Apocalypse Showdown: Carrier Conquest

Chapter 34: Neighbors Next Door

Zhou Lin’s home occupied Building 8, the premium tower; the woman who approached him lived next door in Building 7. Even more coincidentally, Huang Mengying also resided on the seventeenth floor—though Building 7’s floor housed two separate households, unlike the single-family residence in Building 8.

“I saw your tool shed up on the rooftop terrace,” Huang Mengying murmured in Zhou Lin’s ear. “And the lights inside.”

Zhou Lin had never imagined his tool room could remain concealed from all his neighbors. If anyone noticed a faint glow through those windows, it would be her.

A threat?

Zhou Lin said nothing, merely studied her.

“I only meant to express my envy,” Huang Mengying said, her tone disarmingly calm. “It never hurts to have more friends, more options. Don’t you think?”

“Let’s move out!” Shao Hang’s voice cut through the moment.

Zhou Lin stepped forward, and Huang Mengying fell into line beside him.

“Actually, I know your mother,” she added quietly.

Zhou Lin’s mind supplied its own retort—and I can still give birth?

Cheng Yali was fifty-seven; Huang Mengying must be… no matter.

“You don’t believe me? I also know your mother bought a vast stock of instant foods recently. Guess where she got them?”

At this, Zhou Lin understood. Huang Mengying—or her family—must trade in convenience foods, perhaps even serve as the local distributor for certain brands.

Zhou Lin’s greatest fear had been such an exposure. Others might not know the breadth of his family’s stockpile, but those who sold to Cheng Yali surely did. Though he had sacrificed an entire warehouse to conceal it, in dire times, such subterfuge proved useless—people believe only what they wish to believe. If Huang Mengying was convinced Cheng Yali had stashed all those supplies away, no explanation would sway her.

Troublesome indeed.

“We’ll talk later,” Zhou Lin said, stepping away. Huang Mengying allowed him the retreat—he exhaled in relief, already plotting how to handle her.

Shao Hang’s “supermarket” was a well-known local chain just outside the community gates, occupying ground-floor and second-floor storefronts—far easier to excavate than buried basements.

What normally took ten minutes on foot had stretched to half an hour; to avoid detection, the guards forbade anyone from using lights, and the darkness concealed both threats and watchers.

At the breach site, the guards divided the labor.

Men like Zhou Lin formed the digging teams, each handed tools—shovels, hoes, spades—anything that could shift snow or break ice.

The supermarket stood as a standalone three-story building; they needed only to clear a single window. Once one pane shattered, a guard checked inside with a flashlight. Finding no immediate danger, they sent in teams.

One third of the volunteers remained outside as lookouts.

Inside, the corridor led past offices with signs of other raiders’ footprints. The guards no longer blocked the lights; the darkness within surpassed the gloom outside.

One guard lit a candle to test the air’s oxygen level before they pressed on.

They discovered only traces of previous looters; the emptiness did not discourage them. The supermarket’s two floors held everything essential to life.

To maximize efficiency, the guards let people form their own squads: second floor for household goods, first floor for food—the primary target of this mission.

But Zhou Lin did not rush to the food aisles. When he found himself alone, he donned his night-vision goggles. Though colorless, they offered far greater visibility than a flashlight.

He saw that many second-floor shelves had been emptied, though only a fraction of goods had been carried off. He pocketed some clothing, then moved to the personal-care section. After ensuring no one watched, he began to gather everything: shampoo, body wash, insect repellent, soaps, toothpaste, toothbrushes—if it could be useful, he took it. Even if Laifu’s hold was already bursting, who could begrudge extra supplies? Surplus could always be bartered.

As he worked, he discreetly loaded items into his sled and slipped a few into his personal storage.

Reaching the women’s aisle, he paused. Cheng Yali and Zhou Li’s needs were already accounted for—he now thought of Wu Xue. What size should he take? Cheng Yali’s wardrobe was too large; Zhou Li’s, too small. He decided to gather all sizes and let Zhou Li sort them later.

Continuing down the aisles, he came upon kitchenware—knives, cutting boards, bins, trash bags, brooms, mops—every conceivable tool, even those whose purpose he could not guess. He would not return a second time. If others discovered this aisle empty, they would assume a prior raid—and indeed, one look at his sled’s scant load would confirm it.

Of course, he left the knick-knacks behind. Decorative items held no value now. Art belonged to a world where people were full; in this world, a stale sausage was a treasure.

Finished with the second floor, Zhou Lin hauled his sled to the first.

Now free of his goggles, he entered the pitch-dark food hall, where stray beams of light danced among the wreckage.

Empty display cases stood like tombs; the produce section lay littered with shards of ice. To his surprise, small mounds of bagged rice remained—perhaps seventy or eighty sacks—scavengers still hauling loads to their carts or sleds. Everyone’s zeal was fierce.

Meat counters had been stripped clean, as had the eggs. Only the condiments shelves retained some stock—salt, oil, tea—since flavor mattered little when full bellies were scarce.

Before this mission, Shao Hang had assured everyone that all recovered goods would be divided according to each household’s contribution. In other words, each volunteer received an equal share. With that in mind, Zhou Lin loaded jars of sauces and bottles of oil into his sled, and discreetly into his storage space.

By 4:00 PM, a guard announced that the staple foods had been fully retrieved and it was time to return.