Nathan stuck his head in the stairwell going up and listened, trying to slow his heartbeat and breathing so he wouldn't miss the slightest sound. The only trail of water leading to this set of stairs was his from earlier, but that didn't mean one of<span style="font-style: italic">them</span>hadn't gotten lucky and followed the exact same path. In the meantime, he followed the other two's conversation.<span style="font-style: italic">Did she really feel that guilty?</span>Nate hadn't even thought of it that way. There were so many ways to be ousted from a roost, and he had moved so often, he didn't think about anything but the tasks at hand.<br/><br/>And he definitely didn't blame them. That was certain.<br/><br/>Then came the crash downstairs. He knew what it was right off. The infected had indeed figured out they were in this building and were moving their way up. Nathan shined his light back on the blockade. It looked sturdy enough. One case covering the door and two more turned the other way to keep it from tipping.<span style="font-style: italic">They</span>would have trouble getting any footing on the stairs to push, too. So the humans upstairs should be safe for at least a day. Not that they'd stay that long. Nathan turned and headed up the stairs. â€œCome on. I can't lock this till you're through.â€ This bookcase pulled closed and locked the same way as the floor below, but there wasn't anything else to stop an attack the rest of the way up.<br/><br/>There wasn't anymore water trails, either. And the smell had lessened. Still, Nathan kept his shotgun at the ready as he made his way up. On the fifth floor he grabbed a couple towels off a cord stretched down the hallway and tossed them to his guests. A third went over his shoulder as he walked into his apartment.<br/><br/>It was a simple place. To the left, as he walked in was was the door to a small bathroom that took up that corner of the floor. Nothing was in there, save  two tanks of gasoline, an almost useless substance in the city, and a small stack of car batteries. Everything else was one big room. To the right was a kitchen area, separated from the living area by a long counter. One corner of that held jugs of water: at least ten gallons. There was also some pots on the counter and an industrial food possessor sitting next to a car battery.  A washbasin had silverware soaking in it.<br/><br/>The living area was simple. A couch acted as a couch and a pullout bed. In front of it was a coffee table with some newspaper spread across it and a laptop so Nathan could sit and work his crafts. A bedside table next to the sofa's arm held only a clock: powerless and functionless. Past that was the dresser that held a car battery and his large two-way radio, still scanning through channels for activity. Across from the door was a window; below it an assortment of beanbags where the bookstore owner probably liked to relax with his stories. And across from the couch was an entertainment system equipped with a useless TV and stereo. On top of it was a mirror, ripped from the bathroom, and yet another car battery. There wasn't a car still holding its battery within a block of this building. They were very useful; able to hold a charge for an extended period of time and could be recharged as frequently as you might like without fear of acid expansion. This is where Nathan went. Unslinging his bag, he reached inside. Plenty had broken when the zombie fell on him, but not what he was reaching for now. A small LED packet, the size of a baby's fist. It had two wires soldered to it and held in a roll with  couple rubber bands. Nathan unrolled them and used the bands to affix the wires to the car battery contacts. Immediately to room was full of light.<br/><br/>Usually, he would have closed and covered the window before doing this, but he didn't bother this time. He wanted infected in the building when he left. So he set the LED packet on the TV, facing the mirror, without a worry. It spread light across the room so everyone could see clearly, then made a grand gesture, spreading his arms wide and intoning, â€œWelcome to the lap of luxury: my humble abode.â€