My fingers trembled at the bloody words.
In the toilet cubicle of the shopping mall, the words written in blood were crooked, but each word was filled with fear: "Don't make any sound, if it exceeds 74 decibels, you will die."
What is the concept of 74 decibels? Normal people speak at about 60 decibels, and a baby's cry can reach 90 decibels. I held my breath while my mind frantically calculated the meaning behind this number.
It's been seven days.
On the day the apocalypse broke out, I was parking my car in the underground garage of the shopping mall. The broadcast suddenly stopped and was replaced by a low hum. Immediately afterwards, all the sirens in the parking lot went off, and I saw a man rolling on the ground with his ears covered, and blood began to ooze from his orifices.
I've been stuck in this toilet for three days.
There is a mother and baby room next door, and I know that a mother and child live in it. Yesterday I heard the mother humming a song to coax her child in as low a voice as possible, as soft as a feather falling to the ground. But the baby doesn't know what doomsday is, and he should cry anyway.
Like now.
"Wow——"
The cry cut through the silence like a knife. I immediately threw myself at the crack of the door, my heart beating so fast that it almost jumped out of my throat.
