Meat! Real meat!
Ever since the apocalypse began, the survivors hadn't tasted a proper hot meal, let alone anything as luxurious as meat. The mere thought sent a wave of excitement rippling through the group.
But as they approached Sini, she raised a hand to stop them. "Hand over the rope."
"Why should we? We caught this zombie ourselves!"
One of the residents clutched the rope tightly, his stance defensive, prepared to fight for his prize.
Sini responded with a cold sneer. "We all spotted the zombie together, chased it out together, and only by chance did you manage to capture it."
"Bullshit! I grabbed its arm!"
"And I had its leg!"
"I tied the rope!"
"Fine," Sini said with an unflinching gaze. "Then go claim your reward yourselves. But…" She trailed off with a sly smile. "If they let you, that's none of my concern."
The trio froze, suddenly realizing the weight of her words. They glanced around uneasily.
Surrounding them were over three hundred residents, all watching the zombie with predatory intent. One wrong move, one sign of selfishness, and the rest of the crowd would descend like vultures.
The three men retreated, visibly shaken.
"Sini, we…"
"Do you see now?" Sini's tone softened, adopting a more conciliatory approach. "We're a community. Any benefits belong to all of us. If you try to keep it for yourselves, well… you already know what will happen."
In times of chaos, survival often meant unity. Sini's warning wasn't just advice—it was survival wisdom.
The men exchanged glances, then reluctantly handed over the rope.
"You're right, Sini. We were wrong. This zombie belongs to everyone. Let's claim the reward together."
"That's more like it." Sini smiled warmly, easing the tension. "Still, you three did most of the work. Once we get the roasted chicken, I'll make sure you get extra. And don't worry—there are more zombies in this neighborhood. Everyone will have their chance to eat meat. Right, brothers?! If we stick together, a better future is within reach!"
Her rousing speech reignited hope among the group. Cheers and shouts of agreement echoed:
"She's right! Together, we can all have roasted chicken!"
"No doubt! If we catch more zombies, there'll be plenty for everyone!"
"As long as we work as one, nothing's impossible!"
Hope is a powerful motivator. Just a glimpse of a brighter future can inspire people to unimaginable lengths.
"Let's go trade for our chicken!" Sini waved her hand, leading a procession of over a hundred residents toward the D-zone villas.
Meanwhile, members of two other groups, initially planning to ambush them, hesitated. The sheer energy and determination radiating from Sini's group made them think twice.
An army with momentum is an unstoppable force. In their current state, these people would tear apart anyone foolish enough to stand in their way.
Anthony watched them pass with a scornful expression. "Hah, that conniving woman sure knows how to manipulate people."
Ryan nodded, his tone a mix of admiration and frustration. "She's a master of persuasion. Look at them—they'd follow her into hell if she asked."
Anthony sneered bitterly. "No wonder she ran such a big company before all this. Guess we have to give her credit where it's due."
Before long, Sini's group arrived at the villa gates.
Miles, having already heard about the situation through Ryan's radio, stood by the window, observing the commotion below.
"Miles!" Sini stepped forward, holding the rope firmly. "We caught a zombie. Time to honor your promise."
Raising his binoculars, Miles examined the zombie—and froze.
"Wait… it's her?!"
The zombie tethered to Sini's rope was none other than Ella, the woman Miles had previously banished.
But Ella's mutation was unlike Andrew's. Her eyes weren't the pale, lifeless white of a typical zombie but a deep, blood-red hue. Her veins were visible but didn't bulge grotesquely like others.
Was she infected instead of mutating directly?
Miles recalled scenes from his previous life's outbreak. Zombies like Ella were common at the start—infected individuals who turned rather than directly mutating. Clearly, the more aggressive mutations like Andrew's were rare.
Judging by Ella's relatively subdued behavior, these infected zombies weren't as dangerous as their mutated counterparts. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been captured so easily.
So far, Miles had encountered only two zombies of note: Andrew and Ella. But he was certain that the vast Cloud City concealed countless others, either on the verge of mutation or fully transformed.
These creatures would inevitably become obstacles to his survival. They had to be eradicated.
As for the roasted chicken…
Miles smirked, casually retrieving a freshly roasted chicken from his spatial inventory. He tossed it down alongside two packets of instant noodles.
"Well done, Sini! These noodles are a bonus. From now on, whoever captures the most zombies will earn extra rewards."
A single zombie for one roasted chicken and two packs of noodles—what a lucrative business.
Of course, Miles wasn't worried about the cost. Even if they delivered thousands of zombies, he could afford it. His priority was survival, not food conservation.
Sini, surprised by the additional rewards, raised an eyebrow. Miles had been notoriously stingy until now.
So, these zombies were important to him.
"Thank you, Miles. We'll do our best to bring more!" Although she couldn't guess his motives, Sini knew better than to question him. For now, compliance was the wisest course.
Miles threw out thirty portions of food, enough to satisfy the crowd, before withdrawing without another word.
The residents, overjoyed with their bounty, departed with smiles on their faces.
Later, Ryan called Miles. "What should we do with the zombie?"
In the courtyard, Ella was tied to a metal railing, eerily resembling a chained guard dog. Her mutated state rendered her impervious to the cold; she wore only a thin sweater, her shapely figure barely concealed.
Was it possible that infection altered the body's tolerance to the elements?
Miles stared out the window, his gaze distant. "I suspect these mutations are caused by genetic changes. If we study them carefully, we might uncover something valuable."
In the apocalypse, anything was possible.
If the dead could rise as zombies, their bodies must harbor significant biological changes. Miles believed this wholeheartedly.
After all, he himself was proof that extraordinary changes could occur. Even now, he couldn't explain the existence of his spatial ability.
If he could understand and control these changes, it might redefine the apocalypse's trajectory.
He was certain that remnants of the government's scientific community were conducting similar research, hoping to unlock the secrets hidden within the undead.