When one takes the lead, others inevitably follow.
Several attractive women from the group approached, their every gesture dripping with flattery as they cast suggestive glances at the men.
One of them, disregarding the gazes of those around her, boldly grabbed a man's hand and pressed it against her chest.
They understood the dire reality—once these men left, the chances of the remaining group catching zombies would diminish to near impossibility.
Survival had long since stripped away their sense of shame.
In these desperate times, infidelity was measured by the ton.
And now, with survival hanging by a thread, offering their bodies seemed trivial. In the future, when they reached the end of their rope, even that currency would lose its value.
Once the men departed with their newfound companions, the remaining women grew even more anxious.
These were older, middle-aged women who had long lost their competitive edge, yet they too harbored no desire to die.
"Mr. Isaac…"
A woman in her forties, still possessing a hint of charm, stepped forward with a soft smile, grabbing Isaac's hand.
Isaac looked at her in disbelief.
"You…"
He recognized this woman—she was once a teacher at a prestigious school, raising her seven-year-old son alone after being widowed.
And now, even she had succumbed to despair?
Her eyes were firm, her smile resolute. "I have a son to raise. I don't want to die, and I certainly don't want him to die either… Mr. Isaac, didn't you always say I was a good woman? As long as you protect me and my son, I'll be yours."
A widowed woman in her forties, paired with a nearly seventy-year-old martial arts master.
Ryan, standing to the side, wore an ambiguous expression, one that betrayed a mix of amusement and disbelief.
The question loomed: could Isaac still rise to the occasion?
It was clear that Isaac held this woman in high regard.
But respect was far from the same as choosing a partner in such trying times—especially when the arrangement came with a "buy one, get one free" caveat.
"Don't do this, Lena. Rest assured, I'll look out for you."
Isaac awkwardly pushed the woman's hand away.
After living such a long life, he couldn't bring himself to abandon his principles and degrade himself now. It was a direct affront to his martial code.
But Lena only gripped his hand tighter, her voice trembling yet insistent. "Mr. Isaac, I know you're a good man, but being good makes life even harder. Please, let me stay with you."
Tears welled in Lena's eyes as she slowly knelt before him.
Beside her, her trembling young son followed suit, kneeling in quiet imitation.
Isaac sighed deeply as he looked at the mother and child before him. "Why must you do this?"
Lena bowed her head, her voice heavy with sorrow. "Mr. Isaac, you can't save everyone. They'll all die eventually, but I don't want to…"
Ryan, watching the scene unfold, found himself harboring a sliver of respect for the woman.
She was undeniably clever.
Isaac was indeed a good man, but good men were often plagued by a crippling sense of obligation.
If Lena couldn't secure her place at Isaac's side now, the inevitable collapse of their group would leave her and her son at the mercy of others. Isaac would no longer be there to protect them.
"I need to speak with Miles."
Isaac drew a deep breath and turned to Ryan.
Ryan, as though anticipating this, handed over the radio with a smirk.
"I'll agree to your terms," Isaac said, his voice laden with resignation. "But I won't actively seek to 'kill.' You understand…"
He cast a pained look at the people around him.
"Understood."
Miles's voice was calm, almost indifferent. "You know I'm no monster. The world's just changed, that's all."
"I'll need heating supplies and enough food for ten people each day."
"And the price?"
Miles didn't outright refuse; instead, he chuckled. "My generosity always comes with a price."
Miles's interest in Isaac stemmed from more than just admiration for his character. What truly intrigued him was Isaac's unparalleled skill.
A martial arts master of great renown, Isaac had the potential to lead far more effectively than Ryan ever could.
With Isaac in place, Miles could initiate his expansion plans—using these people as a reserve force to sweep through surrounding areas.
"I'll do as you command," Isaac promised. "I'll train them to capture zombies as best as I can. And if you're ever in danger, I'll fight to protect you."
Such promises carried little weight.
Miles laughed softly. "We'll talk about risking lives later. For now, I'll provide a comfortable environment. But as for food… you'll get three portions a day."
Three portions might sound generous, but it was barely enough to keep one person adequately fed.
"I have two others to care for. Three portions won't be enough…"
Isaac glanced at Lena and her son, then sighed. "Don't worry. I won't waste your resources."
"Six portions. Take it or leave it. You're in no position to negotiate."
Six portions were a rare luxury—enough to last one person four or five days. Daily feasts were out of the question.
"I accept."
…
With Isaac's addition, the extermination team's strength grew significantly.
Given Miles's explicit authorization, Isaac quickly rose to prominence, his authority second only to Ryan's. His unmatched martial prowess made him a formidable presence.
The 200-member team was divided into 20 smaller squads.
Ryan, as the commander, oversaw food distribution, while Isaac managed operations along the neighborhood's fringes and nearby residential areas.
Anthony, meanwhile, secured a vice-captaincy, though it remained uncertain how many of his 100 subordinates would survive the coming days.
"Isaac," Miles said over the radio, amusement lacing his tone. "Tomorrow, I'll have something special waiting for you outside the villa. Don't disappoint me."
The next morning, Isaac arrived at Villa 104 with his team, only to be met with a sight that left him utterly dumbfounded.
A snowmobile.
Before him stood a heavily modified, powerful snow vehicle. Its wheels were encased in thick tracks, capable of effortlessly traversing the meters-thick layers of snow with just a gentle press of the accelerator.
The vehicle itself was impressive—but what truly stunned him was the fuel.
How vast a fortune would one need to squander such precious resources in this climate?
Could Miles possibly have an entire oil reserve stashed away?
Energy resources of any kind were now rarities, irreplaceable and desperately coveted.
Even a basic snowmobile had become a mythical commodity.
Isaac's shock was palpable.
Abandoning any semblance of restraint, he climbed into the vehicle with one swift motion, turning on the heater. The gentle warmth washed over him, and for a moment, he felt as though he were dreaming.
How long had it been since he'd felt warmth like this?
In the subzero temperatures that turned even survival into torment, this fleeting comfort was a treasure beyond measure.