The water in the storage space never stopped running. Nicole filled every container she had and topped them off again.

On the lower floors, three households from the first floor had moved up, spreading out across the hallways of the second, third, and fourth floors. It made the original residents uncomfortable, but everyone reminded themselves that times were hard and kept quiet.

That didn’t last.

Trash started piling up everywhere. People knocked on doors at random, asking to come in and use the bathroom.

With the water shut off, toilets couldn’t be flushed. Residents had to collect rainwater from their balconies just to manage basic needs. No one wanted strangers inside.

The displaced first-floor residents eventually stopped asking. They relieved themselves in the stairwell, then moved farther up when the smell became unbearable.

If they were suffering, no one else was allowed to be comfortable either.

Arguments broke out nonstop. Shouting echoed through the stairwells at all hours.

The group chats were just as bad, with complaints, resentment, and raw hostility everywhere. The brief harmony before the typhoon was long gone.

Nicole’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing.

Edward kept sending friend requests. When she blocked him, he sent texts. Even Mary joined in.

The latest message read: [Nicole, listen to me. Mary and I are just friends.]

The girl on the 12th floor must’ve been running low on supplies. Otherwise, Edward wouldn’t be this desperate.

It seemed that Edward was sure Nicole still had food. If it weren’t for the door blocking the stairs, he probably would’ve charged up already.

Nicole scrolled through the group chat, and sure enough, the girl from the 12th floor was asking for help, offering trades or cash.

Water, power, and gas were all gone. There was no news of a rescue.

On the rare occasions calls went through, people were told to stay inside and not go out. After that, nothing.

The weather service had said the typhoon would pass in four to five days. It was already day five. Instead of easing up, it was getting worse.

More apartments reported shattered windows. One home was wrecked inside. An elderly man slipped, collapsed, and suffered a heart attack.

They were trapped by floodwater, and emergency calls wouldn’t connect. The old man’s family flooded the chat in panic.

[Does anyone have heart medicine? We’re out. Even fast-acting pills are fine. Please help. Please save my dad!]

The messages were frantic and desperate.

Nicole had emergency heart medication stored. But the patient was in Building 15, hundreds of yards away. And the message was already an hour old.

Nicole smiled and rewarded the rabbits with two carrots.

At noon, she cooked a skillet meal and drank a pineapple soda while watching a show. For once, she shut out everything beyond her walls and felt oddly relaxed.

After cleaning up, she was about to nap when someone knocked. Three long taps, one short.

It was Poppy.

Her cold was gone, and she looked lively again. A crooked little ponytail sat on top of her head, obviously Zeph’s handiwork.

She held out a shiny red apple, smiling widely. “For you.”

“Thank you,” Nicole said, but didn’t take it. She crouched down and said gently, “When you have good things, keep them for yourself. And don’t let others see when you eat. People might try to take it.”

A child this innocent would draw dangerous attention in a few years.

“Not for others,” Poppy said seriously, pushing the apple forward. “Only for you. We have lots at home.”

Nicole paused.

“This little one is such an open book…” she sighed, the smile on her face softening. Just how did the person next door raise her to be like this…