Chapter Three

Compared to the hellish landscape of the city, my bunker is an impregnable Eden.

The broadband radio interceptor on the main control panel suddenly started flashing a red light.

The military's chaotic distress signals had long been drowned out by static noise, but an extremely powerful broadcast frequency forcibly cut into the public emergency band throughout Seattle.

"Desperate lambs...do not fear the wind and snow, do not fear the evil spirits walking among men. This is God's ultimate baptism for this fallen world!"

mocking smile slowly crept onto my lips .

Father Josiah.

This old fox is even faster than in his previous life.

In the vacuum of power when the government is paralyzed and the military is overwhelmed, extreme fear is the best catalyst for brainwashing.

Using the backup generator in his church basement and his heavily armed bodyguards , he quickly took over one of the largest survivor neighborhoods in the city center and unhesitatingly raised the banner of "holy war."

of Josiah, the Messiah, was amplified through a voice changer: "I, Josiah, the Lord's agent, have built an ark of absolute safety for you! Join the armed church, and the Lord will give you food and fire!"

“But—” he changed his tone, “among us are heretics who have turned their backs on God’s will! Logan, a former special forces soldier, used illicit money to hoard enough precious resources to save tens of thousands of people in some hidden corner of this city! He is a selfish thief, a spokesperson for the devil!”

I listened quietly to the ridiculous broadcast and turned on the surveillance camera.

Josiah's broadcast continued: "I now declare, on behalf of the Crusaders, that a 'holy confiscation' be carried out against the heretic Logan! All food seized from Logan's lair will become the cornerstone of our new order!"

The screen shows a snow-covered third street in downtown Seattle.

Three pickup trucks, modified with crash bumpers and welded with barbed wire, violently rammed into several zombies and stopped downstairs at my old apartment building.

The car door opened , and fifteen fully armed believers jumped out.

Some of these men were wearing riot gear and bulletproof vests taken from the police station, while others wore tactical helmets. They carried rifles and shotguns, and their movements even displayed the tactical skills of some third-rate mercenaries.

At the very back of the group, Josiah stood like a tyrannical despot, wearing an immaculate black trench coat and leaning on a pure steel tactical cane.

“The Logan family must still have food . Let’s go straight up, ” Josiah ordered.

"For the glory of the Lord!"

They smashed several zombies that tried to approach into piles of mangled flesh in the lobby , then stepped over the black blood and severed limbs, ascending the stairs to the door of my apartment on the 18th floor.

The surveillance camera captured their heavy breathing and impatient conversation with remarkable clarity.

"Father, this is a special titanium alloy security door, and the lock cylinder is military grade; it can't be opened!"

Joshua walked to the door and touched the extremely thick steel panel: "The stronger the door, the more astonishing the wealth inside. The devil hid his treasure behind the door, thinking he could obstruct the Lord's will. Use C4, blow it open!"

I couldn't help but laugh as I watched the demolition expert on the screen sticking tactical explosive putty to the floor joints and the corners of the door lock .

Well done. If they had used conventional hydraulic shears, it might have taken them an hour or two longer.

But C4? These idiots have no idea that I spent three whole days setting up a "welcome ceremony" inside the security door's entryway, under the load-bearing walls, and even under the solid wood flooring of the entire living room.

That was enough enthusiasm to send an entire armored company to meet God.

"Fire control fuse set! Retreat and prepare for detonation!"

The demolition expert roared, and the fifteen thugs raised their riot shields and huddled on both sides of the corridor.

With two of his men acting as human shields, Josiah retreated to a safe corner.

With a loud bang, thick smoke and orange-red flames suddenly exploded on the surveillance screen.

Even a military-grade titanium alloy security door, under such a high-yield directional blast, let out a mournful cry like a torn piece of cardboard. The entire iron door spun and crashed into the house, raising a huge cloud of dust in the empty living room.

"The door's open! Rush in! Take everything edible away!"

"Reclaim our Lord's resources!"

The armed believers rushed into the huge gaping hole.

Josiah followed at the back of the procession, smugly stepping over the ruins of the gate , even humming a hymn .

However.

The beam of the flashlight swept across the entire spacious penthouse apartment.

There were no stacks of food boxes.

There was no bottled purified water.

There were no weapons or ammunition.

Apart from a few pieces of discarded furniture that had been removed, the entire huge single-level space was empty and eerily silent, sending a chill down one's spine.

The believers looked at each other blankly, the muzzles of their guns hovering aimlessly in the air.

“God, Father…there’s nothing here.”

Josiah's pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints . He stared intently at the empty living room, a sense of foreboding washing over him like ice water.

How could this be a ghost town?!

In the dead silence and astonishment, an extremely faint yet rhythmic sound suddenly emanated clearly from the depths of the seemingly smooth solid wood floor beneath their feet.

"Drip... Answer."

"Drip... Answer."

the countdown timer of the electronic detonator .

I slowly reached out my hand, my thumb hovering over the already unlocked red detonation button on the control panel.

"Welcome to hell, you charlatan."