He finishes the 49th, marks empty doors, tests the handle on some, they open easily and it's clear there's no one inside, he doesn't go in yet, just marks it for later, priority is living people and a safe route.
When he finishes covering both floors, he calls those who responded, gathers them in the wider hallway, the door closed behind him, people leaning against the wall, everyone speaking softly, looking at him as if he had a ready answer, and he cuts that off before it gets out of hand.
Nobody here is a hero, everyone here just wants to live, so we're going to do the basics well.
He points to the guy who said he opens doors.
— You come with me later, we'll open the empty ones without breaking in to get what's worthwhile without making a sound.
Points to the woman from the construction site.
— You see the staircase with me, we remove the doors from these empty units, reinforce the entrance to the staircase, create retaining walls at two points; it's not pretty, but it's safe.
He looks around.
Anyone who has a tool, speak up now: wrench, hammer, tape, anything helps.
Hands rise, timidly but they rise.
Okay, split into two groups, one with me on the stairs, the other starts collecting material from the marked doors, no mess, no shouting.
He continues
— We throw the bodies of those who fell out the window, don't leave them inside, mark the empty door with a small X, then we'll come back and clean it properly.
A guy asks
— and drone, does anyone have one?
A woman raises her hand.
My husband had one, it's in the apartment.
— Perfect, take it, we use it to see the hallway, the stairs, maybe even the surroundings of the building.
He breathes, looks at everyone.
And another thing, nobody shoots aimlessly; silence helps, but it doesn't make you invisible; every shot is a decision.
A younger guy lets go
— and what if things go wrong
It always works, that's why we move together and quickly.
He senses the group clicking together, not fully trusting but accepting the logic, and that's enough.
— Last thing, the signal is two quick beats and one short one, don't change that, don't get fancy.
Everyone agrees, some even repeat it quietly like a mantra.
He adjusts the XM7 on his back, pistol firmly in his hand, looks at the staircase again, the entire building above and below like a troubled organism, and takes the next step without drama.
— Come on, 49's clear, let's block this ladder before something decides to climb up.
And the group moves, not perfectly, not trained, but together, which is the most one can ask for now, while outside the city remains wrong and inside that building someone decided that at least there it wasn't going to be free.
He gathers the group in hallway 50, people huddled against the wall trying not to make a sound, even out of fear, and goes straight in without a fancy speech because nobody there needs motivation, they need clear instructions.
— Locksmith, you open the doors and step back, no heroism required, there might be something inside. When you open them, step back and leave space for us to act.
The guy nods quickly, his hand trembling but steady enough to work, and he continues.
— We're going to clear the entire 50 first; this will be our initial base, no open corridor, no surprises behind us.
He points to some marked doors.
— We choose one of these empty ones and turn it into a food and water stockpile; everything goes there. And listen carefully, this isn't about hiding food, it's about keeping it for yourself alone. This is about group survival. If we start with this ego bullshit, we'll kill each other faster than any zombie.
A guy tries to say something, but he cuts him off calmly but firmly.
— United we last longer, alone you last less, it's that simple.
He looks at the weapons in some people's hands.
— Anyone who owns a firearm should keep their finger on the trigger and only use it as a last resort. Mine is silenced and still makes noise; imagine a rifle popping in here, it would turn into hell in seconds.
A heavy silence of agreement; nobody wants to test this.
— so it's knife, spear, club, whatever you have, and a cool head.
The locksmith goes to the first door, moves quickly without making a fuss, the lock gives way, he opens it a crack and recoils immediately, and from inside comes a crooked figure advancing, he's already ready, two steps forward, aims, breathes, fires in a controlled manner, cleans his forehead, the body falls, he doesn't celebrate, just makes room.
- next
And so it goes, door by door, some empty, others with one or two people inside, one apartment with three, they quickly learn not to all rush in at once, to open the door, retreat, leave space for a clean shot, and when they can, they use the spear to finish without wasting a bullet, the hallway becomes a silent production line, organized fear turning into action.
The group is starting to pick up the pace, people who had never held anything in their lives are now holding pieces of wood as if they were extensions of their arms, people looking at each other before acting, learning in minutes what would have taken months.
Clean this room.
— hold here
Close that door.
— mark with small X
The brands appear discreetly, a simple code that everyone understands.
They choose a more central apartment, without a window facing the hallway, which is better for control, and they start bringing things there—food, water, whatever they can collect from the empty units—everything brought in and organized on the floor, an improvisation that already looks like planning.
This is stock; nobody touches it without warning or making things disappear.
A woman starts sorting by type, someone else arranges things by corner, without anyone giving direct instructions, and things start to work.
Meanwhile, others are already tearing doors off empty units, hinges giving way, heavy wood being dragged slowly so as not to make noise, and the construction worker is already thinking aloud.
We use these doors on the stairs, locking them at an angle and reinforcing them with furniture and metal if available.
— Yes, but keep the passage controlled; we need to get out quickly if things go wrong.
They take the doors to the stairs, start assembling a first barrier at 50, another at 49, two lines, one secures the other saves time, simple and efficient.
— it doesn't close everything, it leaves an exit path.
Someone asks.
— and if it goes up a lot
— we retreat step by step and close in at the back
The 49th apartment is quicker to clean up, just that family, the rest were already gone, bodies on the floor, the smell starting to rise, and he decides right then and there.
— Window, throw everything out, don't leave it all in here.
They do it quickly, heavily, but necessarily, each body disappearing from the inner line of the building, and someone carefully closes the window.
He gathers everyone in room 49 after cleaning, leans against the wall, breathes, and speaks.
Here's the deal: we're going to barricade ourselves at two points, but I'm thinking about the second floor.
Some people look at it without understanding at first.
— why according to
Because if things go wrong, we can jump without dying. The fall is high, but we can get out alive, which is better than being stuck up there.
Silence, the idea slowly creeps in.
We'll hold out up there for now and organize things here, but the real plan is to have a proper exit, not just a staircase.
He looks at the overall picture, not as a boss, but as someone throwing ideas around.
Anyone have a better opinion? Speak up now. I'm not a leader, I don't want to be, I just don't want to die. And if you have a better idea, we can use it.
An older man raises his hand.
The second floor is good, but you have to make sure the ground floor doesn't become an easy entry point.
— I agree, so we can close the ground floor as well if possible, but our breaking point is the second floor.
The construction worker enters.
— You can reinforce the second and create a descent route with a rope or a tied sheet.
— Perfect, get it ready now, don't wait for things to go wrong to assemble it.
Another one speaks.
— and drone
— use now, see stairs, see hallway, see if there's movement going up.
The woman who had the drone is already running to get it.
The group begins to divide naturally, without shouting or making a mess, each person with a small but clear role.
— You two with me on the stairs
— You three organize the stock.
— you stay on the radio
He walks down the hallway looking at what it has become in minutes; it's not beautiful, it's not perfect, but it's structure, it's the beginning of something that holds more than each one of them alone.
He pauses for a second, looks out the window at the still-misguided city outside, and returns to the group.
Remember, there's no such thing as a perfect plan; there are only plans that work until they stop working, so we adapt quickly.
Everyone nods, some repeat quietly.
— adapts quickly
And there, on that high floor of a building in the middle of the chaos, it begins to seem less like despair and more like genuine survival, built by force, piece by piece, decision by decision, while the rest of the world outside continues trying not to completely collapse.
Three days later, the building is no longer a labyrinth full of surprises; it's a familiar place, every door open, every corridor marked, every staircase with improvised barriers holding back anything trying to climb. The silence is no longer empty, it's controlled. The group is no longer scattered, it's people who recognize each other by sight, all tired, but alive, and that's more than most have ever had. He stands in the middle of hallway 50, watching the group gathered, counting in his head: about forty adults, people between twenty and forty, fifteen elderly people sitting further away, ten children, some too quiet, others with nervous energy, and it hits him in a different way because now it's not just about surviving, it's about keeping this thing going.
Okay guys, we cleaned the whole building, that's no small feat, so let's use this to our advantage. I was thinking if we occupy floors 47 to 50, it would allow everyone to live closer together, we could get together quickly if things go wrong, and we could help more easily. What do you think?
The response comes from several sides at once, intersecting, people speaking softly but quickly.
— it makes sense to have less space to defend
I prefer not to go too low, but 47 is still okay.
The closer the better for taking care of the children.
— and it also helps to close the window.
He raises his hand, asking for focus.
Okay, so we'll close on those floors. We'll organize by family, by small groups, no need to spread people out alone.
He continues without pause.
— Another thing, we need a leader not to control everything, but to make quick decisions when necessary. So let's vote, no shouting, no messing around. Think carefully about who you truly trust.
A guy in the back is speaking.
— You're already doing it, why don't you do it yourself?
He shakes his head.
I'll start, but I don't want to carry this alone, so vote, then we'll see.
More voices join in.
I agree with the vote.
It has to be someone calm.
— someone who doesn't freak out
He lets that play out and pulls the next stitch.
We need two trustworthy people for the food stock, just two, with no uncontrolled comings and goings. Whoever touches something reports it, whoever takes it records it, even if it's just on a piece of paper.
A woman raises her hand.
I can organize that; I used to work in logistics.
Another man points.
— She's good at it, I saw how she organized the stock.
— beauty, another person along with her, who volunteers
A thin boy speaks softly.
I'll stick around, I'm kind of a control freak.
— Perfect, boring, now you two are saving lives, you're stuck on this.
He points to the windows.
— Another thing, we'll close the windows on these floors with the remaining doors so no birds get in here. You've seen what happens outside.
— I've already started measuring here; it's possible to lock it with two doors in a crisscross pattern.
We need a screw.
— use what you have, improvise
Do it today!
He keeps pacing back and forth, talking and listening at the same time.
We also need more food and fuel; gasoline helps, but I prefer solar panels. Does anyone know of a store nearby that sells them?
A guy raises his hand.
There's a store about three blocks away, but I don't know what it's like outside.
Another one enters.
I know the way, but there are a lot of cars stopped; there might be something in the way.
— Write this down, we'll put together a small team later to go there, but only when we have a clear route.
A woman speaks.
— and a battery needs a battery to store energy.
— good, remember that too
He looks at the makeshift stock.
— With frozen food, we don't know how long the light will last, so let's prioritize consuming what spoils first, avoiding waste.
We can cook and share.
But cooking makes a smell.
— so do it quickly and on a controlled schedule
— absolutely no cooking all the time
He pauses for a second, looks at the children in the corner, two playing with a piece of cloth, one crying softly, and changes his tone.
Most importantly, we need to set up a daycare for these children; they can't be left unsupervised in the middle of all this; someone needs to take care of them.
An older woman speaks.
I take care of children, I've taken care of them my whole life.
Another one enters.
I also help.
— Perfect, you two can do this, set up a secure, fixed space without direct access to the hallway.
He looks at the two pregnant women and his expression changes slightly, becoming more serious.
We need milk for the babies and… is anyone here a doctor?
Silence for a second, then a voice in the background.
I'm not a doctor, but I am a nurse.
Another female voice.
I am a general practitioner.
The group reacts immediately.
- thank God
— Seriously?
This helps a lot.
He points at her.
— You'll become a medical reference here; we'll organize whatever you need for you.
I need basic supplies first.
— we pick them up at the apartments and then go to the hospital.
- closed
The conversation starts to become even more interconnected, with people talking about everything at once.
— and security at night
— needs a shift
No one is left alone on guard duty.
— two per point
— it's a stopover, nobody works more than four hours straight
— and bathroom
— Use only a few and keep it clean
— disease kills more than zombies
- true
— and trash
— throw it out at a fixed point
— nothing to accumulate in here
— noted
— and communication
— radio in two points
— a fixed one, a mobile one
- good
— and who knows, maybe they know how to work with drones
I know a little.
So you get to keep it.
He watches it taking shape right in front of him without having to push everything himself, and that gives him a small but real sense of relief.
Listen, one important thing here: nobody owns anyone, but everyone is responsible for someone here. If you see a problem, solve it or call the person who can fix it.
A guy asks.
— and punishment
He looks serious.
— Punishment is now simple: whoever puts the group at risk will be isolated; there's no room for repeated mistakes.
A silent agreement; no one argues.
— and exit
— always have an exit route
— never rely on just one path
— right
— and the second floor
— we're going to prepare it as an escape route
— rope sheet anything
I've already started gathering materials.
He takes a deep breath, looks around, sees the tiredness, the fear, but also sees something new there.
We're not going to win this, we're just going to last longer, so let's last well.
Someone responds almost automatically.
— lasting is already a victory now
Another one completes.
— better than becoming just another one out there
A faint murmur of agreement spreads.
He takes a step back, lets the group talk more amongst themselves, organize details, discuss small points, people coordinating rooms, dividing tasks, helping the elderly sit more comfortably, bringing water to the children.
And there, in the middle of that tall building surrounded by a world that decided to break all the rules at once, something simple and rare emerges.
Organization.
Not perfect.
It's not safe.
But enough.
And for now, that's all they need.