CreepsMcPasta Creepypasta Radio - "This morning the doors to our apartment complex were welded shut." Creepypasta

Episode Date: May 9, 2021

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This story has been expanded into a full novel. If you enjoy this video and wish to experience the full story, I highly recommend picking up this book. The author has done a fantastic job, and I'd love it if you check it out in the description below. Right now, I'm in my apartment on the third floor, and I can't go outside. I'm lucky that I've just bought my groceries yesterday. I don't know who could have done that, but at this time, I know a few other things. I know that it was someone from the tenants since the seams in the door indicate

that they were welded shut from the inside I know that one of my neighbours' friends from the next entrance confirmed that their door was welded shut as well which tells me that they are still in here with us I know that we don't know who it is nobody has taken blame so far and I know that there's a dead body outside

but don't let me get ahead of myself I'll explain everything in a minute I live in a small and very old apartment complex on the far outskirts of a small town. Honestly, calling it an apartment complex is a stretch. It's only five stories high, no elevator, and it was built out of concrete panels all the way back in the 60s. It has no attic, so people living on the last floor have to constantly worry about rain ruining their ceiling, extremely sound conductive of their thickness walls, so you never feel home alone, and a basement which connects to a sewer system.

to a sewer system, which smells horrible in spring. In Russia, these kinds of buildings are called Khrushovka, named after Khrushchev, obviously. I get the appeal of a low-cost, easy to construct building, but I think there's not a single soul in the entire country who'd missed them. In 50 years, they should have demolished them and replaced them with something better, something newer. At this point, the buildings are a health hazard.

Usually only the old people live there, since it was the house they received long ago and never moved out. Young people like me rarely moved into Khrushovkas, which were why my neighbours were mostly old people. And let me tell you, old people in Russia are really mean. But I can't complain. I got this apartment from my late grandma, so at a young age I at least have my own place. plus the view from the balcony on the third floor is great it overlooks the forest which technically is the border of our town

so no ugly buildings in sight just a boundless nature which as I was told stretches for thousands of kilometres in that direction an entire ocean of dark wood that curves beyond the horizon in a way

I live on a beach pretty sweet if you don't account for the things that sometimes wash ashore At first I was kind of bewildered I went down the stairs to the first floor yawning and stretching and hoping for a weekend to come faster and I saw a crowd of people all in their coats with their bags in their hands

the air was hot and damp from their collective breathing and the air was quaking from the shouting I couldn't make out what they were saying because they were all talking at the same time but I could get the general mood some of them were confused but mostly they were outraged I didn't understand what was going on at first

it was 8 in the morning when everyone was either hurrying to their jobs or God knows where pensioners go so early but then I made it to the front of the crowd and my eyebrows shot up in front of me a couple of men in their forties were trying their hardest to push the door open only they couldn't The entire frame of the iron door was welded shut.

I could see the metallic seam running along the frame. Push harder, have a doctor's appointment in an hour. One of the old women shouted at them. It's no use. One of the men stood back and wiped the sweat from his forehead. The seam has already cooled down. Nothing short of a circular saw will open this door now. Are we locked in here?

One of the women asked in a tone that was boarding on hysterical. I can't stay here. I need to get to work. Everybody needs to get to work, the man snapped back at her, but the door is locked. What else do you want me to do? So what? We're just going to stay here locked because of some kids' prank?

She squealed at a frequency, I thought it was impossible for a human voice to produce. I doubt that it was a prank, the man said. I've worked as a welder for 17 years, so I can tell you for sure. The door was welded shut from the inside. There was a pause of silence as everyone considered the meaning of his words.

somebody locked themselves in with the rest of the tenants but why who the hell would do something like that i asked aloud to no one in particular some maniac for sure the old woman grunted she gave me a mean eye and then tucked my sleeve say what apartments are you from i don't recall seeing you here is he used on this she pointed at the door you and you're good for nothing friends huh probably hoping to budge us all and take on money huh She was getting louder with each sentence, and I suddenly found myself at the centre of attention of a really mean and annoyed crowd. I had to diffuse the situation fast, or else I wouldn't be able to reach my apartment in one piece. I'm to my reverse-levener's grandson, I explained, feeling angry that my words, the God honest truth, sounded like an excuse in that context. I've lived here for the past year, and it just came down from my apartment. "'Leave him be, you old hag,' "'one of the men from the back of the crowd interfered.

"'I've seen this ladder many times. "'It's a good person. "'Help me with my bags more than once.' "'The woman was obviously humiliated by such a development "'and gave me a death glare, "'but thankfully she didn't say anything else. "'A doorbell buzzed behind me. "'Someone from the crowd was trying to reach the neighbours

"'that lived on the first floor. "'Open up,' I heard a man's voice shouting, followed by the thuds of his fist knocking on the door. The door stuck and I need to go to work. How are they going to help you? Someone from the crowd asked. I'll crawl through the window. That's how.

The man replied. Don't be ridiculous. All of the windows on the first floor are grated. Somebody else shouted. But the man didn't listen. It seemed that more people joined him as I could hear numerous fists banging on the door. Hello?

Can you help me with the door? I can't seem to open it. We suddenly heard a voice. coming from outside, from beneath the welded door. Somebody was caught outside when the door was welded. I can't find any explanation as to why they were trying to enter our building at such an early hour. Perhaps they were out for groceries, or they decided to take a morning jog, or perhaps it was the postman.

Doesn't matter now. The people started talking all at the same time, trying to explain their situation to the man, or to ask him to call for help, or to demand him to call for help, or to demand him to explain himself. But he never had a chance to answer their questions. Oh my God, what the hell is that? He screamed in terror.

The door shook as he started pulling on the door handle, hoping to pry the door open. The crowd fell silent. The terror in the man's voice was so genuine that no one had any doubts that he indeed saw something horrifying. Please, let me in, please, he screamed again, desperately hoping to muster the strength to a moment. open the door.

We couldn't see, of course, what scared him so much. But we could hear it. The heavy snarling, the clanking of teeth of a huge moor, the claws scratching against the ground, getting louder with each second. The concern for his fate swept over us at the same time. It was probably what our ancestors felt when they watched one of their own being chased by a lion. Run! Run! Run why you still can! The crowd shouted.

But it was already too late. There was a loud thud, and the door shook. The unknown creature rams straight into the man, pressing him into the door with its massive frame. I could hear it growling as it was tearing into him, trying to get a better hold of him. But I couldn't recognize the animal. The door trembled again and again

as the creature was throwing the man against it, hoping to get him to stop resisting. He screamed until the creature finally got to his throat, someone gasped in terror Help him, someone Somebody from the back of the crowd shouted Nobody moved There was nothing we could do

The iron door that protected us from the creature outside Was also separating us from the man He was so close to us And yet he was dying alone There was another strike at the door And the crowd stepped back The creature was testing the metal He could hear us inside, but the door stood still.

Whoever welded it shut did a good job. After that, it felt silent. We don't know whether it left or was standing right behind the door biding its time. We couldn't check either way. It was at that moment that we heard them. The sirens, old and rusty, they were coming back to life after decades of sleep to fulfill their purpose, to warn people of an incoming catastrophe. The years of slumber did not do them any good.

They started out sounding low, but with each second, as the mechanical voice chords was stretching and warming up, they were getting louder and higher until the familiar sound that everyone had hoped to never hear was drowning out everything else. The sirens were getting louder, but in the pauses between its pulses,

I could hear that the noise of the town outside was getting quieter. After a few minutes, the commotion outside was gone, as everyone evacuated. We were left alone, probably the only people in the entire district. Alone, stranded, with something dangerous roaming beneath our windows. I can hear howl and scream in the distance. This voice sounds almost human, but I now know the difference. You could tell it clearly when the howl was followed by a human scream. Now, you might think that there was a panic among the tenants, but you would be wrong.

A distinctive feature of Russian people is that they, more than anyone else in the world, don't give a damn. I say this with absolute certainty. Once they learn that the police told them to stay put, they'd just calm down. I can sort of see their reasoning. Why panic when you're protected by the walls? Can't you stay at home for a few days? The police told us that it's dangerous outside, so why would you go there? I've lived through the 90s, you wetted, mutt.

You think this is going to scare me? So, while everyone was displeased, they all decided to stay putt. And, well, if they don't want to go, then I don't have much choice either. I'd rather stay in our fort with the majority of people, even if they aren't the most pleasant company, then risk going outside. Besides, it's not like there's any immediate threat to my life. Right? I'm still here, still alive, so that's good.

Still locked in. And I'm starting to doubt whether I'm as protected as I've thought I am. Today was the day when we were planning to try to leave this place. But with everything that happened, I don't think we'll be leaving any time soon. The water and electricity are still working, which is surprising. It might be that not the whole town has been evacuated or that there's some skeleton crew left to take care of the necessities. Just to be prepared for everything, I fill the bathtub with water

in case it stops running or something happens to the pipes. I'm also eating only perishable goods for now. The rest can wait. I guess I'll clear out the refrigerator first and switch to grains and potatoes afterwards. The phones aren't working anymore and neither is the internet without the VPN. I guess it would be smarter to turn it off completely, but someone at the local ISPs office is either not very smart or has left this window of opportunity for people like me.

On the day it all started, everyone in the building has been trying to contact the police. I remember that on the first day, you could hear them all through the walls, cursing that they wouldn't pick up the phone or begging to come help us when someone did pick up. At first, the policeman was seemingly shocked when they learned that we were still here. here. But then they told us how it was. Nobody was coming to rescue us. It would all be over soon. We just had to stay put. When people started calling their relatives, the phones were suddenly switched off and had stayed silent since then. So I guess the hire-ups don't want us to spread panic. Perhaps the rest of the country is not even aware of what's going on here. I'm not surprised. Our politicians have a long history of keeping catastrophe.

reviews under the wraps. The beast has been very active on the first day. Though I hadn't seen it, I had heard later from the rumors that one of the tenants had seen it lurking beneath his window. We'd occasionally hear its roars and screeches, and every time I could hear the entire building fall silent to hone in on its sounds and determine how far away it is. We couldn't hear it on Saturday. Only a few car alarms have been set off, implying that something still lurks there. and on Sunday. For now, let's just say we didn't see him during the day.

All of this has led people to believe that this whole thing is going to be over soon. Although on the first day, everyone was staying in their apartments. On the second day, people started going out. People were walking up and down on the stairwell, talking to each other, and even inviting their neighbors in for a dinner. I'd never seen these people getting so social. Usually they just give you a death stare. I could hear the clanking of plates and cups, whistling of kettles and chitter of tenants as they were gathering into groups. I can understand them.

Even the soldiers on the front lines of World War II had reported how unbearable the boredom was when nothing was happening. Plus, it's been instilled into us to stick together in times of hardship by the very nature. So, realizing that it wasn't a good idea to spend my days alone, I decided to pay a visit to the only first. friend I had within these walls, Nikita, who lived on the fifth floor. We'd been buddies since the day I moved in. He noticed me when I was entering my apartment and invited me for some tea. He was a swell guy, around my age, and was a casual tabletop gamer. We'd spent many evenings playing Monopoly and Jackal in the past with him and his girlfriend.

It was her who opened the door, and I instantly recognized from the look on her face something was very wrong Nikita was staying at his friend's home the night before it all started Natasha explained he was supposed to come home in the morning we took a day off for Friday and we were supposed to go out of town but he didn't make it in time she didn't cry

though looking at her eyes I realised that she had for many hours I could tell that she could use my support so I invited myself in over a cup of tea she shared with me that she was feeling scared for him. She was afraid that he was close to the building when the siren started wailing, and that she had nightmares where black hands were dragging him into darkness.

She shared with me that she had heard that someone couldn't get in on Friday morning and that she was afraid that it was him. So I reassured her that it wasn't the case. As I was there, I heard the victim's voice, and I would be able to tell if it was Nikita. That brought her some relief, but, She was still stressed. I can't sleep very well since then, she told me.

I wake up in the night, hearing footsteps above. I keep hoping that it's him, but... I know that it's not the case. On my way back from Natasha, I met the man who had claimed that he was a professional welder. He was carrying a box of tea to his neighbours. Curiosity got the better of me, so I struck a conversation with him, hoping to learn

if something about those welds could tell him something about the welder. It's all over the place, he informed me. The world's mostly fine, so I can tell that whoever did it knew what he was doing. But they were really messed up in other spots, especially at the corners. And there was a lot of slug left. Whoever did that was probably in a hurry and drunk. His hands seemed to be trembling. I can't stop thinking about it.

The perpetrator is somewhere in this building. I know it. There are four separate flights of stairs, five floors, Four apartments of each floor grouped around a stairwell, so eight apartments total. If I go by elimination, I'd be able to eventually find him. It's not like I have anything better to do at the moment. I've spent a good hour examining the door,

trying to spot some clues. All I've found is a cigarette butt that may not even belong to him. A Russian brand, Soyo's a polar, really nasty stuff, makes you cough your lungs out. I might take a look at the paint cans mounted on each flight of stairs. The improvised astrays. Maybe I'll find something this way.

Some people don't have the luxury to just kick back and pursue some personal quests like I do. They genuinely need to get out. An old man in his early 60s knocked on my door. He was looking for insulin. He'd been planning to get it from the nearby drugstore on the morning we were all locked in. During the last few days, he'd used up his last reserves and now desperately needed some.

He said that he had hoped that it would all be over before that would happen, but time was playing against him, and now he had no choice but to ask people to share their own if they had any. I didn't, but I wondered if any other tenants had, but we're choosing to hide that fact in order to save some for themselves. When I noted that I hadn't seen his face before, he informed me that he was from the next flight of some. He had to get up onto the roof to come over here when all of his neighbours told him that they didn't have any insulin on them.

I'd heard that there had been shortages of insulin in the drugstores lately. Which was probably why the old man didn't have enough stock on him. The drugstore is just across the road from our building. He complained to me. I can see it from my window. They were supposed to bring in a new batch on Friday morning. But when I came downstairs, the door had been welded shut. His last sentence intrigued me.

So I asked how early did he try to leave the building? It was 6 a.m., son, he informed me. The pharmacist told me that the truck with insulin was going to arrive at 9am, but I thought I might get in line early to make sure I get enough. This has left me very heartbroken, but it also gave me a clue. The perpetrator must have finished what he was doing before 6am. And if that old man in need of insulin was able to get up onto the roof, surely the mysterious perpetrator could do the same

that would allow him to weld all the doors shut from within perhaps he was even him who was waking up Natasha at night or maybe someone else I didn't want to jump to the most horrible conclusion right away if something was crawling on the roof it wouldn't miss its chance to go inside the building unless it is already here hiding in one of the apartments

There were talks that we could make a break for it, make a rope out of bed sheets, hang it from the window, and then get down from the second floor's window, one by one, and then head to the other side of town. We were acting like a group. Today was the day we were going to set this plan in motion, but it didn't come to be. Last night, I awoke from a sudden sound. When I opened my eyes, it was already over, but I knew what I'd heard. The scream, the howl, similar to the one that beast produced, only somewhat different. I lay in the dark with my eyes open, waiting for it to repeat, but it was only silence. I heard footsteps above.

It seemed that I wasn't the only one who'd been woken up by it. Getting up to my feet, I glanced at my phone. It was 3 a.m. I tried going back to sleep, but I couldn't keep my eyes gone. closed. The howl, the implications of it were keeping me awake. Deciding that I'm not going to sleep anyway, I got up and headed for the balcony. Oh, hey there, my neighbour, Maxim startled me. His balcony was a few metres away from mine, and he also decided to go out for a smoke. Even though it was a November night, he was wearing only his underpants.

You heard that too, he pointed at the far. with a cigarette. I nodded. Yeah, you think it's back? Didn't sound like it. Maxim confirmed my suspicions. It sounded different, you know, like a different breed or something. Yeah, I thought so too. You're passing me one, I asked Maxim as he threw me the entire pack. Take it, you might need all of them. Before taking the cigarette, I glanced at the pack. So you're Apollo My curiosity spiked But I quenched it

I didn't want to think about that at the moment We smoked in silence for some time Then Maxim spoke again Everything's in chaos in this building Everyone is scared We ought to do something about it Like what? I wondered I don't know yet

Maxim shook his shoulders but it's our responsibility. As men, you get me, we have to. He fell silent as a branch broke somewhere below. Something was moving down there. I only looked in time to see something big entering the forest, and my blood ran cold.

He was standing there throughout all of our conversations, and neither me nor Maxim noticed it. We were merely chatting as the beast below was biding its time, listening to our voices. Holy, have you seen it? Maxim loudly whispered. I didn't, I stuttered, still shocked that the creature we've been hiding from

for the last few days, the one that had crushed a man's windpipe with its jaws, was mere meters away from me. Hold on, I'll light it up. I searched my pockets for a phone, pulled it out, turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the forest. At the very next,

moment, I shuddered and dropped it, catching it at the very last moment. I was not ready to see something like that. The phone's flashlight was not particularly powerful, so the cone of light quickly dissipated. And yet, some of the photons had found their ways between the branches deep into the forest to reflect from the beast's lone giant eye, the size of a small platter. And they travelled back to me. At that short moment, I was unwilling. to participate in a staring contest with it.

Something told me that I was the first man to do so and walk away to tell about it. So now we know that it never left. It was always there, but hiding its time. It's not leaving. And neither are we. People are back to their apartments, and the stairwell is mostly empty.

On my way to Natasha, some old woman opened a door to give me a death stare. Why the hell are you stalking around here? Everybody's tense as it is. They don't need you creeping around here making noise. Today, Maxim knocked on my door. He told me that all able men were organising into a militia and offered me to join him.

I decided it's best to agree. If all able men were grouping up, I'd be wise to stick with them, even if it could mean that I'd be the building's first line of defence. Plus, I'd be able to keep my eyes on Maxim. The beast has become more stealthy. We don't hear its roars anymore, but sometimes, after spending hours looking outside the windows,

I can see it lurking behind the branches in the forest. I'm convinced that it came from the forest now. It feels like at home there, spending the majority of its time there, surfacing only to take a glance at us, to check if we're still there. My fridge is already empty. Even with me rationing the food,

it ran out much quicker than I expected. Luckily, I still love my grains and potatoes. Most of the old people don't seem to be complaining. I can understand why. With them surviving on their pension, they learned how to stretch the food until the next month. Plus, they are old, and their knees are weak and brittle. They can't afford to go out for groceries every day,

so they wait until they learn about some sail somewhere and go there to stock up for the month even if said sale is on the other side of town they are probably stocked up for a few months ahead I can't stop thinking about it the tap water started to taste funny too I'm glad I filled my bathtub to be ready for something like that some people are warning everyone not to drink it

and I hear all kinds of rumours as to why we shouldn't from it having some drugs mixed into it to being poisonous to take care of everyone personally I don't think it's anything like that the pipes had probably come bad over the last week since they weren't looked after Maxim has started organising the militia so far it's very small and we patrolled

only our flight of stairs and the roof but he started to try and convince people from the neighbouring ones to join us as well he sounds very convincing and I can see why people are joining him. He gives him back the illusion of control. Even though we don't have anything except for makeshift weapons,

like sharpened brooms, knives, or, in my case, a hatchet for meat. People are now less scared to leave their apartments again. They trust us. I guess it reminds them of the old times when volunteer militias on the streets that looked after the neighbourhood were a common thing. However, not everyone is willing to join his course.

The furthest flights of stairs to the right gave us a rather cold shoulder when we descended from the roof to tell them about our idea. We were greeted by a bunch of men. Some of them were obviously drunkards, with their faces red and swollen from constant drinking, while the others had prison tattoos on them. All of them reeks of alcohol and the sounds of Blatniak, a Russian music genre that consisted mostly about obscene ballads about criminal life played in the background. Somewhere, far in the distance, I'd heard metal clanking. I didn't pay much attention to it then. Their leader, a man with gold teeth and a naked torso, exposing a tattoo of an orthodox church, spat to the ground when he heard of us.

Trying to play coppers ear, he said with a fake grin, making sure to show us his every tooth. Look at that one, guys, he pointed at me, so young and already trash. The crowd behind him half-heartedly laughed. I felt a chill running down my spine. The looks in their eyes were dangerous. It was like staring into the eye of that beast again. It's for the greater good, Maxim said, staring at the man. We were all in danger and we need to stick together.

We can look after ourselves, the man replied, pulling a gun from behind his belt for a moment. We don't need anyone snooping around either. Now scrimmed back to your corner, your bunch of it. I felt Maxim's hand on my shoulder. He was tugging at me, letting me know that it was time to go. I felt sick that the man could talk like that to us and get away with it, but there was nothing I could do. Bring some girls next time, one of the men shouted as we were leaving,

and the crowd laughed. Well, Maxim said on our way back, it seems we have a hatter there. When he met my confused gaze, he explained, It's the place where the criminals gather After they have served their sentence to celebrate Seems like a bunch of them got caught here with us And they don't seem like it affected them

They seem to be parting all day long Which means, soon they will be out of food I don't envy their neighbours Maxim is a nice guy I'm not sure if he's the mysterious welder Who had locked us all in The only claw I have is the brand of cigarettes he gave me And it's a stretch to think

that is the only one in the entire building who smokes them. While they are not exactly common, I'd seen people smoke them plenty of times. I've tried talking to him about what he thinks about the identity of the welder. Who could he be, and why did he do that? And while he was talking, I was looking to his face to spot something. If you were to get nervous, then it would be a dead giveaway. But his face remains straight the entire time,

and he even got some joy out of speculating about who could. it be and what were their motives? Either he was a very good liar, or it wasn't him. After that, Maxim had me check the basement to see whether we could escape through the sewers, or if somebody could find its way in through them. Truth be told, I was scared to go down there. The concrete walls covered in moss and cobwebs, stretching from wall to wall, weren't exactly reassuring.

But what really scared me, with a tiny window, along the walls. They were too small to crawl through. I would barely be able to fit my head in if I tried, but I was still afraid that something could find its way in. The basement ran under all of the building, with all flights having a door leading down there, so it was hard to find the hatch that led down to the sewers.

When I finally found it in the far corner of the basement, I experienced the mix of emotions. It was also welded shot, which meant that nothing could get in through it, but also that nothing could get out. Over the next few days, we started hearing gunshots in the distance. It sounded like a machine gun,

and I doubted anyone in our town has one. Maybe the police of a few AK-47s. Sometimes it almost sounded like there was a war going on in the distance. It filled me with hope that we were going to be rescued soon. But I can't help but wonder, What are they shooting at for so long? I doubted that the beast outside could soak in so much ammunition. Aside from that, not much happened during that time.

One day followed another, and I spent the majority of my time with Natasha. We could both use some distraction from the world around us. I was at her apartment yesterday, playing Monopoly with her, when we heard confused shouts coming from outside. Looking out the window that was overlooking our town, I felt my heart skip a beat. Someone was running away from the house. I squinted my eyes and my heart sank even more.

I recognised who it was. It was the old man who'd been looking for insulin. I opened the window and looked down, already knowing what I was looking for. Sure enough, it was there. A rope made out of bed sheets hanging from one of the windows on the second floor. In desperation, the man must have decided to make a break for it and rushed towards the drugstore to get the insulin he needed to survive. It was either that or a slow and painful death. He disappeared behind the crone of trees, and a few seconds later, I heard the glass break.

He must have shattered the window of the drugstore to get inside. The sound echoed across the empty streets, and Natasha shuddered in fear. I knew what she was going through. If that creature that stalked the house for the past week heard him, it would no doubt come over, seeking its next prey. A few minutes later, I saw him running towards the window, clutching something in his hand. Even from a distance, I could see how pale he was. He was out in the open, away from the safety of our walls.

And for a moment, I felt respect for the man rise up in my chest. He defied the odds and refused to die doing nothing. He approached the windows when we heard it. The moaning scream of the beast. Somewhere very close. The man grabbed the rope and started climbing up. He made it about halfway when his weak arms gave out and he fell to the ground. Old and frail, he was unlikely to make it,

even if he wasn't malnourished and weakened by his disease. He slowly got up, rubbing his hip, and tried climbing up again when the creature showed its head around the corner. I could finally see it with my own eyes and it was beyond my wildest expectations It was clear that whatever it was It was not from this world Its front legs were thick and burly

Ending with pores with long fingers That looked disturbingly similar to human fingers The hind legs were much shorter And once again parodying human nature Looked very similar to human legs all of his body was covered in black, long, thick fur, except for its head, which was bald, exposing its grey skin. And, at the centre of his almost human-looking head,

a single eye wildly rotated, seeking out its target. It stopped on the old man, and the beast let out a low growl. The man was not giving up trying to crawl up, but with his busted hip he could barely crawl one meter above the ground and his arms alone could not pull him up the beast must have noticed that

because it didn't rush at him instead it took his time approaching him as if taunting the man's efforts to escape it when he was just five meters away the man jumped back to the ground and tried to escape but the creature covered the distance separating them in one quick leap he raised this pore above him

clenching his finger us into a fist, and I looked away. But I still heard the wet splatter when its fist descended into the man's head like a hammer, killing him instantly. At least he didn't suffer like the one before him. When I carefully looked out again, the creature and the man were both gone. The only proof they had been there was a long bloody red trail leading around the corner, towards the forest. I thought that the day was eventful enough. But, I was a little bitful enough. But I was a little bit of Last night, something else happened. I woke up from the sound that had haunted me for so long that I wanted to know so much about it.

The sound of someone welding something. I jumped out of bed and listened. I was not sure where the sound was coming from, but when I looked at the window, I noticed the light coming from the roof above, somewhere from the direction where the criminals resided. I rushed out of my apartment, just in time to see Maxim leave his own. He was wearing nothing but boxes,

and I could see in his eyes that he was in a rush. Just like me, he wanted to learn the identity of a mysterious welder. When we got onto the roof, the welder was already gone, but not before finishing what he had been doing. The door leading down to the criminals was now reinforced with a makeshift cage gate made out of stairs railings. At that moment, I realised that there's some.

sound I'd heard before, the clanking of metal, was probably the welder working on the railings to give them the necessary shape. The mysterious welder that I'd been chasing for the past week was one step ahead of me. I now knew where he lived, and I couldn't get there. And even if I did find my way in, I'd have to deal with the criminals first. They'd let me know before that it was not welcome there. The burning question, however, was not who he was. What bugged me the most was Why did he do it? What made him install the gate on the door leading to the roof?

Perhaps there was something that we didn't know about. I thought that would be it as far as bad news went. But this morning, we found one of the tenants dead on the stairwell. There were no wounds on his body, but he was foaming at his mouth and his skin had the nasty shade of purple. I recognised his face. It was the man who on the first day had said that he had worked as a welder in the past. His grieving wife told us that he had no history of heart diseases, which led us to a single conclusion.

He, who was poisoned. It seems that the tap water, indeed, contains poison in it. Since then, we don't drink tap water anymore. I'm also convinced that they left us electricity to lure all of the creatures to us. They want our problem, name. namely the problem of having too many witnesses to take care of itself. Spread the message, people. We're here. We're still alive.

There's something outside my door. Something's lurking at the stairwell, going up and down all five floors. I was alerted to its presence by a scream one late evening. Someone must have come out for a smoke and may be socialised with his acquaintances. And they saw it. There are no sounds of struggle, nor any yelps of pain, only terror. I'm now glad that nature instilled that need to cry out when you're faced with something horrifying, something so unexplainable, it rocks your understanding of the world around you. That way, you can warn your pack about the danger.

Even if you don't survive, the others learn to stay wary. Your death becomes a noble sacrifice, a meaningful event when you succumb to your terror in your last night. moments, and I barely managed to squeeze my own scream of terror when I'd realized that the shriek that creature admitted was not the one I'd heard before. It was not the prime or yell that had haunted us for the last weeks. This was something new, something that somehow managed to find its way into our apartment complex, despite the precautions that had been taken. I spent half an hour looking at the eye hole, trying to catch a glimpse of it. The dim lightbulb outside provided just enough lighting to see what was going on.

At one point, something suddenly obscured the light, and I heard a pitter-patter across my door. A second of confusion was followed by a terrifying realisation and jumped back from the door trying to hold back my screamer surprise and shock. Whatever it was, it just crawled across my door on its many legs. It could crawl on the walls. This means that the door to the roof is now a huge opening in our defences. In the morning, me and the other guys from our militia carefully stepped out to take a look at the damages it had done. We found a bloody spot on the fourth floor and a long blood trail which led to the roof.

There, it led us towards the edge of the roof where it ended. The creature not just found its way inside our house, it killed one of ours and then dragged him off to its nest. Since there are two creatures now, I feel I should start giving them names. ape demon or the ape sounds like a fitting description for the one that has been terrorising us for the last few days and on the next day everyone unanimously started calling the newcomer the crawler so if the ape is the joggernaut that watches the streets the crawler is the infiltrator that sneaks in and attacks us where we live the demon ape and the crawler god just two weeks ago i wouldn't have thought that those are the words i'd use with a serious face

Since that event We've put a lock on the doors that lead to the roof I think it was long overdue It's just We never thought we'd need to do that I pray that it will suffice to keep it out And I make sure to have my curtains closed at all times I'd hate to one day look outside

And see that thing crawl across my window And I'd hate for it to see me inside An easy prey ready for consumption I'm more and more concerned with what's our end game. There is no chance that the water in the pipes could have gone so bad in just over a week that it would become so toxic.

Bacterias don't kill you in one night. They don't make you foam at your mouth. They don't make your skin purple. The water has some toxins in it now, which tells me that to our government, we are no more than unwanted eyewitnesses. If we make it to the other part of town where the gunshots are heard,

we won't be rescued. We will meet a firing squad. The food's becoming a problem. Yesterday I heard someone walking around, asking the neighbours if they had some salt. Just a cooking salt to make their boring dish more pleasurable. I heard three of my neighbours tell them to get lost. But who am I to judge? When they rung my bell, I didn't open the door.

I know that it's just salt they were looking for, but you can never be too careful. Perhaps it was their way of gauging the situation. perhaps they'll think that if I have salt to spare I have plenty of other food inside and that I'm a viable target perhaps I'm just talking nonsense two days ago I carefully checked the door in the basement that led to the flight of stairs where the bandits live

it was locked on the hanging lock but neither I nor any other tenant hurt the welding which means that if anything it could be broken down I need to get the welder This personal quest of mine That started out of boredom and curiosity Has grown into a necessity

And prerequisite for my survival They must know something They're calling all the shots And where everybody goes and what parts of the building we have access to And they might have the tools to get us all out of here I've thought about it My only chance of making it

Is getting a torch or bussoor from him Whichever he happens to have Cut the hatch that leads to the sewers open and escape through it. It's probably a maze down there, so if I make a wrong call and where to get out of it and come face to face with the military

or the beast outside, I'm done for. But it's better than pushing my lock by trying to escape through the surface. The only problem is getting to him before the bandits he lives with get to us. The cage gate that he installed on the roof entrance has latches and a lock,

which means that he can be opened by them, which means that it is they who decide who enters their flight of stairs, which means that they pretty much have a fortress within the fortress. I fear that when those doors open, they all come out, not to cooperate, not to beg for food, but to hunt, to prey on the weak. And so far, we have no solid way of fighting them back. But the crawler and the bandits aren't our only problems.

Yesterday, the ape learned that it's strong. enough to rip the cages off the windows of the first floor. Worst, it was the apartment in the same stairwell as mine that it chose to attack. I heard its grunt outside, the screaming of terrified people downstairs, the weeping metal that was being torn apart. I don't know what the people downstairs did to provoke the beast. Perhaps they thought that the cages would protect them and didn't have their curtains closed. Perhaps they saw the creature and decided to indulge themselves in a staring contest with it.

I don't know. I didn't ask. One of the tenants who lived there managed to escape. I could see the terror in her eyes when I walked out to my apartment to see what was going on, just in time to have a rush past me. But I knew that someone else was less lucky. I heard the screams of a man who the ape pinned down. I heard the loud thumps when his fists collided with a man's flesh.

And you know that thing where you can tell where the sound is coming from, by how much it is distorted by the echo? Well, judging by how it all sounded, I realised with terror that the screams were coming from that apartment on the first floor. And the woman fleeing, fleeing in terror, didn't close the door on a way out, which meant that when the ape would be done with a man downstairs, it would be free to enter the stairwell and roam all five floors. Perhaps it wouldn't even be able to leave if it got lost here. I had to do something quick.

He was very risky to go down there and try to close the door, But I knew that if I didn't do that at that moment, I'd be dead within a few days. It wasn't bravery that pushed me to such a reckless action. It was desperation. I was facing a paradox. Stay safe and die or risk your life and live. And my body was telling me it wanted to live some more. I carefully made my way down to the first floor and took a peek at the door.

Just as I suspected, it was wide open. I could hear the ape munched. on its already silent prey, but I could also see the key in its keyhole. Carefully, try my best not to make a noise, I inch towards the door. I wanted to scream in terror from the fact that my steps weren't completely soundless, but I guess the creature didn't hear it over the sound of the bones breaking under its bite. It was now right next to the door. One more step and I'd be inside the apartment.

The ape was now mere meters away from me, somewhere, around the corner. If I messed up, I'd have a second, maybe two, to say my prayers. There was no going back now. Carefully, I slid the key out of its keyhole. On its way out, it clanked. The munching stopped.

It took a step. I slammed the door shut and started shoving the key into the keyhole, but my trembling hands couldn't pull that off. A mothwood roar came from within the apartment, and I felt a massive body slam into the door from the other side. Luckily, the door seemed to be reinforced. The extenants made sure to protect themselves from burglars, as with them living on the first floor, they were prime targets.

My legs were twitching from all the adrenaline in them, begging me to run away. I knew that if the creature somehow turned the door handle, even by accident, it would break out that instant, leaving me no chance to survive. I took a pause, took a deep breath, and then slipped the key in. A moment later, I turned it, locking it.

it. The beast was now subsided. He left the apartment through the window a few hours later, after it was done raging and consuming the man. After that, all of the tents who lived in the first floor moved in with their neighbours above. They brought their food supplies with them, and I'm glad to say that people upstairs didn't mind them. They realized that it would be heartless to let them live on the first floor or hang out on the stairwell where they were easy prey. Natasha had an old man move in with her as well. Still, even though our casualties were minimal, we'd taken a huge hit. Our home, our submarine submerged in all of this madness, had taken another hit and sunk even deeper.

I am currently thinking about how to find the welder and get him out of there without alerting any thugs. The roof is not an option, but there's still a basement door that can be broken. I'll discuss that with Maxin tomorrow. It's time to act. Time. To get out of here. It's really weird how everything is both extremely tense and dull here. My life is in constant danger and we don't have a solid plan yet.

But I can't think about it all the time. As weird as it sounds, I'm tired of constantly thinking about my chances of survival. And when monsters are not crawling across your window, you don't have that sense of urgency. You don't get anything at all. It feels like you exist only to react to them, interact with them, and maybe eventually end up as their lunch. Over the past few days, I've received a lot of advice from Florida. You guys have it rough there.

I still wish I'd rather be there. At least it has colours. Everything here is so grey, I want to poke my eyes out. We've prepared for food and water shortages, but there were things we didn't consider. For starters, there are two dead bodies on our building, and they are starting to rot. When the guy who got poisoned died, his widow kept his body in their apartment. She dressed him up in nice clothes and lay him down on their sofa. We even suspected that she spent some of a water to wash his body.

But two days ago, she came to us asking for help. He was starting to swell up and smell. It was a weird sight, seeing him lying there in a tranquil pose, arms on his chest and that tidy sofa under a painting of a river. He had so swollen and purple. It seemed that the toxin continued its work on him. The smell was unbearable. In the first few minutes I got there, it was making me want to vomit,

and knowing that he was a human body, something that was a living individual just some time ago, was making it even more disturbing. She wanted us to take him to the basement, but Maxim objected. His smell will attract the predators. They'll want to break in even more if they smell a stench. We need to throw him outside or leave him on the roof.

You can't, she whispered, and her eyes widened. It's not Christian-like, he deserves a burial. She leapt to her husband's carcass and raised her hands, letting everyone know that she won't let us take him. You can't, she repeated in a shrill voice. I won't let you. Get the hell out of here. I won't let you do it to him.

We silently surrounded her. Nobody wanted to force her away, but we knew that it had to be done. The man's dead body was compromising the safety of the living. Maxim wordlessly grabbed her by the wrist. She screamed and tried to break free, but Maxim wouldn't budge. When she realized that she couldn't overpower him, she switched to defence, clawing at him with a free hand. Maxim didn't defend himself, choosing to stokely endure her assault,

giving her the opportunity to take it all out on him, and only tilting his head back so that she couldn't claw his eyes out. Take the body, throw out of the window, he said, before dragging the woman to the kitchen so that she wouldn't get in our way. In a desperate last-ditch attempt to resist, she grabbed onto the door, but Maximia yanked her away from it. Her grit was strong enough to leave scratches on the door's wooden surface, and one of her nails was left, edged into it.

We wrapped his body in a blanket. It was easier to carry him that way, both physically and mentally. We carried him to the roof. One of us said some prayers, and we tossed him over the edge. We didn't even look how he fell, only hearing the heavy thud when his body collided with the ground and rushed to safety before the crawler showed up. Looking back, I don't feel guilty about what we did,

but I feel guilty for not feeling guilty if that makes sense I should have felt something a few hours later when I looked at the window the body was already gone the second body the one of the man who got mauled in his apartment was left where it was

we knew that the door to the apartment could tip off the intruders so we didn't bother to do anything about it I've talked to Maximum about the welder and my plan to get his tools He liked my idea, but warned me that there was nothing we could do at the moment. Sneaking in would be dangerous, and we didn't know where to look. It's dangerous to confront them, he told me.

They are armed and they can overreact to us entering their territory. Maybe we should just let them know about our plan. That way they will cooperate. I reluctantly agreed with him. Back then, we didn't know that the time for negotiation was already up. that those scumbags had already made up their mind. Because when yesterday, I walked up to the fifth floor to Killsentai with Natasha, I found, to my horror, that the door to her apartment was wide open,

and there were signs of struggle taking place in a hallway. I suspected the worst, but I also didn't abandon hope. I rushed through all of the rooms, but she was nowhere to be found. Only the old man from the first floor that she'd taken in was lying on the floor of the guest room. A small pool of blood formed under his left side. He was still alive when I turned him over. He didn't answer my questions as to where Natasha was, instead just whispering. I'm sorry, young man. It is all our fault. The sins of the fathers.

I didn't have time to heed his cryptic words. I needed to help him or he'd die from bleeding. But I knew that Natasha could be dying somewhere at the very moment, perhaps somewhere very close. I rushed back to the hallway. trying to find any clue as to where she could be. And sure enough, there were a few drops of blood on the floor, leading outside and toward the door to the roof. It was dangerous to enter the roof on my own,

but I didn't care. I rushed outside, looking around. Nothing but a small, barely noticeable trail of blood droplets. I feared that it would lead me to the edge of the roof, but instead, it was heading towards the cage door at the end of it. the one that led to the bandits hideout. The cage was already locked. I started shaking it and screaming for them to let Natasha go.

Reckless of me, I know. If I'd stay there for a few more minutes, I'd no doubt attract the crawler and be done with. But one of the bandits emerged from the darkness beyond the cage and shrug his pistol at me. Keep it civil. Your girlfriend is in good hands. We'll take care of her. After all, how does the saying go?

If you love her, let her go. Isn't that right? He gloated. I spat in his face. When he lifted his gun, I turned around and ran away. I heard a few shots behind me, but luckily they missed me, and the man must have decided not to spend more ammo on me. I had to act quick.

I didn't even want to think about what they were going to do to her. Every minute counted. As I was running down the stairs, I was calling for men to gather up, hollering at the top of my lap. lungs. Surprisingly, people started leaving their apartments to see what was going on. They could hear the urgency in my voice and didn't want to miss an important announcement. Never had I been so glad to see the faces of my neighbours before. Just two minutes later, I told them what had happened.

Two women rushed to the fifth floor to help the old man. Some militia you are, some old woman from the back row said, can't even protect us in our homes. shove it, I yelled in a direction, and surprisingly there were no witty retorts. Hey kiddo, what's going on? Maxim stepped through the crowd to see what was going on. I told him what had happened. His eyes turned bloodshot and his fists trembled with fury. Those scumbags, that settles it.

He hollered. Men, gather up. We're going to take a back. He confidently hurried towards the roof. I followed, and I could see that the other men, even those who were reluctant, followed after us. We headed straight to the door on the roof. The same door, with just a few minutes before, I'd almost been shot. Only now, I wasn't alone.

There are at least ten men with me now. It didn't matter if we probably couldn't break through the gates. What mattered was that when ten angry men show up at your doorstep, you listen to what they have to say. open up maxim shouted through the cage grate open up or i swear i'm going to break these down what's all the ruckus the same man who had been shooting at me before walked up to the cage he cast me an angry gaze before looking away while he looked confident his earliest smugness was gone give us back the girl or we'll feed you to those monsters outside maxim hollered the bandit raised his hands in a mocking gesture of fear. Easy, Pops. We just took a girl for a night out. No harm in that, right. Maxim kicked the cage in fury, and the man on the other side jumped in surprise. It was now clear that he was feeling tense and his calmness was just an act. Now, if you think we can't tear these down, you're very mistaken, Maxim shouted.

Calm down, Pops, I was just joking, okay? We could all use a bit of humor these days, the man said, doing his best to do. keep smiling. I'll go look for her. He disappeared. I was getting more and more anxious. Who knew how long she'd been in there? Who knew what they'd been doing to her? Every minute counted. We heard some arguing coming from within. The men were shouting at each other, but due to the echo, I couldn't make out what they were saying. Thankfully, I didn't hear Natasha's screams. The shouting subsided. Then, a few minutes later, the man walked up to the cage separating us.

I could see Natasha behind him. She had a nasty bruise under her eye and dried up blood on her lip, indicating that she must have been bleeding from her nose. Thankfully, her clothes were intact, with no signs of tear, and there's a strange spark in her eyes that seemed almost out of place. A spark of enthusiasm and determination. Here's your girl, the man grunted. giving her a push towards us as she was passing him. We didn't do much to her, see? Now scram. And her food? Maxim inquired.

What are you talking about? It was a down payment for keeping her safe with us, was the man's reply as he closed the gate to walk away. Maxim grunted, and I could see the fury in his eyes. To him, it wasn't over. He wasn't going to let it slide. Something unknown in the distance roared. We hurried back to safe.

How are you? Did they? I asked Natasha, once we were inside the building. But she raised her hand to stop me. I'm fine. Don't worry about it. Their leader got scared when he saw that asshole bring them to me. He suspected something like this would happen. How did they get you? I asked her another question. But she shook ahead. They lured me out, pretending to be one of the tenants from the next flight of stairs. Tell me, though, looking for some aspirin. It doesn't matter. She lowered a voice to a whisper. I found him. I found the welder.

You did? I was genuinely surprised at such a development. Yes, he lives on the third floor, apartment 73. They told me to go hang out with him while they were deciding what to do with me. It seems they're taking good care of him in return for his help. I don't know what happened to the other tenants, though. He didn't want to talk about them. So, did you talk to him?

him? Did he tell you why he did it? Why did he weld us in here? I asked with anticipation. Yes. She looked around if anyone else could hear. The men were still descending from the roof and going straight inside her apartment to help with the old man who was still tended to inside. He says he panicked. He was hunting in the forest for some game when he saw them. He says there are dozens, maybe hundreds of them. They are migrating somewhere and we are on the sidewalk of their path. so he ran home and barricaded himself and all of us of course that was before he learned about the bandits say as they moved in just two nights before but why didn't he run away i wondered why not evacuate natasha shook her head he can't he has a son and he he's completely bedridden paralyzed below the waist and he's too weak to carry him no elevators too. She grunted and shook ahead. He thought it would all be over in a day or two, but

he miscalculated. I imagined the situation the man had found himself in, trapping not only himself, but his helpless child and everyone else in this hell. Even though I wanted to feel angry at him, I just couldn't. I told him about your plan, Natasha interrupted my train of thought. He says it makes sense And he's willing to lend us his tools and skills If we find a way to sneak him and his son out They guard him well There are constant patrols on the fourth and second floor

Of course They mostly drink and listen to music But They have guns I wanted to say something But then Maxim approached Natasha And put a hand on a shoulder You're right girl

Yes I'm fine Natasha said leaning back She didn't like the father in Maxim's eyes. Good, good, he said, staring into the distance. I have a daughter, you know, younger than you, but still.

He gave Natasha's shoulder another shake. They will never do this to you again, girl, he proclaimed, and I can almost hear the lava of pure anger building in his throat. Or anyone else for that matter. I've made a decision. We need to strike them first.

If you have pests, you've got to smoke them out. He looked Natasha in the face, and the sight of a wounds made him grit his teeth. Tomorrow we'll burn their entire stairwell down. I barely have enough strength to write, and my memories of the events that transpired a week ago are still fuzzy. But let's just say one thing. I'm still here, still inside this cursed building, weaker than ever. Maxim wasn't joking that he was going to burn down the entire stairwell,

and I and some others tried to convince him not to do it. We reminded him that we could catch on fire as well, that there were at least two innocent people in there, one of whom was a young man who wouldn't be out to escape. But none of it mattered to him. We just have to start the fire big enough to make them move toward the roof, he said, maniacly nodding to his own words. We'll be waiting for them there, and once they emerge,

he made a slashing motion with his hand. After that, we can put the fire out. He would try to. I reminded him. Fire is no joke. Who knows how big it may grow? Well, we'll do our best. He reassured me in an impatient tone.

But I wasn't going to let it slide. And what about the welder and his son? I reminded him. They are just prisoners there, and they won't be able to escape the fire or the smoke. Are you ready to burn them down? I looked him in the eyes, trying to guilt him into abandoning his idea.

But Maxim didn't look away. Instead, he looked me straight in the eye. and I could see that the flames of his anger were getting wilder. How can you be so sure that they are just prisoners in there? Because they said so. Why do they make such a convenient cage door for them? Hmm? Why did they lock us in here?

Because his son, I tried to explain, but Maxim stopped me before I could finish. No, that's just what he says, and personally, I think he's full of crap. He didn't have to lock us all in here, all right? He could have just stayed in his apartment and be done with it. So, unless you have a better plan, we're going to do it my way, he said before turning around to leave.

I do, actually, I said to his back. He turned around and nodded for me to continue talking. My plan was crazy and dangerous, potentially even more so than the one Maxim offered, and way more complicated. But in my plan, the threat could be contained, or Maxim was basically offering to burn us all down. So, after listening to what I had to offer, He agreed to go with it.

At least we can still burn it all down if your plan goes wrong, he grunted. You start tonight. I'll find you a few good men who can assist you. If your plan doesn't work by sunrise, we go with mine. I was too anxious to stay alone, so I decided to spend the rest of the day in Natasha's place. Her apartment was crowded. A few women were helping her tend to the old man. He was breathing heavily and his face was pale, but his bleeding had stopped and he was conscious again.

Young man, thank you, he said, wincing from the pain at the same time. It was obvious that talking was causing him quite a lot of pain. I didn't do anything, I said, and frankly that was the truth. The old man was just too confused to realise what had happened, that I had abandoned him and went after Natasha, not even bothering to call for help. But he just smiled at me. So modest.

Lay still and don't waste your strength, one of the women told him. You're too weak for that. He didn't pay her words any attention. I'm sorry, young man, he whispered weakly. And to you all, I'm sorry as well. It was our hubris to expect anything else. He's delusional, don't mind his words.

one of the older ladies warned me and Natasha For the first time in my life I am quite sane, thank you The man denied with some degree of irritation Before wincing from pain Listen He talked to me again There's no forgiving us for what we'd done

It was a difficult time The entire world was our enemy But still We thought that we'd failed But we were thinking globally We were only thinking about them As if there were weapons aimed at the enemy We never thought they'd be so effective against the civilians, against the run people if they ever broke out.

We underestimated them. We thought they were already gone. Quit your ramblings, you odd fool, and you two, go, the old woman told me and Natasha. Can't you see you agitating him? We need him to rest. This is my apartment, Natasha objected, but the woman scowled. You'll be back here tomorrow. Go hang out to your boyfriend's place.

She nodded at me. He's not... Okay. Natasha gave in, seeing that there was no use arguing. I nodded towards at all. She nodded back, and we headed out. Heed my words, there will be more. You need to get out of here while you still can,

or they'll trample you, along with everyone else. The last words of the old man sounded. Like an ominous warning. It was in the deep of night when we still. started executing my plan. The first thing we needed was the law. It was tough finding a piece of meat. Nobody wanted to share,

and when they heard why we needed it, they'd spin a finger at the temple to show us what they thought about our idea. But after a few hours of searching, we finally found what we were looking for. And then, it was time for the next part of the plan. We brought it to the basement with us and headed toward the furthest door,

the one that led to the stairwell, Maxim wanted to burn down so much. The door must have been locked on the hanging lock from the other side, but it was old and wooden. There was a way to get past it. The trick was to do it completely silently.

We spent a good three hours trying to drill through the wood with a wimble we borrowed from an old carpenter, making one crank at a time, listening all the while to the noises on the other side. In the complete silence, we could hear the thugs who were

an overwatch drinking and talking, and the nauseating hoarse voice of chants and singer they were listening to still rings in my ears. But at any moment, the music would stop and their tone could change from cheerful to worried, which would mean only one thing. We were busted. Throughout our operation, I could think about one thing only. Our failure meant the death of the welder. Even if we would miraculously retrieve his tools from the ashes, that price was. was too high to pay. After two hours, the Wimble's drill finally reached the nail, which held the lock hinge in place, and we spent the next hour working around it, making turns, trying to make the hole bigger,

until finally the nail was separated from the wood. The hanging lock was just hanging from the doorframe now, and the door could be opened. I took off my boots and entered the stairwell. From then on, I was on my own. It only made sense to me to be the one to bear all the risks. After all, it was my plan. The men were just one floor above me. I could hear them with perfect clarity.

One wrong step, one noise, and they'd come rushing down toward me. It was time for the greatest gamble of my life. I reached out toward one of the doors. Unlocked. Of course. Why would they lock it if they left it? They knew that the first floor was dangerous, that the ape could break down the grates on the windows. And so did I.

I headed towards the kitchen, open the window and put a piece of meat on the floor. Then, carefully, taking a knife out of the drawer, I slipped my left palm and drew some blood, raining a few drops onto the piece of meat. The plan was now set in motion. I didn't know how well the ape could smell, but I banked on the fact that by sunrise, it would be tempted enough to break down the grates and enter the stairwell, where it would quickly deal with all the bandits. I hoped that the old welder would have enough sense to lock the doors before that happened.

Looking over my trap one last time, I headed toward the exit. I made sure to leave the door open. That way, either the creature would find its way out of the apartment on its own, or the bandits would hear it breaking in, which would prompt them to come over and take a look at what was going on and drawing it out. I headed toward the basement door I only to find it wide open The hammer, nails, a piece of furniture

Improvised wooden planks that we had planned to use to barricade the door afterward Were lying next to it, abandoned Weird, I thought to myself Before I heard it The pitter-batter of many legs That were getting closer with each second Coming straight out of the basement I came from The windows was all like a good

think before I turned around and ran. The windows, the tiny windows that lined the walls of the basement, were an easy way for the crawler to get in. We'd never seen it, so we had no clue whether we'd be able to sneak in. And now, it was in there, cutting me off from the safety and pinning me between a rock and a hard place. And it was approaching fast. I didn't have a lot of time to spare.

I had two options. Run back into the apartment I'd just left with a boat. bait was waiting for the ape or run up the stairs towards the bandits and hope that their shooting skills weren't great. I chose the second option. In a crisis, primates had always sought to gain elevated position or move toward their peers, and that instinct buried deep within my psyche re-emerged in the time of need. The men was so drunk and so bewildered by my sudden appearance that none of them even reached

for their gun. They just watched me with surprised eyes as I was. rushed past them toward the third floor, toward the apartment, 73. Open up, I shouted as I started furiously banging on the door. I'm Natasha's friend, open up! One floor below me, the men screamed in terror. One of the screams was cut short as a pair of mighty, jaws, mandibles, crushed the man's throat. A second later, I heard gunshots.

The men above, the ones who guarded the fourth floor, started rushing down to see what was going on. I could hear their horrid steps. In a second, they would turn around the corner and see me, trying to break into their most important prisoner's apartment. The key clanked, and the door suddenly budged. I jumped to the side and let it open, and saw the old man inside, wrinkly face, wide eyes. Hey, who the hell are you? I heard right behind me. They were just one flight of stairs away. I pushed the old man inside and jumped inside his apartment, locking the door behind me. and listening. They rushed past the door.

There were more pressing matters to take care of, one floor below. I'm Natasha's friend. I've come here to rescue you, grab your metal saw or gas torch, or whatever it is you have, and let's go. I said, quickly. But I... He interrupted me, but I stopped him with a gesture. I'll carry your son. Don't worry about it.

I... I don't have the gas torch anymore. He said, I shook my head. I couldn't have heard it right. What? I'm out of gas. I used it all up, cutting the railings for the cage on the roof, he explained.

So you don't have anything to cut through the metal? I inquired. It seemed impossible. No, no, that couldn't be right. He shook his shoulders. I'm afraid not. But you told Natasha, you have the tools, I wrote at him. I do, but they are useless.

I just... I just wanted to save my son, he explained, pointing toward the door to another room. I just wanted someone to carry him out of here. He didn't have the tools. My quest for him was pointless. I slid down the door and grabbed my head. I spent a few minutes like that, listening to the noises outside. The men rushed back to the fourth floor, shooting at the pursuer,

and, after a few minutes, the sounds of flound. fight and struggle above stopped. I had to get out. I had no reason to stay there any longer. Should any of the bandits survive, they come over to see who I was. I opened the door. Wait, you're leaving, but I can't carry him without you. The old man pleaded.

Please, I just... I walked out and closed the door behind me. I moved back to the basement carefully. Yet, at the same time, I couldn't feel any fear anymore. It all seemed pointless at that point. Two weeks I had harboured hope that I'd be able to get through the sewers, and now all hope was lost. The second floor had two corpses on it,

one of them still clutching a pistol. I wasn't thinking about my survival at the moment, but I thought that it could still come in handy in the future. I grabbed the gun and pulled it, only to realise that their hand holding it was not dead yet. The man I thought to be dead opened his eyes and looked at me. He was too weak to form words, but he had enough strength to form a scowl. He recognised me.

He knew it was me who let the crawler in. A shot rang and I tumbled down the flight of stairs, clutching my side. The pain instantly snapped him back to reality, my survival instincts coming back online. I wanted to live. I wanted to live no matter how bleak my future. looked. What if the crawler heard it? What if something else heard it? I'm losing blood. I need to hurry. My brain was producing one rush thought after another. I descended into the basement, squeezing my wound. I could barely see in the darkness, but luckily I was alone in there.

I pulled the handle of the door that led to my stairwell. Nothing. I pulled it again. It didn't budge. It wasn't that I was too weak to open it. It was locked. I looked back at the windows lining the wall and knocked on the door. I was too scared to shout for someone to open. I knocked again and heard some noises. But they weren't coming from the other side of the door. They were coming from the apartment where I left the bait.

It seemed that the ape finally took it. I heard its roar, heard the noise with which the grates were separated from the wall. and shuddered. I had nowhere to run. I was cornered. If you could smell the blood on me, I could feel that my palm was full of blood, and there was probably a trail of blood drops behind me.

My only hope was that it would be drawn towards the bloodbath in the second floor. I sat down near the door and closed my eyes. There was no point in staying alert. If anything, I had to make sure I'd make as few sounds as possible. The sounds were starting to get quiet. The last thing I heard was its footsteps as I entered the stairwell and sniffed the air. That was where I was found in the morning, lying unconscious from all the blood loss right next to the door. Thankfully, someone had found me before I froze the death.

Otherwise, you wouldn't be hearing this. Throughout last week, I was trying to recover my strength. Natasha was taking good care of me, and thankfully she found me. penicillin somewhere, so I didn't have to worry about infections. It did a trick in my digestive system, though, which was less than ideal in my situation. The bullet went clean through. Though there were two wounds on me, at least they didn't have to cut it out of me. I'm starting to regain my strength bit by bit, but with our limited food resources, it was tough. In fact, we're going to run out of food in just a few days. The tenants pulled all.

of their food and started rationing it. A surprising development for sure. But very soon, there will be none left. I heard that some men were trying to raid nearby grocery stores. Not all of them returned. They hoped that once I recover, I'll join them. I can't object to that. They've been feeding me for the last week after all.

But I can't help but think that we need to get out. Once the food runs out, will be too weak to do that. So, the next update will probably be the last one. Sorry for not writing for so long. It just seemed pointless for the longest time. But I guess I have to say goodbye. It'd be impolite to do otherwise.

Little by little, I'm beginning to walk. The strength has been coming back very slowly to me, ounce by ounce. With my poor diet My body had to cannibalize some muscle tissue In order to heal the wound It's going to leave an ugly scar too Right now I have a hole in my side Filled to the brim with scar tissue

I can't help but poke it all the time Even though it's disgusting Of course I won't be going for any food raids anytime soon I might be able to descend down the rope But to climb back While carrying a dozen kilos of food on me that's just impossible

I'll repeat the fate of that old man who couldn't get back inside so for the past week I've been lying in bed in Natasha's apartment I guess you could say it's became a hospital of sorts she takes care of both me and the old man one more potato per day for each of us she's been boiling them all the while

using the same pot of water says it'll make a nice soup when we're out of everything else Maxim and the other men tried to raid the groceries nearby But each raid gets more difficult than the last Mostly because half the time somebody doesn't return They'd taken the guns they'd found in the bandits hide out But from what I've been told they're not much use And the gunshots usually imply that someone is living out their last seconds in terror

I don't hear much about the outside except for some rumours before I was locked inside the apartment complex but now it feels like the danger lurks right beyond the door's threshold beyond our windows it feels like my fortress there used to be the whole building shrunk to fit inside Natasha's apartment

with my limited mobility I can't feel safe outside her apartment we're almost out of food and I can hear people bickering with each other more and more it seems to head in a nasty direction and each time Natasha steps out of apartment, I fear she might not return. She says that crazy things going outside, things that just a month or even two weeks ago would make my hair stand up.

But now I'm just too tired and exhausted with all this nonsense to react. I feel like the same goes for everyone else in the building. Natasha says that a mysterious human figure has been spotted right on the very verge of the forest. It signalled to the observers to come out and follow it and then disappeared in the forest. It seemed impossible for it to be one of the survivors. On another day, the tenants from one of the apartments started screaming that the voices in their heads were too loud. I believe that it was just a madness taking over if it was just one person. But all three of them?

That was very unlikely. And a few nights before, we all woke up from the stampede. hundreds of legs were rushing from the forest past our house and into the town. I could feel the building trembled from the vibrations their mighty feet were sending into the ground and the screeches of many beasts were mixing together to a point where it was hard to tell which one I'd heard before. No one dared look out the window. We were all just hoping that it all passed and let us continue living on our pointless lives.

After they'd passed, we could hear gunshots firing off in the distance, throughout the whole next day. The sounds of shots got the old man quite agitated. I've never managed to get more than a few coherent sentences at a time out of him. It seems that the physical toll on his body, as well as whatever guilt he's been feeling, has made him lose it bit by bit. He talked about a place far in the forest. He was confusing things, so I'm still not quite sure what it was.

In some stories, it's a town, and in others a base in the forest. forest. Sometimes there's a lab and sometimes is an archaeological dig. It was built by the Soviets, and it's been there long ago. But, in all stories, one word always came up, the door. He worked there as an intern. He says that our entire town was built by the Soviets precisely because of that location. It was a closed-off town, the one that wasn't on any maps, even on the secret ones. Our town was a place where all the scientists and personnel lived. He said that he got his apartment back when he was assigned to the project and was very

proud of being a homeowner at a young age. Whatever they'd been doing there, the higher-ups ended up disappointed with the results, so the project was closed and the town was declassified even before the fall of the union. He said that he'd forgotten what he's seen there, until a month ago. But now, despite decades of abandonment, something was happening there again, something that unleashed the hordes of these monsters. As the man himself said it, something on the other side has finally made contact with us, 40 years after we sent our first signal. He didn't elaborate on what the other side was, or where the beasts were coming from in such volume. Soon after, he shut himself off from the world around him.

and wouldn't talk anymore. Two days ago, the mysterious figure was back again. This time I got a good look at it. A long black winter jacket and a hood that obscured its face, a dark spot so visibly clear on the snow day. I say it, because despite it looking completely human, I can't accept it as such.

The only thing different was that, on that day, some people followed it into the woods. I was almost one of them The voice I'd heard in my head Was just too alluring to ignore Yesterday it came back again And once more with a wave of its hand People started crawling out the windows to follow it

Some were just hanging over rails And falling down onto the snow From the second floor before getting up And following its calls Ignoring the cold and broken appendages I had to restrain Natasha from following it it seems that some people are more susceptible to its call. And so, she answered it.

I was fighting her for a good five minutes. She didn't hit or bite me. She was just silently pushing her whole body toward the door, trying to get out of the building and follow it. I was shouting at her, even hitting her to bring her back to her senses, all the while feeling the strength leave my already weakened body. And throughout all that, I could almost feel the creature's waiting gaze, piercing through the solid walls and judgingly looking over Natasha,

disapproving that she was making it wait for her. Finally, it left, and Natasha came back to her senses. I almost burst out crying when I realized that she was back with me. Over the last few weeks, she'd become the closest person to me, almost like a sister. To see her back to her senses was a great relief. But then the chill of cold air passed us And with the terror We realised that we were the only two people left in the apartment

The old man left And he didn't even bother to close the window behind him Seeing as it was the fifth floor We didn't risk looking out to see if he survived We knew the answer We simply closed the window Today the mysterious figure The haunted pipe piper will undoubtedly

return, and this time we may fall victim to his call, so we have no choice but to abandon the ship. There are no more than ten people left in the building, and we're all ready to leave. We've eaten all the food we've had, no point carrying it with us anymore. We've put on the warmest clothes we have to combat winter, and we've prepared the makeshift weapons. Some sharpen their brooms, but I decided to stick with my hatchet. I'm still in the warmest clothes. I'm still convinced that it's the best weapon I have. We're leaving in five minutes.

And Natasha's pouring potato soup into cups. Our last meal in this building. We don't know where we'll go or how far we'll get. But I'm sure of one thing. We'd be safer away from the forest. We might even travel from

one building to another. After all, we doubt that people close our apartments before evacuating. So, who knows, we may survive. We'll head somewhere far away, away from the military, away from the creatures,

and I'm sure we'll find the way. And if, in the future, I'm not maimed or shot, and I finally have a moment to sit down and safely recount what I've been through, I'll let you know, so keep your fingers crossed to me. And hopefully,

I'll talk to you soon.