And that trial arrives sooner than expected.
At two in the afternoon, on the monitor, a crowd appears at the far end of the street outside the mall. Roughly twenty people, men and women, some supporting the wounded, others carrying bags on their backs. They must have made their way here from an underground parking garage in a nearby complex.
Their bodies are wrapped in down jackets, quilts, plastic raincoats, even curtains. Scarves are wound around their faces with makeshift transparent plastic sheets cut out for eyeholes. Even so, frost has already formed thick on their eyebrows and lashes. On a few of them, dark patches have started to spread across the backs of their hands and necks. Not a normal sign. Blood is seeping through the gaps in their wrappings.
Walking at the front of the group is none other than Gary. He's still alive somehow. Only now, the look in his eyes is even more unhinged than it was that morning. Beside him, several young men grip metal pipes, wrenches, and fire axes.
This isn't a group asking for help. They've come to force the door open.
I switch on the outdoor speaker. "Stop."
My voice carries out through the entrance speaker. The crowd goes still for a moment.
"Leave. This place isn't taking anyone in."
Someone in the crowd immediately breaks down, crying. "How can you be so heartless? What's the harm in letting us warm up? One person hogging a place this big. Aren't you afraid of karma?"
Gary seizes the moment, raising his voice. "You all heard that, right? He clearly has the space, the supplies, even heating equipment, and he still won't let us in. Talking about private property at a time like this. That's downright inhuman."
I watch him quietly. I have to admit, Gary knows how to work a crowd. He knows he can't get in alone, so he ties everyone's fate together with his own. As long as I refuse to open the door, I become the villain in everyone's eyes.
Too bad this trick doesn't work on me anymore.
I say, "First, this mall is mine. Second, this place hasn't finished decontamination for group intake. Third, some of you already have dark patches on your skin. If you force your way in, you'll drag everyone else down with you. Fourth, the louder you get at this door, the more infected you'll draw here."
I give directions one more time. "Three hundred meters east, a community clinic. Five hundred meters north, an underground parking garage. If you want to survive, leave now, before they finish gathering. This is the last warning I'm giving."
But Gary is clearly not satisfied. He sneers. "Don't listen to him, everyone. He's just saying all this to trick us into leaving. He's got a huge stockpile in there for sure. If we all rush the door together, he won't dare keep it shut."
Several young men immediately charge forward, swinging metal pipes and fire axes hard against the outer metal gate.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The harsh clang of impact echoes far down the empty street.
I give one final warning. "Stop smashing the door. The noise will draw the infected here."
But Gary acts like he didn't hear a word, shouting even louder. "Everyone shout together. Make him open it. He won't dare watch us die out here."
The crowd, whipped into a frenzy, starts chanting. "Open the door. Open the door. Open the door." The sound carries far through the storm.
I don't try to reason with them anymore. I just switch camera feeds, scanning both sides of the street.
Sure enough, off in the distance, a few wandering infected slowly lift their heads. Then a second, a third, a fifth. More and more dark shapes turning around within the curtain of falling snow. They've heard the noise.
Gary keeps shouting. "Ethan, if you won't open this door, you're the one killing all of us."
I lean back in my chair, watching him calmly. The one who led them here — that's you.
The next second, the first dark shape bursts around the street corner.
Someone in the crowd screams. The scene erupts into chaos instantly. The men who were smashing the door moments ago drop their tools and bolt. Someone trips and falls. Others grab and shove each other. Some scream and vanish into the curtain of snow.
Gary's face goes white. He turns to flee, but he's barely taken two steps before a man grabs him hard by the arm. "Gary, you're the one who said we'd get in here. Don't you dare run."
"Let go of me. You're the idiots who bought into it. Not my problem."
The moment those words leave his mouth, everyone around him turns pale with fury. But there's no time left for anger. The storm and chaos quickly swallow up the scene outside the door.
I sit in the control room, not moving, not opening the door, because I know full well that if I go soft now, I'll be the one who ends up dead.
A few minutes later, it goes quiet outside again. The snow keeps falling. Metal pipes, quilts, and a few loose shoes litter the ground. The survivors have already scattered in every direction. Gary is nowhere to be seen. Whether he escaped or was swallowed by the storm, there's no telling.
I switch off the outdoor speaker, then zoom in on the entrance camera feed, confirming the outer defenses are undamaged. Good. The bunker has weathered the first wave without a scratch.
Just then, my phone buzzes again. This time, it's not Vivien. It's Derek.
"Ethan, I know exactly where you are. The underground mall, right? Just wait. We're coming, and soon."
So word about the underground mall has already reached Derek. Whether it was Gary who leaked it or Vivien who told him doesn't matter anymore. What matters is they finally set their sights on me.
Only this time, the door is mine to control. The supplies are mine, and the path to survival is mine, too.
I slowly type back one line. "Come on. I'll be waiting."