The Apocalypse Took Everything, This Time I Hoard It All First
Chapter 32: Start Cleaning Up

Chapter 32: Chapter 32: Start Cleaning Up

The next second, the whirlwind Rollo emitted made all of its fur stand on end. Its already roly-poly body instantly resembled a bloated, bristling golden pig, looking utterly ridiculous.

But the expected gust of wind never came. Luna Dawson’s hair didn’t stir in the slightest.

Instead, a loud "PFFFT—" suddenly echoed, followed by a thick, foul stench that quickly filled the living room.

This sudden development made Wayne Dawson and the others on the sofa jump up, gagging. Hector clutched his stomach, roaring with laughter. "Ah! Rollo farted! Hahaha, it stinks, it stinks!"

Even Kevin Keane and his companions, who had just finished cleaning up and were walking over, couldn’t help but chuckle at the ridiculous scene.

Exasperated, Luna Dawson ran over to Evan Olson. "Brother Evan, you should do it!"

"I can give it a try, but no guarantees."

Evan Olson chuckled, warning her in advance.

He slowly opened his hand, holding it about twenty centimeters from Luna Dawson’s shoulder. A gentle yet powerful whirlwind instantly surged from his palm, precisely enveloping her damp hair and blowing it all backward.

In just a few moments, Luna Dawson’s long hair was refreshingly dry, the strands feeling fluffy and soft.

Meanwhile, a thin sheen of sweat had formed on Evan Olson’s forehead.

"I only just awakened my superpower, so I’m not very skilled with it yet. A short burst is enough to drain me," he explained, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Luna Dawson touched her hair and found it was completely dry. She excitedly patted Evan Olson on the shoulder. "Brother Evan, you’re the one I can count on!"

With that, she skipped cheerfully up the stairs.

Standing nearby, Kevin Keane’s expression darkened slightly. He said flatly to Blake Blue, "Sawyer, Lynn Shelby is on watch tonight. Let’s go back and get some sleep."

As he turned to leave, he acted as if he hadn’t noticed Evan Olson beside him and bumped his arm against him.

Evan Olson, already weak from superpower exhaustion, staggered from the impact.

Blake Blue quickly steadied Evan Olson, an embarrassed look on his face. "He probably didn’t see you, sorry about that. We’ll head back now." With that, he hurried to catch up to Kevin Keane.

In the living room, Evan Olson was left standing alone, clutching his arm with a bewildered expression, completely failing to understand the reason for Kevin Keane’s sudden action.

The next morning, the group was already seated at the table, having a simple breakfast of stir-fried noodles with egg.

The initial plan was to go out every day and deal with zombies. The zombies were still in their primary stage, and most had not yet developed Crystal Cores. They had to take this opportunity to clear out the villa complex as much as possible to ensure everyone’s safety.

As an upscale villa community, the surrounding walls and main gate were quite sturdy. The area consisted almost entirely of clusters of villas, with few non-residents, which reduced many potential threats.

The two villas the group occupied had ample supplies in their underground storerooms and cold storage units. They also had fully functional fuel-powered generators, so even with the widespread power outage, their heating, water, and electricity were all working fine.

Rollo, being a dog from the south, found the underfloor heating too warm to sleep on, so it would sleep either on the sofa or a cot.

There were nearly three hundred villas in the community. They had to deal with the wandering zombies first, then go door-to-door clearing out the completely overrun homes. This would make it much more efficient for the military when they eventually arrived to take control.

In the days that followed, the group used their villa as a base and began clearing the surrounding area, working their way outward.

After a week of adjustment, even Wayne Dawson, Rhonda Dawson, and Hector could follow in the middle of the group and kill zombies with crossbows without batting an eye.

Most of the villas in the community were still occupied; only a few were vacant. It was rare for an entire family to turn and be wiped out simultaneously. Most people became zombies after being bitten or scratched, too afraid to fight back.

The property management building had tragically been smashed to smithereens on the day the meteorites fell. The security guards and staff who turned into zombies had all been eliminated by Luna Dawson’s group.

For now, everyone in the villa community was fending for themselves. Only those who knew each other before the apocalypse had any occasional contact.

For the time being, no one had been reckless enough to try and proclaim themselves ruler of the area.

After all, the people living in this neighborhood were all from influential backgrounds.

Most people had also hoarded plenty of supplies at home. Since it was the middle of winter, a family could survive for several years on their food stores alone, provided they encountered no major accidents and could maintain proper storage conditions.

When other survivors noticed a group voluntarily clearing out zombies, some merely scoffed and watched, remaining unmoved.

Others remarked that there were still good people left in the world, grateful that someone else was dealing with the danger so they wouldn’t have to face the zombies themselves.

No creature is more complex than a human being, capable of both extreme darkness and infinite nobility.

On this day, Luna Dawson’s group headed out at eight in the morning as usual. The morning clearing team consisted of Kevin Keane, Lynn Shelby, Evan Olson, Luna Dawson, Rhonda Dawson, and Hector.

The second team would take the afternoon shift, ensuring their home base wasn’t attacked while they were away.

The group had only just started walking toward the east gate when they spotted a van parked beside one of the villas. A woman had her body twisted around, clinging tightly to the man in the driver’s seat, her right hand impatiently clawing at his collar.

The woman’s head was buried in the man’s neck, nuzzling him incessantly. If not for the man’s ashen skin, terrified eyes, and the bloody, mangled mess of his chest—visible only upon closer inspection—the scene might have appeared passionate and romantic.

Lynn Shelby crept forward. Just as they neared the car window, the woman heard the sound and whipped her head around.

She was wearing a dark green, belted overcoat, and a cascade of beautiful, wavy curls framed her face. If one could ignore the chunk of torn flesh in her mouth, she was a stunning beauty with striking features.

Upon seeing a living person approach, she began to frantically beat against the car window, clawing and headbutting it. Tireless and impervious to pain, she slammed against it with such force that cracks began to spiderweb across the glass.

Lynn Shelby drew a short knife from their waist, yanked open the car door, and plunged it into the top of her head. Her delicate hands, adorned with an exquisite manicure, fell limp. She moved no more.

With the door open, a scalp-tingling chewing sound could be faintly heard from the back seat, a bloodcurdling noise carried on the whistling winter wind.

Lynn Shelby then pulled open the rear door. A boy, about seven or eight years old, was strapped into his seat by a seatbelt.

A fruit knife was sticking out of his neck. His eyes were a milky, vacant gray, and a clear set of bite marks was visible on his right cheek. His head was buried in the lap of an infant lying next to him, and he was chewing voraciously.

Hearing the door open, the boy slowly raised his head and turned. With dark red gore in his mouth and an unidentifiable organ clutched in his hand, he reached for Lynn Shelby.

Rhonda Dawson’s voice was strained. "He’s just a little kid..."

Without blinking, Lynn Shelby conjured an ice blade and drove it straight into the boy’s head. The little boy’s head slumped, and the piece of flesh in his hand dropped onto the car seat.

Lynn leaned forward and dispatched the infant as well. Meanwhile, Kevin Keane opened the passenger door and plunged his knife into the male zombie’s eye socket.

Luna Dawson spoke softly, "The virus doesn’t discriminate based on age... Should we take the van and check out the eastern section of the villas?"

"Whatever."

"Okay."

No one said anything more. They silently and quickly got into the van, nerves stretched taut. They scanned the surrounding villas vigilantly, not daring to let their guard down for a second.