Ivan sat on the toilet, his mind racing with conflicting emotions. What am I doing? The question echoed in his thoughts, growing louder with each passing second. He had just taken a life—an innocent life—and his first instinct was to clean up and use the bathroom? The absurdity of it gnawed at him, deepening his sense of unease.
He stared at the bathroom tiles, the clean surface almost mocking him. The reality of what he had done started to settle in, a heavy, suffocating weight. He had acted in self-defense, but the cold, brutal truth remained: he had killed Ms. Anderson. The guilt twisted inside him, leaving him uncertain about how he should feel. Should he be relieved? Horrified? Numb?
Ivan shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they persisted, clinging to him like a dark cloud. He was lost in a storm of emotions, unable to find solid ground. In a world where survival had become the only goal, the lines between right and wrong were blurring. But does that make it any easier? he wondered, knowing the answer was far from simple.
I wonder how Gramps is doing... Ivan's thoughts drifted to his grandfather, a steady presence in his life who had always known what to do in a crisis. Back when the internet was still up, Ivan had stumbled across some news about evacuation centers nearby, one of which had been set up by the local hospital for their patients and others in need. It was a small comfort, knowing there was a place where people were being taken care of, and that knowledge had kept him from losing hope when the chaos first erupted.
Gramps had always been resilient, the kind of person who could weather any storm. Ivan clung to the belief that his grandfather was safe, that he had made it to one of those centers. It was one of the few things that kept him going, even as the world around him fell apart.
----------------------------------------
After using the toilet, Ivan emerged from the bathroom with a sense of relief. The immediate discomfort had eased, but the weight of what he'd done still lingered, casting a shadow over his small victory. He decided to step out onto the balcony for a moment, seeking solace in the quiet of the early morning.
The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a gentle golden hue over the city. Ivan squinted against the light and glanced down at the street below. Ms. Anderson’s lifeless body lay crumpled on top of a car, the car alarm having finally stopped its piercing wail. The area was swarming with infected, their grotesque forms moving erratically around the vehicle. It was a grim sight, but at least the noise had attracted them away from his immediate vicinity. The new day had arrived, bringing with it a fragile semblance of calm.
Ivan took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease that clung to him. He turned back inside, resolved to focus on something positive to start his day.
The power had been out for some time, so he had to rely on his small camping stove to make his coffee and cook his breakfast. He headed to the kitchenette, where he retrieved the coffee jar he had been saving. The ritual of making coffee, even without electricity, was a comforting one. He took out his portable stove and set it up on a sturdy, stable surface.
Ivan measured out the coffee grounds and placed them in a small, makeshift filter. He then filled a pot with water and set it on the stove. The flame flickered to life, casting a warm glow as the water began to heat up. The process was slower than usual, but the familiar smell of brewing coffee soon filled the air, bringing with it a sense of normalcy.
While the coffee brewed, Ivan moved on to his breakfast. He pulled out his last few eggs from the fridge and cracked them into a bowl. Using a hand whisk, he beat the eggs until they were well combined. On the camping stove, he heated a small pan with a bit of oil. He poured the eggs into the pan, cooking them over the low heat until they were fluffy and golden.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Next, he cooked the remaining bacon strips, which sizzled and crackled on the pan, filling the room with a comforting aroma. The process was simple but satisfying, each step bringing him closer to a small, personal celebration of his birthday.
Once the coffee was ready, he poured it into a cup, savoring the rich, bold aroma. With his eggs and bacon cooked, he plated his breakfast and sat down at the small table by the window. The view of the rising sun and the quiet of the morning made for a peaceful backdrop.
“Happy birthday to me, I guess,” he muttered to himself, trying to infuse some cheer into his voice. Today marked his 18th birthday, a milestone that felt almost surreal given the circumstances.
As he ate, he allowed himself a moment of contentment. The breakfast was a simple one, but it was his own, and for now, that was enough. As Ivan finished his meal, he felt a flicker of hope, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there were small moments of normalcy and solace to be found.
As Ivan finished his modest breakfast, the sound of a new noise interrupted his thoughts. It was a low, buzzing sound that grew louder as it approached. He looked towards the balcony, and his eyes widened in surprise when he spotted a drone hovering just outside. The drone hovered in place, its camera lens focused intently on him as he ate.
The drone slowly descended and landed gently on the balcony floor. Ivan's curiosity was piqued, and he cautiously approached the device. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the small paper attached to the drone.
Unfolding the note, Ivan's eyes scanned the text, and his confusion quickly turned into disbelief. The note read:
Greetings Dumdass!!
ヾ(´･ω･｀)
...
Ivan blinked, his confusion turning into irritation. “Who the hell are you calling a dumbass, jerk!” he muttered, frustrated by the rude greeting and the playful emoji.
He continued reading:
Ivan’s heart raced as he read the additional message on the note:
Hello! My name is Luna and I'll just call you DumDum since I don’t know your name yet. I’m on floor 17 and have noticed you back when you shouted out “Hey!! I’m here too! Damn it, don’t leave me here!!” at the heli.
(>▽<)
I was only able to make contact now because I was trying to figure out how this drone works, but anyways, couldn’t you be quiet for once!?
ヽ༼ ಠ益ಠ ༽ﾉ
I am trying to survive here too, you Dumbass. You are attracting more infected with all that noise.
＼(｀0´)／
Ivan was stunned, his face flushing with embarrassment as he recalled the moment he had shouted at the helicopter. The realization that someone had been listening to him, and was possibly aware of his desperate situation, made him feel vulnerable and self-conscious. Luna was a name he didn’t recognize, and the way she addressed him added a layer of awkwardness to the situation.
He noticed the doodles on the note: a small face with a frown and a raised eyebrow, adding a touch of exasperation to the message. It was as if Luna was both frustrated and amused by his earlier actions.
Trying to regain his composure, Ivan looked at the drone and spoke aloud, “Can you hear me?”
The drone remained silent, its unmoving camera lens the only response. Ivan sighed in realization; drones typically didn’t have built-in microphones.
He quickly grabbed a piece of paper and wrote:
Hey! My name’s Ivan from floor 19. Sorry about the noise. Do you have any other way to communicate? This drone probably won’t last long.
With the note in hand, he attached it to the drone and set it down gently, hoping that Luna would see his response. He watched as the drone took off again, its tiny propellers buzzing softly.
Ivan’s mind raced as he contemplated the new development. The presence of another survivor was both a relief and a source of anxiety. He had been alone for so long, and the thought of communicating with someone else, even in a distant and unconventional way, brought mixed emotions.
The drone hovered for a moment before making an awkward attempt to steady itself. It almost collided with the wall but managed to regain its balance, giving Ivan a quick, almost comical glance as if to say, “I’m fine, no worries.” It then descended toward floor 17 and disappeared into a nearby window.