Hugo sat on the edge of his couch, running through the events of the past hours in his mind. The makeshift barricades he had built were out in the corridor. The weight of exhaustion still pressed on him, but for the first time in days—maybe weeks—he felt a sliver of control over his situation. Both stairwells were blocked. The zombies wouldn’t be able to pour in from every direction like before. He had carved out a piece of safety for himself.


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