I woke up with a bit of a hangover and my bladder screaming that I had to go piss. As I climbed the ladder to deliver my morning golden shower on the gang below, I noticed with a sinking heart that the crowd looked even larger than before. I wondered if it was because of the light shining through the opened roof or the amount of noise I had made yesterday. But I would guess that maybe an extra 2,000 zombies were out there.

  As I scanned the crowd, I searched for Patricia, taking quite a while to find her. In my heart, I was not ready to let her go and write her off, but the rest of them would have to go if I wanted to make a clean escape. It was just a matter of hard work. After my bladder was empty, I made my way back down to the break room to eat one of my last dehydrated meal.

  Before making my breakfast, I decided to check the fridge and cupboards to see if there was any perishable food I could eat first. And boy, was I ever in for a surprise. When I tell you this, you might not believe me, but because there is a note and some explanation, you'll see why I’m not making this up.

  The note read, "Help me prepare Janine for her grand piano concert series in Germany. As I've been noticing, a lot of my canned food and packages of dehydrated noodles have been going missing that I leave here in case I forget my lunch. I know that you're probably in the same boat and that there is nothing close around here to eat. I brought in extras and I'm willing to sell them with all proceeds going to Janine, my 14-year-old daughter's music concert trip." Underneath it, there was a scannable code that said, "Donate to Janine's concert fund," and below that was a tracking sheet for getting charged for any of the things you want with a price list: Cokes $1.50, chocolate bars $2, canned soup $3, ramen noodles $2. Thank you.

  Now, standing in front of this makeshift convenience store, I couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. Here I was, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and someone had turned the break room into a fundraiser for their kid's piano concert. It was surreal.

  I opened up the fridge and saw it was stocked full of cans of Coke. In the cupboards, there were 10 cases of canned soup and half a dozen flats full of ramen noodles. There were also multiple cases of different types of chocolate bars. And for some reason, there were a few flats of canned chili, though those weren't mentioned on the price sheet that was taped inside the cupboard door.

  Knowing that each can was about 300 calories, and ramen noodles were probably about 200, and the super find of the chocolate bars, which were between 150 and 200 calories per bar, I would at least have a month's worth of calories. I grabbed one of the Cokes, cracked it open, and took a long swig, instantly feeling the caffeine and carbonation hit my stomach, giving me a bit of heartburn. I slowed down after recovering and sat in the chair, grinning. I might have a chance now, for sure. I grabbed the paper and pen and started sketching out the math.

  I began with the cans of soup. If each can had about 300 calories and there were ten cases, that was roughly 30,000 calories right there. The ramen noodles, with each packet around 200 calories, added up to another 12,000 calories with the half dozen flats. The chocolate bars, conservatively estimated at 175 calories each, added another substantial chunk to my food stockpile. I jotted down the numbers, feeling more optimistic with each calculation.

  The cans of chili, not listed on the price sheet but certainly edible, were another bonus. I estimated those to be around 350 calories per can, adding a nice buffer to my supplies. And the Cokes, though not exactly nutritious, provided a decent sugar and caffeine boost, something I was already appreciating as the heartburn subsided and my energy levels rose.

  Sitting in the chair, I sipped the Coke more slowly, savoring the moment. I might actually survive this. I glanced around the break room, thinking about the next steps. With a steady food supply, I could focus on clearing the zombies and planning my escape. For the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope.

  I found disposable plates and cutlery as well as a can opener and chowed down on a can of soup and a can of chili. I microwaved them for three minutes each to see how that would affect the drain on the battery. The aroma of hot food filled the break room, and it felt like a small luxury amidst the chaos.

  As the microwave hummed, I kept an eye on the numeric digits on the power banks. The soup heated up first, and I cautiously sipped the hot broth, savoring the warmth and flavor. It was a simple pleasure, but one I hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity. The chili followed, its spicy scent mingling with the soup, creating an oddly comforting atmosphere.

  To my relief, the power levels on the battery banks didn't drop significantly. They remained steady, hanging around the same percentages as before. It seemed the power draw from the microwave, at least for short bursts, was manageable. I made a mental note of this, considering how I might ration the use of electricity for heating food in the coming days.

  With my belly full and the battery levels holding steady, I felt a renewed sense of determination. There was still a lot to do, but having a warm meal in my stomach made everything seem a little more possible. I cleaned up my makeshift dining area, disposing of the empty cans and washing the spoon and bowl. As I did, I started planning my next move.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  I had a pretty simple idea, and it involved not many tools. I grabbed three of the pipe wrenches—the 14-inch, the 16-inch, and the 24-inch—and the chain. I also found a bolt and two wrenches that would tighten it. I put all that stuff inside the bucket, and made my way to the top of the roof.

  Setting the bucket down, I took out the wrenches and chain. The plan was straightforward but required some finesse. I would use the pipe wrenches as weighted projectiles, swinging them with the chain to bash in zombie heads. It was crude, but it might just work. The bolt and wrenches were for securing the chain to the roof, giving me a stable base from which to operate.

  I attached the 14-inch pipe wrench by threading the bolt through the hole in the handle, wrapping the chain around it, adding a washer, and tightening the bolts securely. Now, I had a pipe wrench on a piece of chain. It wasn't very heavy, maybe about four or five pounds, making it easy to maneuver.

  I went to the top of the roof, ensuring I wouldn't be anywhere close to Patricia, and threw the chain over the edge. Learning from my old mistakes, I had securely anchored the end of the chain by pounding a heavy-gauge nail I found into the roof and one of the end links of the chain. The wrench fell, striking between two zombies.

  I started pulling the chain back up, hand over hand, until I had it again and launched it with more accuracy. This time, I smoked a brunette zombie in the head, one wearing a pink shirt. The wrench bounced off her noggin and hit another zombie's shoulder. It staggered her for a bit but didn't seem to incapacitate her. I thought the other zombies might tear her apart, but it didn't seem to be enough to cause them to target her.

  I pulled up my pipe wrench again and started to undo the bolt on the 14-inch. I figured I needed more weight to cause more damage, so I decided to attach the 24-inch pipe wrench next. It was significantly heavier, and I hoped it would have a more profound impact on the zombies below.

  I repeated the process, securing the 24-inch pipe wrench to the chain. As I prepared to launch it over the edge, I couldn't help but think about how surreal this situation was—using tools meant for plumbing as makeshift weapons against a horde of zombies. But desperate times called for desperate measures.

  I swung the heavier pipe wrench over the edge, and it fell with a satisfying thud, smashing into a zombie's head with enough force to knock it down. This time, the impact seemed to do more damage, and the zombie didn't get back up. Encouraged, I continued to pull the chain up and launch the wrench again, targeting the densest parts of the crowd.

  After about 15 throws, my arms were jello, and the weight of the 24-inch pipe wrench was more than enough to cause carnage among the zombies. Once they were on the ground, the other zombies typically went into a frenzy, quickly devouring their fallen brethren. I decided it was time for a water break and to get a different-sized pipe wrench.

  As it turned out, the 20-inch pipe wrench seemed to be very consistent in taking down zombies. It was only a few pounds lighter than the 24-inch, which meant I could get in five or six more throws before needing a break. I started timing myself to see how many zombies I could take out in a set period, and my rough estimate was about 1 zombies per minute.

  Staying around to watch how my strikes were hitting, I found it more efficient, instead of the hand-to-hand pulling, to put the chain on my shoulder and walk back, relieving a lot of the stress on my arms and transferring it to my legs. I alternated between walking and pulling up and back, trying to maximize my efficiency. This method was surprisingly effective, allowing me to clear a small area around the building. I continued the process, taking breaks to rest my arms and stay hydrated. Each throw required focus and precision, and I could feel myself improving with each attempt.

  It worried me a little that the zombies weren't going into their feeding frenzies as harshly as before, and some of the bodies were still remaining on the ground. It was like they could sense the blood or smell of death and tried to avoid it. I moved to the other side of the building, the lower side, which made me have to increase the pipe wrench to 24 inches so that it would be more effective. But the difference in fall was significant, and even the heavier wrench seemed not to always incapacitate them from that side.

  The pile of dispatched zombies grew larger, and the remaining ones seemed to hesitate slightly before approaching the building. It was as if they were starting to understand the danger that awaited them. Despite the physical exhaustion, I felt a sense of grim satisfaction knowing that I was making progress, slowly but surely.

  As the sun set, casting long shadows across the landscape, I decided to call it a day. I had made a significant dent in the horde, but there was still a long way to go. I headed back to the break room, where I collapsed into a chair and took a long swig of water. My muscles ached, and my hands were blistered from gripping the chain and pipe wrenches, but I knew I couldn't stop now.

  Tomorrow would be another day of battle, another day of fighting for survival. But for now, I allowed myself a moment of rest, savoring the small victory I had achieved.

  I tried to do as many stretches and exercises during the day, as well as before I went to bed, to make sure my muscles wouldn't ache. I took Tylenol and decided to reward myself with one of the cans of Coke from the stash in the break room. The fizzy sweetness was a small comfort after a long day of zombie smashing. I also added a good measure of scotch after I had a few mouthfuls of the Coke missing and filled it with whiskey. I stretched out on my sleeping mat, the aches in my muscles gradually easing as the Tylenol kicked in.

  I thought about the plans for the next day and considered keeping up what I was doing as it seemed to be working. As I drifted to sleep, I couldn't help but wonder how long I could keep this up. The never-ending sea of zombies seemed daunting, but I had to keep going. I had to survive. With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I finally succumbed to sleep, ready to face whatever challenges came the next day.