Securing Our Home

24

It was evident that David Stone was an intruder. The other key in his pocket belonged to his home.

Shortly after the zombie outbreak, he chose Building 51 as his stronghold.

During the lockdown, Anne and I had no idea about this because we never went out.

I didn't know exactly what happened between him and the owner of 501, but it was likely a typical story of murder and robbery.

People like David, Chris referred to as "scavengers."

They would go to any lengths to clear their surroundings of any activity. Whether zombies or humans, it made no difference to them.

They didn't care about your purpose or intentions because merely appearing in their territory was seen as a threat.

Moreover, killing other survivors had numerous benefits—securing more survival resources and shelters, gaining a larger and safer activity range, and so on.

Therefore, in the early days of the apocalypse, many survivors actually died at the hands of other humans, becoming meaningless sacrifices.

However, Chris believed that scavengers were merely a reactionary product and wouldn't be the final destiny of humanity.

I hoped he was right.

Because I suddenly realized that I didn't want to encounter such people ever again.

Like true madmen who never play by the rules, scavengers were equally unpredictable and dangerous.

I thought I had done enough

—hoarding supplies discreetly before the outbreak,

regularly checking and patrolling the corridors and stairwells on the 9th floor,

and ensuring the blackout curtains were tightly drawn at home.

But I overlooked one thing—confirming whether someone lived in a building was irrelevant to them.

Sealing off all exits of a building had low costs and numerous benefits. If they were more aggressive, they could even set the entire building on fire.

While I was pondering how to engage in a tactical fight, they had already sharpened their knives.

In front of scavengers, ordinary people seemed as naive as children. All my preparations seemed childish and laughable when facing them.

Although David was dead, to secure our safety, I decided to immediately rebuild our defenses.

First, we needed to eliminate all the wandering zombies inside Building 51.

Anne, always eager for action, was more than ready for this proposal.

We resealed the exits on the ground floor and the basement with thick wire and then systematically cleared from bottom to top.

Because the space was relatively enclosed and somewhat distant from the ground, the killed zombies didn't attract a horde like last time.

"It seems that the pheromones only work within a certain range," Anne said, confirming the quiet downstairs before turning to me.

"Yeah... and besides the pheromones, there might be other factors at play,"

I recalled the zombies that were burned in the underground garage. They hadn't attracted a horde either.

Blood was likely another important factor.

The morning passed quickly.

With David's entrenching tool in hand, Chris seemed unstoppable, efficiently dispatching each zombie, much to Anne's envy.

Finally, we cleared the zombies from the stairwells and corridors.

Following them, I meticulously documented the situation in my notebook.

We killed a total of 12 zombies.

There were zero suspected survivors.

We could access 21 units.

The rooftop was inaccessible.

The building had about a hundred households, most doors tightly shut. We had no plans to break into any units. Even if there were zombies inside, they couldn't get out anyway. The rooftop couldn't be accessed by stairs, likely made into duplex units for the top floor residents.

Since all the top floor doors were shut and the elevator was inoperative, making access inconvenient, we abandoned the idea of using the rooftop.

After getting a general idea of the situation, I felt like I had struck it rich at the lowest point of my life.

"Anne, do you know what a windfall is?" I felt the hoarding instinct within me stirring, "Even if it's just a screw, I'll take it back with me!"

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