Chapter 22 The Previous Warehouse Is Ransacked
Brad thrashed wildly, pain and terror fueling his climb.
“I can’t hold you!” the instructor shouted.
“Take the food! Just take it!” Brad finally relented–but it was too late.
Lured by his scent, zombies howled and swarmed the balcony, reaching wildly over the edge. Some fell, others clung on; more surged forward, trampling their own kind to reach him.
Sharp claws tore through his skin. A nimble zombie latched onto his leg, yanking it off in one brutal motion.
“AHHH!”
Another leg followed, leaving only bloodied, bare bones.
His screams and gushing blood drove the zombies into a frenzy. Hordes from the street below converged, clawing their way up the building in a ravenous tide.
They were so hungry.
Horror–stricken, the fitness instructor let go of the rope
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dropping Brad to the ground.
Zombies poured off the balcony and walls like rabid dogs, pouncing on him the moment he landed.
He was swallowed whole by the horde, torn to pieces in seconds.
As Iris finished watching the live stream, her computer screen flickered and went dark–not due to a graphic content ban, but because the website’s servers had crashed.
City power and internet still worked, but unmanaged servers across the country were failing one by one.
Smaller servers in homes or offices had collapsed within days; larger corporate servers held on longer, but this major video platform was now offline.
The era of online chaos was ending.
Soon, no one would have the luxury of venting online–they’d be forced to face the apocalypse head–on.
Iris closed the website and opened her downloaded media library.
Lucky for her, she’d saved every available resource; endless movies and shows would keep her company in the lonely days ahead.
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Halfway through her meal and a movie, a shrill beep from her surveillance system jolted her.
Iris rushed to the control panel, where dozens of monitors lined the wall.
A small, easily overlooked screen in the corner glowed red.
Iris froze at the footage–it was from the warehouse she’d rented before the apocalypse.
She’d taken Summer and all her supplies on day one, forgetting
to remove the cameras.
Now, the feed showed her warehouse door being broken into— and thanks to the high–quality audio–enabled cameras, she could hear the voices outside.
“That woman rented this warehouse over two weeks ago. I saw delivery trucks coming and going nonstop–she must have a stockpile here!”
“But it’s rented to her! Breaking in is illegal!”
“Illegal? Are you joking? It’s the end of the world! Grab what we
can!”
“Exactly! She owes it to us to share!”
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A deafening crash echoed as the warehouse door was smashed
open.
The old landlord led a mob inside, only to stop short, stunned.
Fuck. It’s empty?
“Nick, this is the ‘overflowing stockpile‘ you promised?”
The landlord, Nick Wiseman, muttered, staring at the bare, paper–free space, “Impossible! I saw trucks here every day— she came several times a day, but there’s no way she moved everything!”
“You must have been mistaken! Delivery trucks don’t mean all the goods were for her! She probably picked up a few packages and left!”
“What a waste of time! We risked our lives coming here for nothing!”
The mob cursed and stormed out.
Furious, Nick glanced up, spotted Iris‘ camera, and smashed it with a stick.
The feed cut out.
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Iris leaned back in her chair, grinning.
She’d anticipated this–renting the warehouse was a decoy. With human nature laid bare in the apocalypse, a known stockpile would have attracted raiders in no time.
Better safe than sorry.
Watching their frustrated retreat filled her with relief and
amusement.
Still, she was petty–and that Nick who’d destroyed her camera?
She’d remember him.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
