The silence was the worst part.
Before, there was always the hum. The refrigerator, the distant traffic on the highway, the buzz of the streetlights. Now, there was nothing. Just the dead, heavy weight of the air.
Kael woke up sweating. The garage was an oven. Without the ventilation fans running, the steel walls trapped the heat of the morning sun, baking everything inside.
He rolled out of the top bunk. His boots hit the concrete.
He looked at the bottom bunk. Empty.
Kael's hand dropped instantly to his belt. The Glock was there.
He scanned the room.
Emily was huddled by the mini-fridge in the corner. She had the door cracked open, staring inside as if willing the cold to stay.
"Don't open it," Kael said, his voice rough with sleep. "Every time you open it, you let the cold out."
Emily jumped. She looked at him, eyes wide and rimmed with red. She looked like a ghost.
"The light is off," she whispered. "The compressor isn't running."
"Grid died last night. Around 3 AM."
Kael walked over. He gently kicked the door of the fridge shut. "How long?"
"What?"
"How long until the insulin goes bad?"
Emily swallowed. She wiped sweat from her forehead. "It needs to be between 36 and 46 degrees. In this heat? If the fridge warms up... maybe six hours. Once it hits room temperature, it starts degrading. By tomorrow, it's water."
"Six hours." Kael looked at his watch. It was analog. 7:15 AM.
He had until 1:00 PM to find a generator and fuel, or his new Pharmacology asset would become a corpse.
"Get up," Kael ordered. "We have work to do."
He walked to the workbench. He needed to prep. Yesterday was chaotic. Today had to be surgical.
He checked his status.
[Name: Kael] [SP: 201] [Status: Dehydrated (Moderate)]
He grabbed a bottle of warm water from yesterday's loot pile and downed half of it. He tossed the rest to Emily.
"Drink. Then find something to pry that cast off if it gets too tight. Swelling is going to be a bitch in this heat."
He turned his attention to the System.
[New Category Unlocked: TRAPS & TURRETS]
He opened the menu. A grid of blueprints appeared, glowing blue against the grime of the garage wall.
[Bear Trap (Steel)] - Cost: 15 SP
[Tripwire Alarm (Sound)] - Cost: 10 SP
[Spring-Loaded Spike Mat] - Cost: 25 SP
[Auto-Turret (9mm)] - Cost: 500 SP (Locked: Missing Components)
"Five hundred," Kael scoffed. "Dream on."
But the cheap stuff... that was interesting.
He couldn't leave the garage unguarded. If he went out for a generator, Emily was defenseless. And with a broken leg, she couldn't run.
"System. [Spring-Loaded Spike Mat]. Where can I place it?"
[Designate Zone. Requires flat surface.]
Kael looked at the gap between the internal office door (welded shut) and the [Reinforced Steel Gate]. It was the kill zone. If they breached the gate, they had to step there.
"Craft one. Place it two feet inside the gate."
[Materials Required: Steel Springs, Scrap Iron.] [Auto-Deducting Materials from Inventory?]
"Yes."
Kael watched as the System went to work. It pulled scrap metal from his pile—old suspension coils from a truck, rusty rebar. The metal floated in the air for a split second, glowing with that strange digital light, before fusing together on the floor.
It looked like a flat rubber mat, innocuous. But Kael saw the pressure plate mechanism underneath. 50 pounds of pressure would trigger twelve-inch steel spikes to snap upward with enough force to pierce a car tire.
[-25 SP] [Current SP: 176]
"Don't step on the mat by the door," Kael told Emily. "Unless you want new holes in your feet."
"I can't even walk to the door," she muttered, adjusting her duct-tape splint.
"Good. Stay put."
Now, a weapon.
He had lost the Ripper Pole. The Glock had 7 rounds. He needed a melee weapon that didn't run out of batteries. The Ripper was fun, but the battery life was a fatal flaw.
He needed leverage. Blunt force. Something that didn't get stuck in ribs.
He looked at the [Crafting] menu.
[Blueprint: Pneumatic Piston-Hammer] [Cost: 40 SP] [Description: A sledgehammer with a compressed air cylinder. On impact, the piston fires, driving the head forward for explosive damage.] [Drawback: Heavy. Requires manual re-priming after 10 shots.]
"Perfect."
He scavenged a heavy sledgehammer head from the tool rack and a hydraulic cylinder from a broken floor jack.
"Craft."
[-40 SP] [Current SP: 136]
The System fused the parts. The handle lengthened, reinforced with steel piping. The head of the hammer became bulky, housing the cylinder. A pressure gauge and a priming lever appeared on the side.
Kael hefted it. It weighed twenty pounds. Heavy. But with his Strength 6 and Constitution 10, it felt manageable.
He pulled the priming lever. Hiss-click. The air compressed.
He swung it gently at the air. It was balanced.
"Okay," Kael said. "Generator time."
He turned to Emily. "Where is the nearest place that would have a portable generator? Not the big industrial ones. One I can carry."
Emily thought for a moment, wincing as she shifted her leg. "The hardware store on 5th is probably stripped. But... there's a construction site. They were building those new condos two blocks over. They had trailered generators, but they also had the small Hondas for the power tools."
"The condos," Kael nodded. "That's open ground. Exposed."
"There's also the camping store," she added. "Outdoor World. It's in the strip mall next to the laundromat."
"Closer," Kael noted. "But looting a camping store is everyone's first idea."
He checked the heat. It was rising.
"I'll try the construction site. Less likely to be crowded with looters. People are lazy; they hit the shops first."
He grabbed a crowbar and shoved it through his belt loop. He holstered the Glock. He shouldered the Piston-Hammer.
"I'm opening the gate. You have the pepper spray?"
Emily patted her pocket. "Yes."
"If anyone gets in... spray and scream. I'll hear you."
Kael walked to the control box. He hit the button.
The [Reinforced Steel Gate] rumbled up.
The sunlight was blinding. The smell hit him instantly—rotting garbage and burnt plastic.
He stepped out.
The street was empty. The bodies from yesterday were bloated, baking in the heat.
Kael scanned the rooftops. He didn't see anyone.
"System," he whispered. "Map mode."
[MAP UNAVAILABLE. EXPLORATION REQUIRED.] [Direction to Construction Site: East, 300 Yards.]
He stepped onto the hot asphalt. The gate rumbled shut behind him, sealing Emily inside the dark oven.
300 yards. In this world, that was a marathon.
He moved toward the first cover—the burnt-out delivery truck.
As he crouched behind the tire, he saw movement.
Not zombies.
Dogs.
A pack of three strays. A German Shepherd mix and two smaller mutts. They were tearing at the corpse of the Butcher zombie Kael had killed yesterday.
The Shepherd looked up. Its muzzle was red. Its eyes were wrong—milky, aggressive.
[Target: Infected Canine (Pack Leader)] [Threat: High] [Speed: Very High]
Kael gripped the hammer. Dogs were faster than zombies. Harder to hit.
The Shepherd barked—a ragged, wet sound. The other two looked up.
They saw him.
"Here we go," Kael whispered.
The Shepherd didn't bark again. It lowered its head, ears flattened against its skull, and launched itself across the asphalt.
It covered the twenty yards in two seconds.
The two smaller mutts split wide—one left, one right. Pack tactics. They were hunting, not fighting.
Kael stood his ground. He didn't have the agility to outrun a dog. He had to trade.
He tightened his grip on the Piston-Hammer. His finger hovered over the release trigger built into the handle.
The Shepherd leaped.
It aimed for his throat. Its jaws were wide, rows of yellow teeth dripping with infectious saliva.
Kael didn't swing. He jabbed.
He thrust the heavy steel head of the hammer forward like a battering ram, aiming for the dog's open chest.
Impact.
As the steel met fur and ribcage, Kael squeezed the trigger.
KA-CHUNK!
The pneumatic cylinder fired. The piston extended with explosive force, driving the hammerhead another six inches forward in a millisecond.
The sound was like a shotgun blast.
The Shepherd's chest cavity didn't just break; it collapsed. The dog was blasted backward out of the air as if it had hit an invisible wall. It slammed into the side of the delivery truck with a wet thud and slid down, motionless.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +10 SP] [Target: Alpha Infected Canine]
"One," Kael counted.
He grabbed the priming lever on the side of the hammer and yanked it back. Hiss-click. Reprimed.
Pain flared in his left forearm.
The mutt on the left had closed the distance while he was dealing with the leader. It latched onto his arm, teeth grinding against the leather.
Kael felt the pressure, crushing and sharp, but the teeth didn't penetrate.
[Defense Successful: Riot Leather Jacket] [Damage Negated] [Durability: 98/100]
The studs on the jacket tore at the dog's gums.
Kael grimaced, gritted his teeth, and swung his arm, lifting the thirty-pound dog into the air. He slammed it against the truck's fender.
The dog yelped and let go, scrabbling for purchase on the hot pavement.
Before it could recover, Kael brought the hammer down. He didn't waste a piston charge. Gravity and Strength 6 were enough.
CRUNCH.
The skull flattened.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +5 SP]
The third dog—a scruffy terrier mix—skidded to a halt. It looked at the Alpha paste on the truck. It looked at the flattened mutt.
It whined.
Then it turned and ran, sprinting back down the alley.
Kael didn't chase it. He wasn't wasting energy on a coward.
[Current SP: 151]
He checked the jacket. Deep scratches on the left arm, wet with dog saliva. But no skin broken. No infection.
"Worth every point," he muttered.
He wiped the hammer head on the dead dog's fur and kept moving.
The heat was getting worse. The air shimmered above the road. Every step felt heavier than the last. Kael wiped sweat from his eyes, stinging and salty.
The construction site loomed ahead.
It was a skeleton of a building—six stories of grey concrete slabs and rusted rebar, surrounded by a chain-link fence covered in green mesh.
The main gate was padlocked. A heavy chain looped through the handles.
[Object: Hardened Steel Chain] [Durability: High] [Action: Breakable with Tool]
Kael holstered the hammer on his back. He pulled the crowbar from his belt.
He jammed the hooked end into the chain loop and braced his boot against the gate. He heaved.
His muscles strained. The veins in his neck bulged. The Constitution 10 upgrade wasn't just health; it was density. His tendons held.
SNAP.
A link in the chain popped open. The chain rattled to the ground.
Kael pushed the gate open. It squealed on dry hinges.
He stepped inside.
The site was a maze. Pallets of bricks, stacks of lumber, and portable toilets were scattered everywhere. A yellow tower crane stood silent against the sky.
Kael stayed low, moving between the stacks of drywall.
He needed a generator.
He scanned the ground level. There were extension cords running everywhere, snake-like and orange, all converging on a central point near the base of the building.
He followed the cords.
They led to a caged area under the first-floor overhang. A secure storage zone.
And there it was.
Sitting inside the wire mesh cage was a Honda EU2200i. Small, red, portable. Quiet run. The holy grail of apocalypse survival.
Next to it were three red gas cans.
"Jackpot," Kael whispered.
He moved toward the cage.
Then he stopped.
The ground around the cage was disturbed. The dirt was churned up.
And there was a smell. Not just rot. It smelled like... musk. Like a zoo.
Kael crouched behind a pallet of cement bags. He scanned the shadows under the concrete overhang.
Movement.
Something was shifting in the dark corner behind the generator cage.
It stepped out.
It wasn't a zombie. It wasn't a dog.
It was a man. But he was... wrong.
He was wearing a torn construction vest and a hard hat that had fused to his scalp. His skin was grey and leathery, like hide. But the most disturbing part was his arms.
They were swollen. Massive. The forearms were the size of Kael's thighs, dragging on the ground like a gorilla's. The hands were fused into bony, calloused clubs.
[TARGET IDENTIFIED] [Variant: The Smasher (Level 2)] [Attributes: High Strength, High Defense] [Weakness: Slow Speed, Joints] [Danger Level: HIGH]
Kael swallowed dryly. A Level 2.
The Smasher was pacing back and forth in front of the cage, dragging its knuckles. It was guarding the territory.
Kael looked at the generator. It was ten feet behind the monster.
He looked at his Piston-Hammer. One charge in the chamber.
He looked at the Glock. 7 bullets.
If he shot, the noise would echo in this concrete shell like a bell. Every zombie in a mile radius would come.
He had to do this quietly. Or at least, quickly.
He needed a plan.
The Smasher turned, its milky eyes scanning the perimeter. It sniffed the air.
It smelled him.
The creature let out a low rumble, vibrating deep in its chest. It turned its head directly toward the pallet of cement bags.
"Damn it," Kael hissed.
He stood up. No point hiding now.
The Smasher roared—a deafening sound that shook dust from the ceiling—and charged.
For a big thing, it moved fast. It galloped on all fours like an ape.
Kael didn't retreat. He couldn't outrun it in this maze.
He stepped out, planting his feet. He leveled the Piston-Hammer.
"Come on, Kong," Kael growled. "Let's see whose hammer is harder."
The Smasher hit the pallet of cement bags like a runaway train.
BOOM.
Dust exploded outward, a grey cloud that instantly choked the air. Bags burst, burying the creature in powder.
Kael didn't wait to see if it was hurt. He dove to the right, rolling over a pile of loose bricks. Sharp edges dug into his ribs, but the [Riot Leather Jacket] took the brunt of the abrasion.
He scrambled to his feet.
A massive, club-like arm swung out of the dust cloud. It missed Kael's head by inches, the wind of the swing ruffling his hair. The fist smashed into a concrete pillar, cracking the surface.
"Heavy hitter," Kael noted, backing up. "Slow recovery."
The Smasher emerged from the dust, shaking its head. Concrete powder coated its wet, grey skin, making it look like a golem. It roared again, fixing its milky eyes on Kael. It ignored the pillar it had just damaged. It felt no pain.
It raised both arms for a hammer blow.
Kael saw the opening. The creature's chest was exposed as it wound up.
Kael stepped in. He didn't swing the hammer; he thrust it like a spear, aiming the flat face of the sledge at the Smasher's sternum.
Impact.
He squeezed the trigger.
KA-CHUNK!
The pneumatic piston fired.
The force kicked back into Kael's shoulders, jarring his teeth. But the effect on the Smasher was catastrophic.
The steel head drove three inches into the creature's chest cavity. Ribs shattered with the sound of dry wood snapping. The impact lifted the heavy monster off its feet and threw it backward.
It landed hard on its back, sliding across the grit.
[CRITICAL HIT] [Damage: Massive] [Target Stunned]
Kael didn't celebrate. He grabbed the priming lever on the hammer handle.
Yank. Hiss-click.
"Reloaded."
The Smasher was trying to get up. It coughed, spraying black blood mixed with grey dust. Its chest was a crater, caved in and leaking. But it was still moving. Level 2 vitality was no joke.
It tried to push itself up with its massive arms.
Kael walked over. He didn't run. He walked with the heavy, deliberate pace of an executioner.
The Smasher looked up. It snarled, swiping at Kael's legs.
Kael hopped back, the massive hand missing his boot.
"Stay down."
Kael swung. A full, overhead arc.
He aimed for the head. The hard hat fused to the skull offered some protection, but not against this.
Impact. Trigger.
KA-CHUNK!
The sound was wet. Like dropping a pumpkin from a ten-story building.
The hammer pulverized the hard hat and the skull beneath it. The head simply ceased to exist as a recognizable shape.
The Smasher's limbs went rigid, then slack.
[KILL CONFIRMED] [Target: The Smasher (Level 2 Variant)] [Reward: +50 SP] [Bonus: Solo Kill (+10 SP)]
[Current SP: 211]
Kael stood over the corpse, chest heaving. The heat was suffocating. Sweat dripped from his nose onto the dusty floor.
He looked at the hammer. The head was covered in gore. The pressure gauge was in the red—overheated.
"Good tool," he wheezed.
He turned to the cage.
The chain-link door was locked. Kael didn't bother with the lock. He used the crowbar to pry the hinges off the frame.
He stepped inside.
The Honda EU2200i sat there, pristine and red.
He checked the fuel cap. Half full. He checked the three gas cans. Can 1: Empty. Can 2: Full (5 Gallons). Can 3: Half Full.
"Seven gallons of gas," Kael calculated. "And a generator. That buys us a week. Maybe two if we ration."
He grabbed the generator handle with his left hand. It weighed about 50 pounds. manageable. He grabbed the full gas can with his right.
He looked at the half-full can. He couldn't carry it.
"System. Absorb fuel?"
[Liquid Fuel Detected] [Conversion Rate: Low] [Value: 5 SP]
"Better than leaving it."
The gasoline in the can evaporated, turning into blue mist that flowed into him.
[+5 SP]
[Current SP: 216]
He left the cage. He was loaded down. Generator in one hand, gas can in the other, Piston-Hammer slung across his back. He was slow.
He walked back out to the main floor of the construction site.
Silence.
The fight had been loud. The pneumatic blasts echoed.
As he reached the gate, he heard them.
Shuffle. Drag. Shuffle.
He peered through the mesh fence.
On the street, moving toward the construction site, was a crowd. At least twenty of them. Drawn by the noise. They were blocking his path back to the garage.
Kael set the generator down.
"Perfect."
He was trapped. Behind him was the unfinished building. In front, a horde.
He looked up at the yellow tower crane.
"No," he muttered. "I'm not climbing that."
He looked at the alley to the side of the site. It was narrow, filled with debris. It led back toward the rear of the strip mall.
If he went that way, he could circle around. But it would take longer. And Emily's clock was ticking.
He checked his watch. 8:30 AM. He had time.
He picked up the gear.
"Alley it is."
He moved to the side of the site, slipping through a gap in the fence.
The alley was dark, shadowed by the buildings on either side. It smelled of urine and old garbage.
Kael moved as fast as he could with the weight. His arms burned. The Constitution upgrade kept his lungs from bursting, but his muscles were still human.
He rounded a corner behind the laundromat.
He stopped.
Blocking the alley, huddled over a dumpster, were three... things.
They weren't zombies.
They were rats.
But they were the size of cats. Their fur was patchy, exposing scabbed skin. Their eyes glowed red in the shadows. They were gnawing on a bone that looked disturbingly like a human femur.
[Target: Plague Rat (Swarm Type)] [Threat: Low (Individually) / High (Swarm)] [Disease Risk: Extreme]
They stopped eating. They turned toward Kael.
They hissed.
Kael couldn't drop the generator. If he dropped it, the noise would bring the horde from the street.
He needed to kill them without putting down the payload.
He looked at the gas can in his right hand.
"System," he whispered. "Do I have a lighter?"
[Inventory Check: No.] [Recall: You absorbed the Zippo for 2 SP.]
"Right. I'm an idiot."
The rats crept forward. They were fast, twitchy.
Kael slowly lowered the generator to the ground, trying to be silent. Clink. Metal hit concrete.
The rats shrieked and lunged.
Kael drew the Glock.
He didn't want to shoot. But he couldn't swing the hammer fast enough for these little bastards.
Pop. Pop.
He fired two shots. Not full bangs—the alley walls dampened the sound slightly, and he aimed downward.
One rat exploded. The bullet disintegrated it. The second rat took a round to the spine and started thrashing.
The third rat leaped. It cleared five feet in the air, aiming for Kael's face.
Kael swung the gas can.
THWACK.
The heavy plastic can, filled with five gallons of liquid, connected with the rat in mid-air. The rat flew sideways, smashing into the brick wall. It fell, twitching.
Kael stomped on it.
Crunch.
[KILL CONFIRMED: +3 SP] [KILL CONFIRMED: +3 SP] [KILL CONFIRMED: +3 SP]
"Nine points. For waste disposal."
He holstered the gun. 5 rounds left.
He picked up the generator.
He reached the end of the alley. He was now behind the strip mall. He could see the rear of his garage across the back lot.
The rear wall of his shop. It was brick. Solid.
But there was no door.
He had welded the office door shut from the inside. The only way in was the front gate. Which was blocked by the horde.
"Think, Kael."
He looked at the roof of his garage. The skylight.
He looked at the fire escape on the back of the laundromat building next to his garage. It went up to the roof. The buildings were separated by a ten-foot gap.
"I can't jump ten feet carrying a generator."
He needed to clear the front.
He looked at the back of the laundromat. There was a row of large industrial dryer vents.
And a gas line.
A yellow pipe running up the wall.
Kael smiled. A cruel, tired smile.
"System. Can I overload a gas line?"
[Requires: Wrench. Strength check.]
Kael pulled the crowbar. "Will this do?"
[Acceptable.]
He walked to the gas line. He jammed the crowbar behind the pipe where it entered the building.
He heaved.
The pipe groaned. Then it snapped.
HISSSSSS.
The smell of rotten eggs (mercaptan) flooded the alley instantly. Natural gas spewing out at high pressure.
Kael grabbed the generator and ran. He sprinted away from the leak, toward the far end of the lot.
He stopped at the corner. He needed a spark.
He picked up a rock. He looked at the steel railing of the loading dock.
"Old school."
He waited. He counted to thirty, letting the gas fill the alley and the back room of the laundromat.
Then he threw the rock. He threw it hard, aiming for the metal electrical box next to the broken pipe.
Clang.
No spark.
"Come on!"
He threw another one. A piece of flinty concrete.
Clank. Spark.
It was small. A tiny yellow flash.
It was enough.
WHOOMPH.
The air in the alley ignited. A fireball rolled out, blue and orange. The back wall of the laundromat blew out.
BOOM!
The explosion shook the ground. Windows shattered for blocks.
The horde on the front street heard it. They felt it.
They turned. They forgot the construction site. They forgot the garage. They ran toward the fire, toward the loud noise, like moths to a flame.
The street in front of Kael's garage cleared.
Kael grabbed his gear. "Move."
He sprinted around the block. He hit 4th Street. It was empty, save for the stragglers running toward the burning laundromat.
He reached his gate.
He banged on the steel with the crowbar. Clang-clang-clang.
"Emily! Open up!"
Nothing happened.
"Emily!"
The gate shuddered. Then it started to rise.
Kael ducked under when it was only two feet off the ground, dragging the generator and gas can with him.
"Close it! Close it!"
He slammed the button on the inside. The gate reversed and slammed shut.
Kael collapsed on the floor.
The garage was dark. Hot.
"Did you get it?" Emily's voice came from the dark. She sounded weak.
Kael slapped the red Honda generator.
"I got it."
He sat up. He looked at the burning building across the street through the skylight. The reflection danced on the walls.
"And I think I just declared war on the neighborhood."
The Honda generator sat in the middle of the floor, a red mechanical heart waiting to beat.
Kael didn't start it immediately. He dragged it to the rear wall, near the old exhaust vent for the paint booth.
"If I run this inside without venting it, we die of carbon monoxide poisoning in an hour," Kael said. He was talking to himself more than Emily.
He grabbed a length of flexible dryer ducting from his scrap pile. He duct-taped one end to the generator's exhaust muffler and shoved the other end into the wall vent.
"Crude," he muttered. "But functional."
He checked the fuel. Full.
He yanked the starter cord.
Put-put-put-purrrrr.
The Honda purred to life. It was quiet—Eco-Throttle mode—but in the dead silence of the garage, it sounded like a lawnmower.
Kael walked to the breaker box. He flipped the main transfer switch.
Click. Hummmm.
The garage came alive.
The overhead lights flickered once, then buzzed on, bathing the gloomy space in harsh, artificial white light. The mini-fridge in the corner shuddered and kicked its compressor on. The stagnant air began to move as the ceiling fans spun up.
"Power," Kael breathed.
Emily let out a sob. She dragged herself toward the fridge. She opened it, basking in the light of the small bulb inside. She checked her insulin vials.
"They're still cool," she said, her voice trembling. "It works."
"Don't leave the door open," Kael snapped, walking back to the workbench.
[Base Power Restored] [Source: Gasoline Generator (2200W)] [Fuel Time: 8 Hours] [Base Rating: E -> D-]
Kael looked at his SP. 216 Points.
He had power. He had water. He had a perimeter.
But the generator noise... it was a problem. Even muffled, a keen ear outside could hear the hum. And the exhaust smelling of burnt gas would drift.
He needed to mask it.
He opened the [Construction] menu.
[Upgrade: Ventilation System] [Add: Carbon Filter & Sound Baffles] [Cost: 50 SP]
"Purchase."
[-50 SP]
The vent on the wall shimmered. The rusted grate transformed into a sleek, black louvered box. The sound of the exhaust vanished completely from the outside (according to the System). The air leaving the building would be scrubbed of smell.
[Current SP: 166]
Kael sat down on the stool. He was exhausted. The fight with the Smasher, the run with the generator, the explosion... his body was running on fumes and Constitution stats.
He looked at Emily. She had injected her insulin and was now leaning back against the tires, looking a little more human.
"Hungry?" Kael asked.
She nodded.
Kael tossed her a bag of beef jerky and a warm bottle of Gatorade from the loot pile.
"Eat. Then tell me about the Vultures."
Emily froze, a piece of jerky halfway to her mouth. "The who?"
"The Vultures," Kael repeated. "You mentioned the hardware store on 5th was stripped. You didn't say 'looted.' You said 'stripped.' That implies organization. Who stripped it?"
Emily lowered the food. She looked at the steel gate.
"They're a biker gang," she said quietly. "The 'Iron Saints' before all this. Now they call themselves Vultures. They took over the Police Station on 3rd yesterday. I saw them... I saw them dragging people out of cars."
Kael's eyes narrowed. The Police Station. That was an armory.
"How many?"
"Twenty? Thirty? They have guns. And they have... chains."
"Chains?"
"They catch the infected," Emily whispered. "They chain them to the fences. Like guard dogs."
Kael tapped his fingers on the metal workbench. Smart. Cruel, but smart.
"They're close," Kael said. "Three blocks."
"They'll see the smoke from the laundromat," Emily said. "They'll come looking."
"Let them come."
Kael stood up. He had 166 SP. He needed to fortify.
He walked to the [Spring-Loaded Spike Mat] he had installed by the door. It was good, but it was just one trap.
He looked at the new [TRAPS] menu again.
[Blueprint: Shotgun Tripwire] [Cost: 30 SP + Shotgun Shell]
He didn't have a shotgun shell.
[Blueprint: Molotov Rigs] [Cost: 20 SP + Alcohol/Fuel + Bottle]
He had the whiskey. He had gas.
"System. Craft three Molotov Rigs."
[Materials Detected: Whiskey Bottle, Gasoline, Rags, Wire.] [Crafting...]
Kael worked for an hour. He rigged three bottles filled with a mix of gas and styrofoam (which he scraped from packing peanuts to make homemade napalm). He wired them to the ceiling trusses above the main kill zone.
If he pulled a cord by the workbench, the bottles would drop, shatter, and ignite.
[-60 SP] [Current SP: 106]
"Fire hazard," Kael muttered. "But better than being eaten."
He spent the rest of the afternoon organizing. He built a rack for the water. He set up a charging station for the batteries. He sharpened the blade on the Piston-Hammer.
Night fell.
The garage was a haven of light and cool air. But Kael turned the main lights off, leaving only a small LED work lamp on the desk. No need to advertise.
He climbed up to the skylight to check the perimeter.
The laundromat across the street was a smoldering ruin. The fire had died down, leaving a blackened skeleton.
The street was dark.
But then, he saw it.
A light. A focused beam, cutting through the smoke.
It was moving. Sweeping the street.
Kael pressed his face against the dirty glass.
A vehicle. A jeep, modified with welded steel plates over the windows. A spotlight was mounted on the roof.
It was cruising slowly down 4th Street. It stopped in front of the burnt laundromat.
Two men got out. They were armed. Assault rifles.
Kael's grip tightened on the ladder rung. Assault rifles. He had a pistol and a hammer.
The men poked at the rubble. One of them pointed at the ground—at the spot where the gas line had been pried open.
They knew it wasn't an accident.
Then, the spotlight swung.
It swept across the street. It hit the front of Kael's garage.
The beam lingered on the [Reinforced Steel Gate].
The gate was grey, industrial, and looked new. It didn't look like the rusted piece of junk that used to be there.
One of the men tapped the other on the shoulder. He pointed at the gate.
Kael held his breath.
Don't come knock. Not tonight.
The man with the rifle walked toward the garage. He stopped ten feet away. He looked at the pavement—at the black blood stains where Kael had killed the zombies earlier.
He leaned down and picked something up.
It was a shell casing. From Kael's Glock.
The man looked at the garage again. He smiled. Kael could see the smile in the harsh light of the jeep's beams. It was a predator's smile.
He didn't attack. He didn't yell.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a can of spray paint.
He walked up to the steel gate.
HISSSSSS.
He sprayed a symbol on the metal. A red circle with a "V" inside it.
Then he walked back to the jeep. They laughed, climbed in, and drove off.
Kael climbed down the ladder. His face was grim.
"What was it?" Emily asked from her bunk. "Did they see us?"
Kael walked to the control panel. He looked at the external camera feed (a grainy black and white feed from the small backup camera he'd rigged).
The red paint was dripping on the steel.
"They marked us," Kael said. "It means 'Property of the Vultures'."
He checked his ammo. 5 rounds. He checked the generator. 7 hours of fuel. He checked his SP. 106.
"They're coming back," Kael said softly. "Probably with a truck to breach the door."
He looked at the [System Store].
[Upgrade: Auto-Turret (9mm)] [Cost: 500 SP]
He was 394 points short.
"Emily," Kael said. "Can you hold a gun?"
"I... I've never fired one."
"Learn fast. Tomorrow, we're not looting for food."
He racked the slide of the Glock.
"Tomorrow, we hunt."