. My hands started aching around the fifth floor. By the fourth I had to stop for half a minute and flex my fingers around the rung. Hana didn't complain, although her breathing had become noticeably heavier. I signalled if she needed a break. She gestured no, then remained exactly where she was for another minute before continuing.
I didn't point it out.
Near the second floor, faint voices came through one of the maintenance panels.
Both of us stopped.
They were too muffled to understand, but there were definitely people on the other side. At least two, maybe three. Someone spoke more loudly for a moment and another voice answered.
Hana leaned closer to the wall.
Residents? She gestured.
Could be.
Should we tell them we're here?
I looked at the panel.
A few days ago, that question probably would've taken longer to answer.
Now I just shook my head. Hana didn't argue. We continued downward. I didn't particularly like what that said about either of us, but knowing people were alive didn't automatically mean knowing who they were. The building group chat had gone dead before we'd learned who was still occupying which floors. They might be perfectly normal residents. They might also be several hungry strangers who'd broken into an empty apartment.
If we came back with food, I'd rather decide what to do about them while standing somewhere that wasn't the inside of a narrow shaft.
Ground level eventually appeared beneath my feet as a short concrete ledge beside another maintenance panel. I climbed onto it, shifted my pack so I could turn around and tested the metal with my palm.
It didn't move.
Of course.
I pushed again.
Nothing.
Hana descended until her shoes appeared above my head.
What's wrong?
Stuck. I pointed.
Can we go back?
I looked upward into eleven floors of darkness.
...I'd rather not.
The shovel fit awkwardly into the gap. I worked the edge between the panel and the frame, trying to make as little noise as possible.
The first push did nothing. The second produced an unpleasant metallic squeal that felt loud enough to notify the entire district.
Both of us froze.
Nothing happened.
I tried again, slower this time, until the panel finally shifted outward by a few centimetres.
Something on the other side toppled over.
The clatter echoed through the room.
Hana's hand immediately caught the back of my shirt. Her hands were trembling... I could feel mine too.
I didn't need to tell her to be quiet.
A dragging sound came from somewhere beyond the opening.
Slow.
Uneven.
Getting closer.
I leaned toward the gap and looked through.
Concrete floor. The wheels of a green, industrial rubbish bin. Several plastic bags lying around it. Then a bare foot shuffled into view, grey skin darkened around the ankle by dried blood.
I pulled back immediately.
Hana stared at me.
I raised one finger.
She nodded.
The infected wandered past our panel. I could hear its breathing now, wet and irregular. Occasionally its foot dragged hard enough against the floor to make a faint scraping noise.
We stayed there until it moved farther away.
My arms were beginning to ache from the position, so I slowly pushed the panel again. The opening widened enough for me to see most of the collection room.
Three large rubbish bins sat against one wall. Plastic bags had piled around them after people stopped bothering to dispose of things properly. A roller shutter covered the main vehicle entrance, although someone had left it raised about thirty centimetres from the ground. Daylight spilled beneath it in a bright horizontal strip.
One infected.
At least from where I could see.
It stood near the far side of the room with its back toward us, head hanging slightly to one side.
The exit door was perhaps six metres away.
I watched it for another few seconds before retreating behind the panel.
Hana made another gesture, How many?
One.
She seemed relieved.
I wasn't.
One was enough.
I could probably wait until it wandered farther away, open the panel and slip toward the exit. Hana would follow. If everything went perfectly, we wouldn't have to fight it.
Everything had gone perfectly remarkably few times this week.
I shifted the shovel into my right hand.
The pistol would be better.
The problem was Hana.
I'd managed to avoid explaining the Inventory for several days, and summoning a handgun out of thin air directly in front of her would make maintaining that arrangement somewhat difficult. Also, carrying a firearm was illegal. Eden wasn't like the States.
Then again, dying because I wanted to preserve a secret from a teenager was also stupid.
I decided to leave the weapon inside unless I actually needed it.
I pushed the panel wider and climbed out.
The smell hit properly once I entered the room. Rotting food, old garbage and something sweeter underneath that I tried not to identify. I crouched beside one of the bins and waited.
The infected didn't turn.
Hana emerged behind me much more carefully, lowering one foot onto the concrete before squeezing herself through. The moment she was out, I gestured toward the door.
We started moving.
One step at a time.
The infected remained where it was.
Four metres.
Three.
The door was close enough now that I could see the lock.
Two metres.
Then Hana's backpack brushed against one of the plastic bags.
Something metallic inside rolled across the concrete.
Clink.
Hana, seriously?! She recoiled at my glare.
The infected stopped.
So did we.
Its head turned.
For perhaps half a second the three of us simply looked at one another.
Then it screamed. GRAAARRHHH!!!
We ran, almost in sync.
The infected lunged forward much faster than the ones I'd watched wandering outside. I reached the door first, grabbed the handle and pulled.
Locked.
Of course it was fucking locked.
Hana collided with my shoulder. The infected was already halfway across the room.
"Mister!!!"
Don't fucking shout!
I swung the shovel.
The edge struck its arm instead of its head. The impact knocked it sideways but barely slowed it. It stumbled into one of the bins, caught itself and immediately came back.
I swung again. Missed.
There was no time for a third.
"Behind me!" I yelled, lost to the adrenaline.
I didn't think about whether Hana was watching anymore.
Inventory.
Blue fragments gathered around my hand.
The PZ400 appeared.
Hana made some noise behind me, but I barely registered it.
The infected charged.
I raised the pistol with both hands.
Too close.
The first shot exploded through the small room.
I flinched harder than I expected. The recoil was insane.
The bullet hit somewhere in the infected's chest and spun it partially sideways. It didn't stop.
Second shot.
Shoulder.
Fuck.
Third.
The infected stumbled.
Fourth.
Its head snapped back and it collapsed so suddenly that I nearly fired again.
My ears rang.
For several seconds all I could hear was a high-pitched whine.
The pistol remained pointed toward the body.
It didn't move.
Neither did I.
Eventually I became aware of Hana standing behind me.
"...Mister."
"Give me a second."
My hands were shaking.
Badly.
I lowered the pistol and stared at the thing on the floor. Four shots from only a few metres away. Three of them hadn't gone anywhere near where I'd wanted.
So much for my time at the army giving me John Wick aim.
Then something appeared across my vision.
For a moment, just a moment, I forgot about Hana.
Forgot about the corpse. Forgot about the fact that somebody upstairs had almost certainly heard four gunshots echoing through the rubbish chute. I stared at the number.
One thousand.
My brain performed a calculation before I could stop it.
One pull cost one hundred.
That's how I get currency?
Hana was still staring at the pistol.
"Mister."
I dismissed the notification. There was absolutely no answer I could give that wouldn't create more questions.
So naturally, I chose the worst available option.
"Later. We made too much noise."
Her eyes narrowed.
"That's what adults say when they don't want to explain something."
"Let's keeping moving."
"You made a gun—"
Something slammed against the other side of the collection-room door.
Both of us jumped.
Another impact followed.
Then a low groan.
The gunshots.
There were more infected outside.
Potentially inside the building too.
I reached for the door again, then stopped. Going through it now seemed like a suicide attempt.
Hana stared at me for another second before glancing toward the roller shutter. Seems like she'll drop it for now.
The thirty-centimetre gap beneath it suddenly looked very appealing.
I pointed. "We're going under."
She didn't argue.
We crossed the room, keeping as much distance from the dead infected as possible. The shutter was heavier than it looked when I tried lifting it. Hana helped, and together we managed to raise it another twenty centimetres before something inside the mechanism caught.
Enough.
I crouched and looked outside.
The service lane behind the building was empty, fortunately.
Across the road, beyond the sheltered walkway and several abandoned bicycles, I could see the convenience store.
Three minutes.
That was what I'd said before. Yet standing at ground level, it looked considerably farther.
I turned back to Hana. "You first."
She dropped flat and wriggled underneath. I followed, dragging the pack after me before letting the shutter fall quietly back into place.
Outside air had never felt particularly good in Lincol. It was usually hot, humid and smelled faintly of traffic.
Today it smelled wonderful. Hana stayed close beside me. She kept glancing at my right hand.
The pistol was still there.
I noticed.
She noticed me noticing. Neither of us said anything.
We moved along the side of the block. The neighbourhood looked worse from ground level.
From my apartment, the apocalypse had mostly been distant movement, sirens and shapes wandering below. Here I could see the details. A delivery bike lay on its side near the curb, insulated box torn open. A car had mounted the pavement and stopped against a lamp post. There were dark stains near the driver's door.
I avoided looking closely.
The sheltered walkway ahead was clear.
Beyond it, the convenience store's lights were off.
The sign still hung above the entrance.
One glass panel had been shattered.
Hana saw it too.
"Someone already got there."
"...Maybe."
She looked at me, as if waiting for me to lay out the next plan.
"...We'll just take it one step at a time. Just a quick look."
We continued forward.
My attention kept returning to the corner of my vision.
1,000 Z-Chips.
The sensible thing was obvious. Food first. Get back safely. Figure out what the hell I was going to tell Hana about the gun after that.
...Unless we were caught with our pants down, the thousand Z-Chips could wait. Summoning a character at this time without fully understanding the gacha system might not be a good move.
I dismissed the notification and kept moving.
There wasn't much cover between our block and the convenience store, but the sheltered walkway at least broke up the sightlines from the road. I kept close to the pillars and tried to watch everywhere at once, which mostly resulted in me becoming increasingly aware of how many directions an infected could come from. Hana stayed close enough that I could hear her breathing behind me.
The store was perhaps forty metres away now.
Its front doors had been forced open. One of the glass panels was shattered, leaving a web of cracks around a hole large enough for someone to reach through. A display rack had been dragged halfway outside and abandoned there, packets of snacks scattered across the pavement.
Someone had definitely been here before us.
Whether they were still inside was another question.
I raised the pistol slightly and slowed down.
Hana followed suit without being told.
We reached the edge of the walkway.
Something shifted behind the darkened windows of the convenience store.
I stopped.
So did Hana.
...
Then a plastic bottle rolled out through the broken doorway.
It bounced once against the pavement and came to a stop.
Something inside scraped across the floor.
"...Shopping," I whispered, "might take a little longer than expected."