Hans and the small squad of scouts and attack dogs carried on with their advance to the sixth and the seventh floors.
The empty corridors were filled with scattered bones and dried remains, devoid from the presence of one more special invisible zombie.
Their stealthy, predatory behavior and reliance on ambushing prompted Hans to name them as Stalkers. To him, no other name was fitting than that.
"That creature has eaten everything else indeed."
The stench of the dead assailed his nose, eyeing the bits and pieces left on the scene. A few skulls laid barren on the sides, the cracked jaws and wide mouths evoking an untold horror of the past.
Hans slowly collected the scattered meteorite shards on each floor, reducing the psychic energy pervading the air. Adrian and Dmitri’s pale faces blossomed back, their muscles relaxing from tautness.
Yet Hans worried of these mysterious meteorite shards, posing untold threat towards his progress and his growing army.
He touched another shard that scraped on the king-sized bed, leaving a trail that extended from the balcony. A body lay between the two, its stomach blasting off somewhere.
"Store!"
The meteorite shard pulsed waves of psychic energy to no avail. It trembled in place but was soon embraced inside a green net, turning into countless pixels like before.
"The shards have been collected. Let’s move on."
Silence ensued in the eighth and ninth floors, leaving Adrian and Dmitri with nothing to do. They gathered a few valuables left in the rooms—a few watches and necklaces.
"Carry these two corpses." Hans ordered on the way down, not planning to have these bodies devoured.
Their return to the apartment earned the surprised gazes of the survivors and the admiration of the soldiers.
The survivors stared at the stalkers’ corpses, one burnt and the other covered in bites, both filled with bullet wounds.
"Look, this zombie is different. Look at its sharp claws!"
"The soldiers and the Commander must be hurt, right?"
"Open your eyes! You think that looks injured to you?"
"The Commander looks terrifying..."
Their murmurs reached Hans’s ears, but he paid them no mind. He would use this opportunity to increase his prestige within their group.
A commander who could lead his soldiers and win battles would earn their loyalty and trust, something he had put emphasis on.
A squad moved the two corpses aside, pouring gasoline and setting it on fire. The crowd parted in the middle, letting Hans and his company inside the apartment building. Smiles took shape on their faces, joyous about the discovery of this small soldier group.
The fading view of the Commander’s back left an impression in their minds, knowing that their future would not be grim.
Hans returned to the Commander’s room, reviewing the map of the apartment complex he had asked from Dmitri.
He took a green pen and drew a diagonal line on the third apartment building. The icon of the shard slightly on top of it made Hans re-assess his future explorations in the city.
If these shards were scattered around, zombie evolutions and mutations were highly possible. The types of zombies would vary too, but he reckoned that it might take a while for them to fully evolve.
"Time isn’t on my side," Hans gripped the pen tightly, unrolling a city map retrieved from the office building. "The nearest urban fringe is around three kilometers away. The city proper is closer, however, around a kilometer or two in distance."
His eyes landed on an area settling in between the apartment complex and near Grefort City’s outskirts. These fringes were supposedly the future expansion areas of Grefort, but the sudden apocalypse turned it down.
"There are many things here. A sizeable police building, a small library, mall, a hardware store, two banks, convenience stores, and a medical clinic."
He marked several points of interest, particularly the medical clinic and hardware store at the center of the fringe. The mall was three blocks away to the north, with one of the banks situated nearby.
The second bank was on the other direction, much closer to Hans, but also to a suburb as well. Hans remembered that this area was a favorite by decent white-collar workers, taking house loans and setting up home.
Though most were probably single, Hans didn’t dare underestimate their numbers. The suburb spanned countless rows, ranging from 200 to half a kilometer in length.
Ignore the suburb? he contemplated, countless simulations running on his mind. He worried of the gunfire noise should his exploration team or soldiers encounter an emergency.
"We should clear these sections of the road. That’s going to take a lot of time..." he clicked his tongue and cursed the residents.
Aside from loaning houses, these white collars also liked to loan cars as well.
He knew he had no choice, but the possibility of cars flooding the streets could cripple his movement towards the city proper.
"That’s for the future," Hans sighed and fanned himself, "I should assign temporary jobs right now. The last apartment building shouldn’t be difficult, so I’ll leave it to Dmitri and the others. As for these survivors..."
He perked up and took another notebook from the bookshelf nearby, forming the initial survivor group policies and work rules.
"This should be enough..." he muttered, shifting his attention to giving temporary jobs and roles to both his soldiers and the survivors.
"We can’t stay like this, open and nothing else. Walls, more soldiers, electricity on the office building, and clearing the roads with cars."
Hans started drafting job descriptions, intent on fully reorganizing his camp into various fields—security, maintenance, cleaning, construction, and more.
"We’ll need three days. Secure, restructure, and then assess the next move."
He continued until the noon came, taking a break and opening a can of sardines.
In the afternoon, Hans called for Dmitri and the leaders of the survivors, handing them their responsibilities and roles.
Dmitri in the clearing operations, taking over the fourth apartment building, the convenience store, the gas station, then the roads.
Lira was tasked into the infirmary. It was now placed at the first floor where the large and emptied lounge room was located, to the right of the reception area.
Cody was assigned together with the three maintenance workers to handle the electrical work, checking the lines and assessing the blackout on the office building.
Marco, the stubborn teacher, was assigned to inventory things despite his great reluctance.
Roger was assigned to a group of soldiers, tasked to examine the cars in the parking lot and the roads. Hans wanted to know which ones were usable, recyclable, or useless. He thought that Roger’s expertise could prove handy in that area.
The next four hours turned the entire camp into a busy area. Soldiers dragged debris into piles, clearing off a large section of areas.
The survivors, newly assigned to work in teams, scavenged for food in the apartment buildings, scrubbed blood from the lobby, or helped the soldiers gather materials to set up a basic wall around the complex.
Three days passed in a blur.
Hans stood in front of the window, hearing the hammering of nails and construction of a low wooden wall.
A few soldiers ordered the survivors around, while the rest helped carrying heavy materials, tools, and wooden pieces.
Lira tended to the injured survivors, scolding them with her angelic voice. The patients could only wonder if she was being harsh or was bashful in her reprimands.
Work was difficult, but for the first time since the apocalypse, everyone felt purpose in their lives. Again.
Meanwhile, Marco laid on the counter in the reception area. Bags formed under his eyes—now surrounded with dark circles slowly expanding outward.
I may have worked on mathematical problems before, but none were as tiring as this! He inwardly complained.
Amidst his curses, a group of survivors approached him and reported a few supplies and tools missing inside the maintenance room.
Marco frowned, feeling that the days ahead would worsen. He stood up and spoke hoarsely, "What about the missing tools?"
A similar theft happened yesterday, but Marco dismissed it as miscount. Now that it happened again, suspicion rose within him.
"A few hammers, nails, tapes. I can’t remember which, but I know they were there." The survivor argued. They were about to finish a critical progress on the wall, and this just happened.
If more tools went missing, the walls wouldn’t be finished on time. If the walls weren’t finished on time, the survivors would be punished.
Hans’s work policies were a bit harsh, especially towards survivors giving inadequate effort on their assigned jobs.
Marco understood the plight of these few.
Harsh words were an icing to the cake. A beating was the main ingredient to push those few stubborn survivors into complete obedience.
And if you were already obedient but still beaten to a pulp, one would be infuriated—worse if the fault wasn’t theirs to begin with.
It was an experience that Marco had seen the past few days. To hear someone being so audacious would tarnish Hans’s trust upon them. That wasn’t a result Marco and the other leaders had planned.
"Okay, I’ll report it to the soldiers and haggle with them. You need not to worry about being punished. Leave it to me."
He composed himself and shooed the grateful survivors away.
"Damn it, who the hell is messing with the supplies and this time? If I find out that pesky insect, I will have him punished by solving differential problems!"
Marco strutted, carrying his inventory logs. Frustrated as he may be, he was afraid to mess up even more.
His eyes swept on the moving individuals, a sudden realization flashing on his mind.
"There’s this one guy who always disappears during work hours. No, I’ll report to Sir Alexei first and accuse that guy after."
Marco declared, unaware that a conscript had observed the entire event.
Kenji stared at Marco’s departing figure, recalling yesterday’s incident when he was assigned at the maintenance room.
A figure sneaked in, grabbing objects from a steel storage rack in the middle of the night. The lighting was dimmer than usual, yet Kenji recognized the figure from far away.
He hadn’t reported to the superiors, considering it inopportune.
However, now... What a coincidence.
He hastened towards Ryan’s room and knocked on the door three times.
"Squad Leader, I have something to report."
"Kenji? Come in." Ryan’s voice called out.
Kenji opened the door and stood in attention, "Mr. Marco is attending to his duties well, but a problem has been spotted in the maintenance room. Someone is stealing our materials, supplies, and tools."
"Oh? A troublemaker?" Ryan was intrigued, "Your face is screaming evidence. Tell me the full details."
Kenji handed a folded paper to Ryan. Ryan opened it and read through the text, widening his eyes over time.
This wasn’t just petty theft, it was intentional! The consequences, though small, would slow down the entire camp’s survival and progress.
Ryan’s anger brewed, wanting to catch the thief as soon as possible.
His eyes hovered to the bottom of the page where the outline of a person was drawn. A figure too familiar to Ryan and the survivors.