Chapter 29: Tenth Day

In the digital confines of the owner's chat group, Benjamin 's declaration sent shockwaves through the community. The surreal price tag on a pack of instant noodles—2000 dollars—sparked disbelief and fear, a stark manifestation of the desperation wrought by the relentless snowstorm.

Some owners clung to a thread of humor to veil their anxiety, while others, voice quivering with barely concealed panic, clung to the hope of normalcy's return. The reality, however, was unyielding; the snow continued its icy siege, and the light-hearted jests about zombies seemed a luxury of a world now lost.

Phoenix observed from a distance, his chuckles echoing in the warmth of his secure haven. He knew too well the foolishness of underestimating this catastrophe—a calamity where zombies would be preferable adversaries, for at least they could be fought.

Amidst the growing unease, Benjamin 's flaunted wealth and apparent indifference belied his underlying fear—a fear that compelled him to secure sustenance at any cost. His actions, though veiled in nonchalance, had a ripple effect, sowing the seeds of panic and revealing the true value of food in this new, frozen world.

As the reality of the situation took hold, homeowners were faced with a moral dilemma: sell their precious supplies for a hefty sum or aid those in dire need. Benjamin 's hefty offers turned neighbor against neighbor, and the moral fabric of the community began to fray.

Hannah's heart-wrenching pleas for her infant daughter laid bare the grim truth—compassion was now a luxury few could afford. The community's silence in response to her cries was a chilling testament to the survival instinct that had taken root.

Phoenix's memories of Hannah from a previous life painted a different picture—a woman who survived not by strength but through manipulation, extracting sympathy and aid from others. He watched her current plight with detached curiosity, his mind probing the enigma she presented.

Uncle Isaac, the security guard, was the solitary beacon of compassion, extending a helping hand to Hannah —a kindness she vowed never to forget.

As supplies dwindled, money's fleeting power was on full display. Benjamin 's purchases provided him with temporary security, but Phoenix foresaw the impending realization that would dawn on the community: supplies were the new currency, and money was little more than paper.

With Benjamin 's actions setting a precedent, the community's once-generous spirit evaporated, replaced by a miserly grip on their dwindling provisions. The neighborhood, once a tapestry of shared lives and open doors, transformed into a mosaic of isolation and hoarding.

On the tenth day of the apocalypse, the harsh reality set in for Mira and Iris. The scant supplies that once seemed endless now teetered on the brink of depletion. The last pack of compressed cookies—a humble reminder of their dire circumstances—sat on the coffee table, a symbol of their plummeting fortunes.

They sat, huddled in blankets, the weight of their situation etched on their faces. Once disdainful of such meager fare, they now guarded each crumb with a fervor born of necessity, a testament to the transformative power of survival. In this new world, where each day could be their last, the value of life was measured by the food they could scrounge—a grim reality that spared no one, not even the once privileged.