Chapter 2

Two minutes later, at the side door of the loading and unloading passage.

Marcus and David were already waiting for me, carrying sturdy empty canvas bags.

Behind them followed a young man named Paul.

I looked at Paul's calves, which were trembling slightly from nervousness.

“Listen up, Paul. After you go out this door, do everything according to my instructions. I don’t expect you to make any great contributions, just one thing: don’t hold us back.” I stared into his eyes. “If you can do that, you’ll be well-fed when you come back.”

“I can do it! I swear.” Paul nodded repeatedly, gripping the baseball bat tightly in his hand.

Without saying another word, I pushed open the side door and led them into the dark street.

I didn't fight my way through like the heroes in the movies.

My past life experiences have given me an intimate knowledge of every alleyway in this neighborhood and every place where infected people might gather.

We used the blind spots of abandoned trucks to weave along the edges of the main roads.

Twice they even heard the sounds of zombies, which terrified Marcus and the others, causing them to break out in a cold sweat.

An hour later, we arrived at the hidden pawn shop unharmed.

Marcus's gaze towards me changed noticeably.

He now realizes that following me is a million times safer than figuring things out on his own.

We climbed over the ventilation shaft in the back alley and entered the pawnshop.

As David's powerful flashlight illuminated the small basement, two gasps of cold air came from behind him.

On the iron shelf against the wall, six boxes of food rations and three boxes of high-calorie canned beef were neatly stacked.

Next to it was a dusty first-aid kit.

In the open gun cabinet in the center of the room lay four shotguns and several heavy boxes of bullets.

"God...we're saved! This meat will last us for at least half a month!" David's voice trembled with excitement.

"Marcus, load the gun and the bullets. David and Paul, load the rations." I gave the order in a low voice as I picked up a shotgun, cocked it with a click, and stood guard at the top of the stairs.

Just as the loading was halfway through, an extremely piercing sound rang out.

I turned my head abruptly.

Paul disobeyed orders. He saw a hunting knife hanging on the wall, and when he reached for it, he knocked over a metal box full of scrap metal parts next to him.

The noise was amplified in the underground space and carried to the street through the stairwell.

Just five seconds later, the glass shop window facing the street on the first floor was smashed by the zombies outside.

Four or five zombies, drawn by the scent, pounced down the narrow staircase in the basement like madmen.

"Run! They're coming!"

The zombie in the lead had already leaped down the last four steps, opened its mouth full of black blood, and lunged straight at Paul.

Marcus instinctively tried to raise the iron pipe in his hand, but he was too far away.

I took a step forward and pulled the trigger on the zombie that was pouncing in mid-air.

"Bang--!"

The zombie flew backward, knocking over the two that were following closely behind.

Taking advantage of the less than two seconds they spent rolling around in a heap, I strode forward, grabbed Paul by the back of his collar, dragged him up, and covered the retreat of the others.

After climbing out of the ventilation duct, I pressed the scalding hot gun barrel directly against Paul's forehead.

“Marcus, check his neck and arms. If you see even one scratch, I’ll smash his head in immediately.”

Marcus reacted immediately, pulled open Paul's collar, lifted his sleeve, and shone a flashlight on him carefully.

Paul was trembling with fear, but he was incredibly lucky; aside from the bruises from the fall, his skin was completely unharmed.

“No bite marks.” Marcus breathed a sigh of relief.

I slowly lowered the gun. Paul slumped to the ground, breathing heavily, his face streaked with tears and snot: "Thank you... thank you Zane, I thought I was going to die... I'll never touch anything again..."

I looked down at him, my gaze devoid of any warmth.

“Paul, listen carefully,” I said to him, emphasizing each word. “I pulled you up just now not because I was particularly kind, but because at that distance, I was confident I could save you without endangering myself. But remember, we don’t always have that kind of luck.”

Paul stared at me blankly.

"So don't pin your hopes of survival on other people's consciences. Learn to control your hands and learn to protect yourself. If you get bitten today, I swear, for the sake of the others in the camp, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger and kill you with my own hands."

These cruel yet incredibly realistic words were like ice water poured over the rest of the people present.

The awe in their eyes deepened as they looked at me.

Here, blind kindness will only kill everyone, and this kind of rational decisiveness is what they need most at this moment.

"Pack your things and let's go."

Fifty minutes later.

As we stepped back into the Blackwood Freight Center, covered in dust, the heavy side door locked behind us.

Everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing and froze on the huge canvas bags that the four of us were carrying back.

I walked up to the two makeshift folding tables, grabbed the bottom of the canvas bag, and pulled it up sharply.

More than thirty golden cans of beef were poured onto the table like a waterfall.

"My God...you actually brought back so many..."

Chloe immediately squeezed in from the back of the crowd.

Her eyes lit up when she saw the table full of high-calorie food. She habitually adjusted her expression, adopting a look of satisfaction and confidence, and naturally walked to the head of the long table.

"Everyone, please don't push. Zane, you've done a great job." Chloe smiled and held out her hand, preparing to count the cans. "With these, we can at least get through this. We need to register the supplies and distribute them."

Before she could finish speaking, a rough, large hand slammed down on the can of beef in front of her.

It's Marcus.

"Chloe, you'd better stay away from this meat."

Chloe's hand froze in mid-air, and the smile on her face gradually disappeared.

Marcus's attitude towards her wasn't this bad before, but after we went out once, his attitude completely changed. She thinks I did it.

She turned and glared at me: "Zane, what do you mean by this? Are you trying to selfishly take it all for yourselves?"

"Selfish? When we were surrounded by zombies outside, why didn't you come to protect us?" I raised my gaze, piercing Chloe's eyes. "Want supplies? Fine. Go outside and kill a few zombies, and you can take whatever you want from this table."

Chloe took a half step back from my gaze, but she was still unconvinced: "How can you be so heartless? This is a shelter! If, according to you, only those who are strong and dare to go out and kill monsters can get enough to eat, what about the elderly in the camp? And what about those frightened children? Can you bear to watch them starve to death?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation in the crowd.

Chloe is always good at shifting the blame and using the "weak" as a shield.

Just then, a small figure emerged from a corner of the crowd.

"Zane!"

Maya, clutching the dirty plush rabbit, ran to my side.

My previously cold and hard expression melted the moment I saw my sister.

I knelt down and ruffled her soft hair.

But Maya didn't cry or demand food.

“I can work,” Maya said, pointing to the glass window on the second floor. “I have good eyesight, so I can keep watch. If I see any monsters approaching, I’ll let you know immediately.”

Maya's words were like a slap in the face to Chloe.

My nose stung with tears. I straightened up, looked at the crowd that Chloe had been inciting, and announced the rules.

“I said I would make sure you don’t starve or die of disease, but this is not a sanatorium. We don’t support idlers. Logistics is an extremely important part. As long as you can provide value, you will never starve.”

Almost as soon as I finished speaking, a commotion broke out in the crowd.

The middle-aged woman named Anna was the first to step forward. She pushed Chloe aside and walked directly to the wooden table. "Zane. I can't shoot, and I don't have the strength to move sandbags. But I can mend clothes, I can boil water to filter the water source, and I can help those of you who went out wash the bloodstains off your clothes... Can I do these things in exchange for a bite to eat?"

“As long as you can do what you say,” I said without hesitation, taking a box of dehydrated vegetables and half a bottle of water from the pile of supplies and handing them to her, “you won’t starve to death.”

Anna took the food with trembling hands: "Thank you... thank you Zane."

Once there's a first one, there will be a second.

“Zane. I used to be a welder. I can go to the tool shed and see if there's a welding torch. If I can completely weld the number four roller shutter door shut from the inside and reinforce the defenses, can I get a box of meat?”

"If it's welded so well that even a truck can't break it, I'll give you two extra cans of beef today."

I threw an unopened box of beef into his arms.

"I used to drive heavy trucks, I can teach a few people how to use a forklift to block the outside containers at the entrance!"

In just a few minutes, the camp, which had been a disorganized mess that was endlessly engaging in verbal battles under Chloe's guidance, was instantly brought to life.

Dozens of survivors rushed to the wooden table to claim the defense and logistical tasks.

Chloe was completely pushed to the outermost edge of the crowd.

She stood there, looking at those who had once obeyed her every command, her face deathly pale.

I watched her coldly through the gaps in the busy crowd.

I don't even expect her to learn her lesson. She'll definitely open the door again in three days. But this time, I need to prepare in advance to minimize the losses. I absolutely cannot lose my Maya again.