The Apocalypse's Safe Zone Minimarket

Chapter 7: Sparks and Screeches

"Mr. Bambang, open the door right now!" Arman screamed, slamming his fist against the metal sheet. "We have a massive problem out here! Hurry, before the whole place goes dark!"

"I'm trying! The lock is stuck!" Mr. Bambang cried from the other side, his voice cracking. "Oh god, Arman, what's that buzzing sound?"

"It's the generator! It's about to blow!" Arman yelled back, watching the sparks fly closer to the damaged fuel line. "Open the damn door!"

Bzzzzt! Crackle!

"Warning," the system’s voice chimed inside his head. "Solar-Cosmic core failure in twenty seconds. Golden Sanctuary Shield collapse imminent."

"No, no, no! System, do something!" Arman yelled, clutching his head as a shower of blue sparks rained down onto the wet asphalt. "Can I buy a repair kit? A spell? Anything!"

"A basic manual override kit is available for twenty Karma Points," the system responded. "However, manual splicing is also possible using zero points."

"Zero points? Fine, how do I do it without getting vaporized?" Arman asked, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Please locate the primary rubber conduit," the system instructed. "Separate the blue positive lead and the brown ground lead. Ensure they do not touch while live."

"Blue and brown?" Arman muttered, squinting through the rising smoke. "Wait. That's just standard AC wiring. Like the ones from the old training video..."

He grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, wrapping it tightly around his hand to act as a makeshift insulator. "Okay, Arman. Remember chapter three of the employee onboarding manual: 'Always handle exposed wiring with non-conductive materials.' Who knew that stupid corporate orientation would actually save my life?"

"Arman! Are you still alive?" Mr. Bambang shrieked through the metal door. "The lights in here are flickering! They're turning red!"

"I'm fixing it, Mr. Bambang!" Arman shouted back. "Just get away from the door! If this goes wrong, the whole wall might get electrified!"

"Electrified?" Mr. Bambang yelled in terror. "Oh, mercy! Please don't let me fry in here!"

"Just stay calm!" Arman yelled.

He knelt down in front of the sparking generator, his face illuminated by the violent blue flashes. "Okay, blue to blue. Brown to brown. Don't touch them both at the same time, you idiot."

He reached out, his hand shaking. The copper wires inside the torn casing were fraying, spitting sparks like miniature lightning bolts.

"Ten seconds," the system warned.

"Shut up! I'm trying to concentrate!" Arman screamed at the empty air.

He grabbed the thick rubber casing, pulling the torn wires apart. The heat radiating from the copper was intense, smelling of burnt plastic and ozone.

"Okay, here goes nothing," Arman whispered.

With a quick, desperate movement, he twisted the blue wire together.

ZAP!

"Agh! Damn it!" Arman cried out, his arm jerking back as a sharp shock shot up his wrist.

"Warning: Host biological integrity threatened. Minor electrical discharge absorbed," the system chimed.

"Yeah, I noticed!" Arman growled, wiping sweat from his eyes. "But the wire is connected! Now for the brown one!"

"Five seconds," the system stated.

"I got it! I got it!" Arman yelled.

He grabbed the remaining strands of copper, ignoring the sparks biting at his skin, and twisted them together with a brutal, desperate heave. "Hold together, you piece of garbage!"

He snatched the roll of silver duct tape from his pocket and began wrapping it around the spliced joint, pulling it taut with his teeth. Rrrrriiiip!

"Come on... work!" Arman pleaded.

The violent sparking stopped instantly.

The harsh, sputtering noise of the generator softened, transforming into a deep, steady, almost imperceptible hum.

"Ding!" the system's cheerful chime echoed in his mind. "Repair successful. Power grid stabilized at one hundred percent."

"Oh, thank god," Arman gasped, collapsing back onto the wet asphalt. He stared up at the swirling red fog, his lungs burning. "I didn't die. I actually didn't get electrocuted."

"Safe Zone 04 upgrade unlocked," the system announced. "Due to your successful field maintenance, the Solar-Cosmic Generator has been upgraded to an enclosed pocket dimension. Acoustic emissions reduced to zero decibels."

Before Arman's eyes, a sleek, metallic dome materialized over the generator, sealing it completely. The humming sound vanished entirely. The alleyway was suddenly dead silent.

Click. Creak.

The heavy metal door finally swung open. Mr. Bambang stumbled out, holding a heavy plastic broom like a spear.

"Arman!" Mr. Bambang gasped, looking around wildly. "Are you okay? The noise... it just stopped! Did the monster come back? Did you blow it up?"

"No, Mr. Bambang," Arman said, slowly pushing himself up to a sitting position. "I fixed it. It's done."

"Fixed it?" Mr. Bambang stared at the silent metal dome where the noisy generator used to be. "Where did the noise go? And what is that shiny thing?"

"It's an upgrade," Arman chuckled weakly, shaking his head. "The system put it in a pocket dimension. That means it doesn't make any noise anymore. No more attracting monsters."

"A pocket what?" Mr. Bambang blinked, utterly confused. "You mean... it's like a magic bag? Like Doraemon?"

"Yeah, Mr. Bambang. Just like Doraemon," Arman laughed, rubbing his sore shoulder. "Come on, let's get back inside. I've had enough of this alleyway to last a lifetime."

"Are you sure you're not hurt, son?" Mr. Bambang asked, helping Arman to his feet. "You're covered in black slime and your shirt is torn."

"I'm fine. Just exhausted," Arman said, stepping back inside the warm, golden-lit store. "I feel like I've run a marathon."

"Well, you look like you got dragged through a hedge backward," Mr. Bambang said, shutting the door behind them and locking it securely. "But you did it. You really saved us."

"We saved each other, Mr. Bambang," Arman said, leaning his makeshift spear against the counter. "If you hadn't brought that tape, I wouldn't have been able to secure those wires."

"I guess I did help a little," Mr. Bambang said, a small, proud smile appearing on his face. "Though my heart is still beating like a drum."

"You should rest," Arman said, pointing to the employee breakroom. "Go sit down. There's some fresh water in there."

"I think I will," Mr. Bambang nodded. "But what about you?"

"I need to check the front," Arman said, looking toward the shattered glass entrance. "With all that noise we made, I want to make sure nothing else is heading our way."

"Be careful, Arman," Mr. Bambang warned. "Don't go sticking your head out again."

"I won't," Arman promised.

He walked toward the front checkout counter, his sneakers squeaking on the tiles. The warm, golden light from the ceiling made the store feel peaceful, almost normal, if not for the shattered glass littering the floor near the entrance.

Arman looked out into the street. The red fog was still thick, swirling lazily between the abandoned cars and darkened buildings.

"System," Arman whispered. "Is the radar still active?"

"The radar is operational, Host Arman," the system replied. "Currently detecting zero hostile signatures within a thirty-meter radius."

"Good. Let's keep it that way," Arman sighed.

Suddenly, a sharp, piercing sound cut through the quiet night.

Screeech! Peep! Peep!

Arman froze. "What the hell was that?"

"That sounded like... a police whistle?" Mr. Bambang called out from the back, poking his head out of the breakroom. "Did you hear that, Arman?"

"Yeah, I heard it," Arman said, his heart rate spiking again. "But why would someone blow a whistle right now? That's basically suicide."

"Maybe it's the police! Maybe they're trying to gather survivors!" Mr. Bambang said, stepping forward eagerly.

"No, that's too loud. It's too reckless," Arman muttered, pressing his face closer to the front window.

Peep! Peep! Peep!

The whistling grew louder, accompanied by the frantic sound of rapid footsteps splashing through puddles.

"Arman, look!" Mr. Bambang gasped, pointing toward the end of the street.

Through the crimson haze, three small figures burst onto the main road. They were running at a desperate, headlong sprint, their small legs moving as fast as they could.

"Are those... kids?" Arman's eyes widened.

"Oh my god, they are!" Mr. Bambang cried, clutching his hands together. "They're just children! What are they doing out there?"

"Hey! Over here!" one of the children, a boy holding a silver whistle in his mouth, screamed toward the golden glow of the store. "Help us! Please!"

"Run faster!" another child, a young girl, sobbed as she stumbled, nearly falling onto the wet asphalt before her companion grabbed her arm and pulled her up.

Behind them, the red fog parted violently.

Four pale, distorted figures emerged from the mist. Unlike the slow-moving mutated humans from earlier, these creatures were lean, their limbs elongated, moving on all fours with terrifying, insect-like speed.

"Warning," the system's voice blared inside Arman's head, the blue holographic map flashing a violent crimson. "Multiple Stage 1 Mutated Runners detected. Speed: High. Hostility index: One hundred percent."

"They're going to get caught!" Mr. Bambang screamed, grabbing Arman's arm. "Arman! We have to do something! We can't just watch them get eaten!"

"Get back, Mr. Bambang!" Arman roared, snatching his makeshift spear from the counter. "They're heading straight for the shield!"

"Host Arman," the system chimed coldly. "The runners will intercept the targets in exactly eight seconds. Do you wish to authorize a localized shield bypass?"