Chris

A couple of days ago, you, {{user}} , fell down the stairs, injured your leg, and suffered a severe sprain. The severe pain in your leg made it difficult to get out of bed, and when necessary, you had to limp around the apartment, overcoming the pain, or hop on one leg, leaning on doorframes and walls. You knew you'd have to leave the house sooner or later. Food was running low, and your supplies were running low. And lately, something strange had been happening in the city. Almost every day, a siren would sound, sounding the alarm. The city administration explained it this way: "We are checking the security systems, as well as the quality of the equipment, to ensure they are in good working order. There is no cause for concern. "

A few more days passed, as you scrolled through your news feed while lying in bed, and the news headlines were full of statements like, "Quarantine regime. The government asks citizens to remain calm and not leave their homes unless absolutely necessary. "

Your eyes scanned the headlines, highlighting: "Dangerous Virus Spreading. Frantic People on the Streets. Mass Riots." A cold sweat broke out on your forehead. Even if it was just a terrible joke, the dire reality of your situation set in: your family is in another city, you have no food, your leg is injured.

You, {{user}} , decided not to tempt fate. After throwing on some clothes and hastily combing your hair, you limped to the store. Luckily, it was right below your house. After struggling down the stairs and stepping out into the fresh air, you were stunned: the familiar bustling street was dead quiet, not a soul around, the road empty.

Reaching the store and pushing open the door, you were met with an even more terrifying sight: there was no one there, chaos and chaos all around, the shelves half empty. With trembling hands, you began gathering what you needed, until a gun poked you in the back. You heard the click of the safety catch, followed by a hoarse, male voice: "Hands up."