The voice spoke again, clean and unhurried, as if reading from a ledger.
> "First draw: Basic food and water necessities."
"Second draw: Basic food and water necessities."
"Third draw: Basic food and water necessities."
"Fourth draw: Serum boost—Strength."
Ethan's pulse thudded in his ears.
Before he could even stand, the air in front of him shimmered like heat haze off asphalt and popped into clarity. Three medium-sized green crates materialized on the floor beside his bed, stacked neatly. A smaller metal case sat on top, no larger than a shoebox.
He reached for the top crate first, his hands brushing over the cold steel edges. The weight was solid. Promising. He flipped the latches open.
Inside was food actual food. Rows of canned soup, beans, vegetables. Vacuum-packed pasta, rice, dried meat. Bottled water lined up in neat rows, the plastic still fogged from whatever impossible place it had come from.
He let out a low breath. This was more than he'd seen in days. More than most people in the building probably had left.
His eyes moved to the smaller metal box. It had a single latch and no markings except a printed word in bold black letters: STRENGTH.
Ethan hesitated. Then he flipped it open.
Inside lay a sleek black auto-injector, about the size of a fat marker pen. The casing was smooth, almost medical-grade, with a single recessed button on top. Underneath the transparent panel in its center, faint red liquid shimmered in the dim light.
Ethan sat back on his heels, staring at it.
A strength serum. Real? Fake? Poison? Some cosmic joke?
He muttered under his breath, "Peak of human achievement dead in his bedroom because he decided to jab mystery juice into his thigh."
The voice didn't respond. Of course it didn't.
For a long minute, he turned the injector over in his hands, weighing the risk. Outside, the city was becoming a hunting ground. People were changing. Parasites were inside them. Strength wasn't a luxury it might be the only thing that kept him alive.
"…Screw it."
He pulled up the leg of his jeans, pressed the injector against his thigh, and pushed the button.
The click was sharp. A tiny hiss followed, and the cold rush of liquid seeped into his muscle. He hissed through his teeth, half from the sting, half from anticipation.
It hit within seconds a heat flooding out from the injection site, racing up his leg, spreading through his chest and arms. His skin prickled. His breathing deepened. Every heartbeat felt heavier, steadier.
He curled his hands into fists. The tendons stood out sharper than before, the muscles tightening with a strength that felt… new. Not just stronger denser. He reached for the edge of his bedframe and squeezed. The wood groaned faintly under his grip.
A grin crept across his face.
"…Holy shit."
He stood and bent his knees experimentally, then pushed up into a short jump. His body felt lighter no, more powerful. Like the strength had been hiding inside him all along and someone had just removed the limiter.
"Two of these," he murmured, flexing his fingers, "and I could probably punch through a door."
For a few seconds, he let himself enjoy it the way his shoulders no longer felt like they carried lead, the way every movement felt smooth, coiled, ready. Then his eyes drifted back to the crates.
The food.
He exhaled. "Right, I should distribute these food."
---
When Ethan stepped into the living room, Robert was sitting cross-legged on the carpet with Jason, showing him how to tie a knot in a length of cord. Talia sat on the couch, knees tucked under her chin, watching through the blinds.
Maria's eyes found him instantly. "You've been in your room for a while," she said, not accusing, but not exactly casual either.
"Yeah," Ethan said, setting one of the crates down on the coffee table. The metal thud drew everyone's eyes. "Figured it's time we eat something better than crackers."
Robert's brows lifted slightly. "Where did you---?"
"Doesn't matter," Ethan cut in, kneeling to unlatch the lid. "What matters is there's enough here to last us a few days if we're careful."
The smell of sealed, preserved food puffed up as he opened it canned soup, meat, pasta. Bottled water glinted under the dim light.
Jason's face lit up. "Is that… actual soup?"
"Yeah," Ethan said, allowing himself the smallest smile. "Chicken noodle. And beef stew. Take your pick."
Maria's eyes narrowed slightly, flicking from the food to his face. "You just had this lying around?"
Ethan kept his tone even. "I had a stash. I'm bringing it out now because we're all here. Safer to eat together than hoard it."
She held his gaze for a moment, as if testing for cracks. Then she looked at the crate again, her jaw relaxing a fraction. "Fine."
Talia leaned forward, peering into the box. "What's in the other ones?"
"More food. Water. Same stuff," Ethan said quickly, sliding the crate toward Robert. "Help me split it up. No one eats more than they need."
Robert nodded and began sorting cans into small piles. Jason scooted closer, his hands twitching toward a bottle of water.
The group sat in a loose circle, each clutching a bowl of soup or a tin of something opened with a pocketknife. The smell of chicken broth and canned beef stew filled the air, almost painfully comforting.
Jason was the first to break the silence between slurps. "God… I forgot what warm food even tasted like."
Robert chuckled softly, not looking up from his bowl. "It's been what, two days?"
"Yeah, but two days of dry crackers and tap water that tastes like rust." Jason gestured with his spoon. "This? This is like… heaven."
Maria didn't respond, just kept eating slowly, eyes fixed on her soup as if savoring every drop. Talia sat beside her, knees drawn up, sipping quietly. The steam curled up toward her face, making her look younger.
Ethan leaned back against the wall, his own bowl in hand, watching them. They were eating like people who hadn't had a proper meal in a week, and in a way… they hadn't.
And in his head, a different thought was forming.
The voice had been clear shelter someone willingly for 24 hours, get a draw. The more people under his roof, the more spins on the wheel.
And nothing said they had to live in this apartment.
What if his roof… was bigger?
He set his bowl down on the coffee table with a soft clink.
"Robert," he said.
Robert glanced up, still chewing. "Hm?"
Ethan leaned forward a little, lowering his voice so Maria and the others wouldn't immediately catch every word. "Your apartment's on the other end of the floor, right?"
"Yeah. Two doors down. Why?"
Ethan tapped the rim of his bowl with his spoon. "You've got food left?"
Robert shook his head. "Just a few bags of rice. Some instant noodles. Not much."
"Water?"
"Half a case. Maybe a little more."
Ethan nodded slowly, then glanced toward Maria, who was still eating but clearly listening. He pitched his voice a little lower.
"I'm thinking… if things get worse out there and they will it might be better to consolidate. Keep the resources in one place. And… if people are already running low, they might be willing to trade something valuable for food and water."
Robert frowned. "You're talking about… moving people into your place?"
"Not just mine," Ethan said quickly. "Yours too. Or" he paused for effect, "we claim other apartments as ours. Offer food and water in exchange for them staying under our… protection."
Robert tilted his head. "Protection?"
Ethan met his eyes steadily. "Look, these parasites, these… whatever they are they're not stopping. People are gonna panic. Some will run. Some will try to take what isn't theirs. But if we control the food and water in this building? We decide who stays, and who goes."
Maria finally spoke, voice quiet but sharp. "You mean you decide."
Ethan didn't flinch. "I mean someone has to."
Jason shifted uncomfortably, glancing between them. "So… what, you want to go door to door and tell people their apartments are yours now?"
"Not like that," Ethan said. "We make it an exchange. We'll say move into these designated apartments, and we'll supply food and water.' People will go for it. They won't care whose name's on the lease if it means they eat."
Robert's brow furrowed, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the fridge.
Ethan leaned in, lowering his voice further. "Think about it, Rob. If we bring people closer together, we can watch each other's backs. One door to guard instead of five. One choke point. If something tries to get in, we fight as one."
Robert's mouth pulled to the side, uncertain. "Yeah, but… it still sounds like we're muscling people out of their homes. Feels like some gang crap. 'Your place is ours now, here's some soup.'" He shook his head. "I'm not sure I'm that guy."
Ethan's expression didn't change, but there was an edge in his tone. "It's survival. You think gangs out there will hesitate? You think the things crawling into people's heads will knock politely? If we wait for everyone to act fair, we'll starve or worse."
Robert looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it, man, I do. But… it's a hell of a leap from sharing soup to telling people where they can live."
Ethan's voice softened, but his eyes stayed locked on Robert. "And what happens if someone three doors down runs out of food and water? You think they'll just sit and starve? No. They'll come for ours. If we bring them in now, it's on our terms. We feed them, they stay close, we watch them. We keep control."
Robert stared at the carpet. "Still sounds like control for the sake of control."
Ethan shrugged faintly. "Call it whatever you want. Order, leadership, control doesn't matter. It means fewer dead. And if you think that's not worth some hard choices…" He let the sentence hang.
Robert sighed, his knee bouncing. "And if I say no?"
Ethan stood, his shadow falling across the coffee table. "Then I try it without you."
Robert's head came up, surprised.
Ethan moved to the crates, pulling a few cans, two bottles of water, and a knife from the kitchen counter. He slid the knife into the waistband of his jeans. "I'm not waiting for the next knock on the door to be someone desperate enough to kill me for this."
Robert didn't stop him. He just watched as Ethan walked to the door.
---
The carpet was worn, the fluorescent lights above humming faintly. Ethan's apartment sat in the middle of the floor three units on either side. He went two doors down, the one with peeling green paint and an old brass number plate.
He knocked, slow and deliberate.
A shuffling sound came from inside. After a long pause, the door opened a crack. An old man with a pale, lined face peered through the gap, one cloudy blue eye meeting Ethan's. "What is it?" His voice was dry, wary.
Ethan offered a small, polite nod. "Hi. I'm Ethan. I live a few doors down."
The old man didn't blink. "So?"
"I'm here to make an offer," Ethan said evenly. He lifted the water bottle slightly so the man could see it. "I'm willing to give you and anyone else in your apartment food and water. But in exchange… your apartment becomes mine."
The old man's brow furrowed deeply. His fingers tightened on the chain lock. "You're out of your damn mind. I've lived here twenty years. You think I'm just going to hand it over because some kid waves a soup can in my face?"
Ethan didn't flinch. "If things were normal, I wouldn't even think of asking. But you've looked out the window. You've heard the noises at night. People are already getting desperate. That lock?" he nodded toward the chain "won't stop them. Not for long."
The man's jaw worked, but he didn't answer.
Ethan took a half step closer, lowering his voice. "If you stay here alone, you're a target. People will come for whatever you have left. And when they do, no one will be watching your back. I'm offering you safety. Food, water, people who'll fight if someone tries to take it from you."
The man's gaze flicked to the cans in Ethan's other hand. "And you get what?"
"A stronger position," Ethan said honestly. "More space means I can take in more people. The more we have together, the harder we are to kill."
The man gave a short, bitter laugh. "So you're building an army."
Ethan didn't deny it. "Call it that if you want. But if you're inside that army, you're not the one getting trampled."
The old man was silent for a long moment, then looked past Ethan toward the hallway windows, where the gray light of late afternoon slanted in. His voice was quieter when he spoke again. "…I've got a niece. Lives upstairs. If I move, she moves."
Ethan nodded without hesitation. "Done."
The chain rattled, and the door opened wider. The old man's expression was still guarded, but there was a spark of reluctant calculation in his eyes.
---
The old man, whose name turned out to be Harlan, shuffled around his apartment with slow, deliberate movements, stuffing clothes and a few framed photos into a worn duffel bag. The place smelled faintly of old paper and dust, the kind of apartment that hadn't changed much in a decade.
His niece Eli, tall and wiry, maybe eighteen sat slouched on the arm of a couch, watching Ethan with guarded eyes.
"So," Eli said, drawing out the word, "you just… show up, offer food, and people just let you take over their apartments?"
Ethan gave a small shrug, leaning against the doorframe. "I offer safety. And food, yeah. But the real sell is strength in numbers. Alone, you're a target. Together, we're harder to touch."
Eli raised an eyebrow. "Sounds a lot like you're making yourself the boss."
"I'm making myself someone who survives," Ethan said evenly. "If that means calling some shots, I'm fine with it. You should be too because the alternative is chaos."
Harlan zipped the duffel shut with a sharp tug. "He's not wrong, Eli. You've seen the news… or what's left of it."
"There's no news," Eli muttered.
"Exactly," Harlan said. "Which means no one's coming to help us. We either stick together or we get picked off one by one."
Eli didn't respond, just crossed his arms and kept watching Ethan, as if trying to decide whether he was dangerous or just desperate.
---
Over the next few hours, Ethan moved through the 3rd, 4th, and 5th floors like a salesman who didn't have the luxury of being pushy. His pitch stayed the same food, water, protection in exchange for moving into consolidated units.
Some doors opened cautiously, some not at all there's probably no one inside.
A young couple on the 5th floor agreed almost immediately, their baby's cries barely muffled by a thin blanket.
Two middle-aged women on the 3rd floor hesitated until Ethan mentioned parasites entering through vents. They packed in fifteen minutes.
One guy in his thirties didn't even ask what Ethan wanted he just pointed to his nearly empty pantry and said, "When do we move?"
The only real wall he hit was 3B, a cramped apartment packed with six guys who all looked about twenty. Pizza boxes and game controllers were scattered across the coffee table.
One of them a stocky guy in a backwards cap leaned against the doorframe, blocking Ethan's view inside. "We're good," he said flatly.
"You've got food?" Ethan asked.
"We're fine," the guy repeated, his eyes hardening.
Ethan considered pushing, then shook his head. "Alright. But when 'fine' runs out, you know where to find me."
He left it at that. Some fights weren't worth starting… yet.
By the time he was done, Ethan had claimed 11 units about 31 people in total. Not all were loyal, not all were grateful, but they were here. And here was what mattered.
---
Back at Ethan's Apartment
Robert was sitting at the table when Ethan walked in, a half-played card game abandoned in front of him. He glanced up immediately. "Well?"
Ethan let the faintest smile curve his lips. "Did good."
Maria, curled up in one of the armchairs, didn't look convinced. "How exactly are you planning to feed those people?"
Ethan opened one of the crates, pulled out two cans of beans, and set them on the counter. "I have my ways."
Her eyes narrowed. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting," Ethan said, but his tone was calm, almost reassuring.
He grabbed a few more cans and bottles of water, set them in a box, and slid it toward the living room. "For you and yours," he said to Robert.
Then he picked up his share and headed for the door again.
Maria's voice followed him. "You can't keep feeding people forever."
Ethan paused just long enough to glance over his shoulder. "Watch me."