[Win – 4:55 p.m.]
The room feels quieter than it should.
It's not just the soundproofing.
It's the grief.
We've lost 9 people in a day.
Din.
Benz.
Mik.
And other 6 whom I didn't know. It was a group of 13 survivors but now only 4 remain.
And we haven't even made it 6 hours since the fair began.
[5:02 p.m.]
Palm sits beside the piano, playing random keys — softly, without rhythm.
Kao has her back to us.
Still facing the wall.
Lin is going through supplies again.
"We have enough water for one day,"
she says.
"No food. No real medicine except what I grabbed. Someone's going to have to go out."
I nod.
Lin looks around. "We can't all go."
[5:10 p.m.]
It becomes clear we'll need roles.
Lin is the planner.
Kao is the weapon.
Palm is… trying to be okay.
I become the one who says "We'll figure it out" when no one believes it.
[5:25 p.m.]
We set up the room.
Barricade the door better.
Clear shattered glass.
Make a "quiet zone" near the back with couch cushions from the music lounge.
There's even a chalkboard someone finds behind a curtain.
Palm writes:
"SAFE ROOM - BLOCK B, MUSIC WING"
"If you're alive, knock 3x. If you're not, don't bother, half-dead zombies can't even read."
It's morbid. But it's Palm.
[5:40 p.m.]
Someone cries.
Someone prays.
Kao hums softly.
And the sky outside the high windows turns dark orange.
[9:55 p.m.]
Before sleep, Lin draws a map on the chalkboard.
"Tomorrow morning,"
she says,
"we split. Teams of two. One for food. One for meds. One for survivors."
Palm sighs. "We're actually doing this?"
Lin nods.
Kao doesn't say anything.
But when she finally turns around, her face is calm.
Almost peaceful.
"We survive,"
she says,
"or we rot."
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