Amir looked at them.
There's still hope.
We know how to survive, there's no other way. Our food will run out, and we'll die, either from hunger or from terror.
Malik wiped away the tears he couldn't hold back, knowing something inside him, and that something was plainly evident to them: he didn't have the same chance of survival.
Mary approached the television and turned on the security camera, its lens pointed at the car. "That's the car, and thankfully there's nothing around it." All we have to do is reach her, and you two form a wall behind me until I open the door and we go in.
Amir looked at her. "Okay."
Malik was silent for a moment, and they both looked at him. Mary said, "Okay."
He nodded. "Okay."
He opened the door, and they hurried to the elevator. Their descent, prepared for what seemed like a battle, was a terrifying sight, as if they were descending into hell, as if it were their final battle.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, the plan began, and they ran silently.
The smell was rotten because of the doorman's body; he seemed to have been one of the first victims. His skull was crushed, and his abdomen was open, with insects swarming inside.
They continued silently outside, terrified that the iron door would make a noise, but luckily it didn't.
They continued until they reached the carriage. Things were easier than expected, and it was strange. Where most of the undead had disappeared, Mary, trembling, rushed to open the door. Behind her stood Amir and Malik, each holding a long knife, Malik also carrying a cleaver. Pistols tucked into their pockets. Everything went smoothly, and they entered.
They looked at each other with overwhelming joy, and the car engine started.
Then, to everyone's shock, someone fell in front of the car from the top floor, screaming as he fell. He had committed suicide. The sound of his voice, like that of the living dead, began to echo. Mary screamed and froze for a moment. Amir pulled her up and sat in her place, while the nearest undead were just a few meters away. He successfully moved the car, running over the suicide victim's body, and continued on his way.
Of course, more undead figures appeared before him, but he didn't stop for any of them. Finally, after a few minutes, he reached the desert road.
Amir turned on the radio, hoping to hear someone. He found a frequency—not a channel—of someone screaming in fear. But to his surprise, it wasn't a undead person screaming, but one of the thugs who... He began to warn, saying,
"Hey guys, watch out for this guy named Sika, that son of a bitch. He killed my sister and he's turned the place upside down. He's got a bunch of other thugs around him, and they won't let anyone through unless they pay him towards the hill near the army.
He's formed a kind of militia, roaming everywhere, and people are joining him.
Be careful, they have a skull flag on red cloth. And he doesn't have any mercy. If you don't do what he wants, he'll blow your head off. They were slaughtering a chicken."
The transmission started to cut out, and everyone looked at each other in astonishment, knowing that they were now about to face the living and the living dead on their way.
A few months before the pandemic
"Get up, you whore, get out of here!"
A girl woke up, grabbed her clothes, and ran outside.
"Who's that son of a bitch banging on the door?"
The sound of the door opening.
"Hey, Sika, why are you being so difficult?"
He looked at him with swollen eyes.
"You're still awake? You son of a bitch!" "Will you come with me?"
The visitor looked at him. "Why are you like this? I brought you the kind of food you like, and a new kind that just came out of the market."
A girl rushed out without looking back.
The visitor looked. "Oh, oh, oh. If you saw my face after this, you'd be in trouble. Okay, fine, may God make things easy for you."
Sika opened the door wider. "Are you coming in, or do you want an invitation?" And you'll keep staring at her as she comes down, for God's sake!
The visitor smiled.
No, man, why would I stare? It's just that the people in the house made me forget about these sweets.
The door closed.
The visitor looked around.
Hey, man, am I late or something?
Sikl was on a bus.
Sika sat on the couch and took a breath.
By the way, you're making a lot of noise. Do you have the stuff or should I go back to sleep?
The visitor sat down. "Sleep? You'll be going to Mars after this!"
The sounds of bags coming from a small bag he had with him were heard.
"Look, man, this is the regular kind, all right."
He took out another one. "And this is the awesome, crazy iced one!"
Sika looked at him. "So, you son of a bitch, you want to give me iced ice?"
The visitor smiled. "May no one ever come near you, you old hag!"
"I'm just showing you the different kinds."
Khawla looked at the table where the leftovers lay. Drugs, some cigarette butts, and food.
I just thought maybe someone would buy from you, and I'd show you that everything's available.
Then he reached in and pulled out another type.
This one's from a very, very, very respectable doctor, or a very, very, very rude one, hahaha.
Sika looked at him.
What's this?
He smiled as he took a very small amount out of the bag.
This is the last type, only available with me on the whole earth. Made in Egypt, hahaha. Why, it's not even here.
Sika let out a long snore.
You son of a bitch, you're experimenting on me. What do you mean, a type that's not available? Who's this doctor?
The visitor was flustered.
No, we don't reveal our sources, sir. This is a lucrative deal, and there's a lot of money involved.
And don't worry, it's very diluted. It'll never be as strong as ice, but if you add too much at once, it'll be like any other type of stuff that boils over.
Sika looked at him silently for a moment.
I know you're a money-grubber, but I swear to God, your stuff is unique. But your prices are outrageous, and I don't like being taken advantage of.
The visitor laughed.
Well, as a token of goodwill, you'll take this bag for free. And you can give your opinion. But the next one will be on paper and green too.
He put down the bag and stood up.
But he remembered, he's overdoing it, and he might be out of the game. I've warned you.
He headed for the door and left.
Sika's phone rang.
What's going on? Look, my friend, I'm going to treat you and the others tonight to something decent instead of that cola you're smelling.
Yeah, something really fancy. But don't bring that kid Boula with you.
He might get hurt. You know he's a fool.
Only a few hours passed before laughter echoed in the hallway, followed by a knock at the door.
Hey, open up!
Sika replied, "What's up, you idiot? You're knocking on the door, aren't you?"
He opened the door. "Come in, man."
Sika found more than two people.
"Hey, Uncle," one of them said, and they all went in until he stopped one of them with his hand. "Who brought you here, handsome?"
"Nobody, I swear."
"Hey, you shit, didn't we tell you not to come?"
"Why, Uncle? He loves you, I swear, and I'll give you the best beatings myself."
Sika replied, "Oh, you told me to get rid of that shit."
He leaned close to his ear. "If I didn't like you, I wouldn't have told you not to come. Get away from this shit and go."
"Hey, Uncle, why don't you just kiss me on the mouth instead?"
"No, man, I know there's something up." It's a big deal, and I won't leave until I try it.
He gave his other friend a sharp look, telling him that he hadn't taken his words and warnings on the phone seriously.
But then he and the others entered.
One of them grabbed something on the...