The dream of abundance didn't last all night. I was awakened by the need for control. Although my inventory was infinite, my apartment door was still old wood, and the only guards were the four walls of my mind. I couldn't let the euphoria of the previous day make me neglect the basics. Today, the priority was security.
I got up and headed to the kitchen. I need something hot. I remembered my initial raid on the apartment and started thoroughly checking the old cabinets. No coffee beans, of course. But at the back of a drawer, under a rusty spoon, I found a small box. A few packets of instant coffee.
—Store instant coffee packet —I whispered. BEEP.
Now I could start the day. I prepared a cup (hot water from the kettle, courtesy of my inventory) and my infinite ration of Noodles with Egg. I felt invincible.
Next, I checked my cell phone. No message from Jessy. Good. It's too soon. A girl with her reputation won't crawl back that fast. Irene, however, had sent an early message: "The team is moving out. I'll make sure to get you something useful today."
I laughed. The system was working. I had de facto employees in the apocalypse.
My attention focused on the front door. I needed to make noise, and a lot of it. If I did it during the day, I had to be fast and prepared for the swarm.
The plan: Fortify and seal.
I opened the inventory. I needed the tools I had acquired during the initial looting. My first search had been superficial, but now that time wasn't an issue, I could be meticulous. I returned to the living room and checked an abandoned toolbox that I had previously ignored because of its weight. It was empty, except for a Manual Hand Saw and a handful of different-sized screws.
—Store Hand Saw —I whispered. BEEP. —Store Assorted Screws —I whispered. BEEP.
DAN OLSEN'S INVENTORY (UPDATE)
Claw Hammer: ∞
Construction Screw Box: ∞
Assorted Screws: ∞
Plywood Sheets (1.5m x 1.5m): ∞
Hand Saw (Manual): ∞
I put on my gloves and opened the door, leaving the bat leaning next to me. First, the main door. The idea wasn't to make it pretty, but impenetrable.
I started cutting. Sshh-sshh. Sshh-sshh. The sound of the saw resonated, but being manual, it was bearable. I cut several sheets to fit perfectly against the door, reinforcing the frame from the inside and leaving only a small gap at eye level, which I would seal later with a metal peephole.
The hammering, however, was unavoidable. Every CLANG! that echoed in the hallway was a shout to the infected: Fresh food here! I worked at lightning speed, screwing the sheets onto the planks.
When I finished with the main door, sealing all the cracks and leaving it like a solid wall, I felt the cold sweat. I approached the small hole I had left to look out.
I saw two infected crawling down the end of the hallway, drawn by the noise. They were slow, stupid. I went inside, locked the bolt, and waited. They slammed against the door, without force, more out of inertia than rage. I heard their growling through the silence. Let them stay there. They'll be a natural barricade.
After a minute, silence returned. The success of my fortification gave me a sense of calm that only physical security can provide.
I reinforced the kitchen and living room windows with the same method. My apartment was now a box of steel and wood, a true Man's Fortress.
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It was almost five in the afternoon. The sun was beginning to set, and the risk of going out was increasing. It's the perfect time for the courier to arrive.
My cell phone vibrated. It was Irene.
"The transporter is on the way. A reliable young guy. He told me he bought you: a five-liter can of gasoline, a pair of good cutting pliers, and a box of generic painkillers. He did it with three noodles and two waters. We will replenish the rest tomorrow. He will call you before arriving."
A can of gasoline. Jackpot! With that, I could power a generator or create fire bombs. The pliers and painkillers were survival tools that cannot be replicated. The system was golden. This is better than any job I ever had.
Ten minutes later, my cell phone vibrated again. An unknown number.
—I'm Lucas. I'm coming from the supermarket. I'm downstairs.
—Come up to the second floor and wait in the hallway. I'll leave the door ajar so you can see the bag, and then I'll come out. Don't get close. —I ordered him.
I didn't trust anyone. Especially not someone who knew where I lived now. A transporter can turn into a desperate thief in a second.
I unlocked the bolt and slightly opened the door just enough to slide my head through. I saw the canvas bag. It looked heavy. Lucas was a thin, nervous young man, looking both ways.
—The merchandise is there. Your promised five noodles and five waters are in the green backpack, on top of it. Grab your pay and leave.
Lucas nodded, visibly relieved not to have to approach my fortress-door too closely. He quickly grabbed the green backpack and ran down the stairs.
I locked the bolt and approached the canvas bag. I opened it. The gasoline was sealed, the pliers were sturdy, and the box of painkillers was full.
—Store gasoline can... pliers... box of painkillers... —I whispered. BEEP.
Now I had the capacity to use heavy tools, medical supplies, and fuel. Physical security had been a resounding success. Now the generator is closer.
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Irene watched Lucas's route from the window, closing the metal hatch. She exhaled a long, tired sigh, pushing a strand of hair from her forehead. One of her men, a burly guy named Marco, approached the register.
—Hey, Irene. I don't understand why we have to do all this work for that guy. It's ridiculous. We could use those noodles to feed our people.
Irene crossed her arms, her expression turning severe, purely business-like.
—Listen to me, Marco. This person just shelled out ten units of food and offered to replenish anything we spend, without even batting an eye. In this time of scarcity, nothing ensures he doesn't have someone backing him, or that he himself is the big fish controlling a warehouse.
She paused, looking at her other two men to make sure everyone was listening.
—He could be our first and only contact with real abundance. Do you want noodles for one day? Or do you want me to earn his trust with perfect service so that we become his only permanent suppliers? Exactly. Do your job and make it look easy. Stability is priceless.
The men nodded, understanding that Irene was playing a bigger game. Calm and vision returned to the small appliance area.
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I sat on the floor, my back against my newly fortified door. I felt satisfied. Everything was going according to plan.
It's time to see the night's harvest.
I checked Link. A new direct message from Jessy.
"I saw your message, Dan. If you can really help... what rules do I have to obey? I'm close, alone, and scared."
I smiled. She was breaking her reputation out of desperation, exactly as I expected. My offer of abundance works better than any weapon. It took time, but the social network had worked.
I replied instantly. I couldn't let her cool off.
"The rules are simple, Jessy. Total obedience. No asking. No doubting. And the most important one: the company you offer is my currency. If you enter, it's on my terms, in my base. I will give you food, water, and security forever, but I decide the rest."
I put the phone aside. She knew who I was. I knew who she was. The power game had begun. If she accepted, she would have to arrive at night, which would indicate a level of desperation and commitment that I demanded. If she comes, I'll evaluate her. I don't need dead weight; I need someone who understands the value of their life.
I leaned back. The scent of freshly cut wood and the reinforced silence of my apartment were the perfume of success. Today, I had secured my physical survival. Tomorrow, I would see the price of my social survival.