Chương 66: Delegation

CRASH! With Vince adding his explosive force to the heave, the heavy sedan was effortlessly flipped over and shoved onto the curb. Aside from Ben, the other men who had helped push the car exchanged nervous, awe-struck glances, stealing fearful peeks at Vince, who was casually rolling down his sleeves. The moment he had laid his hands on the chassis, the car had felt completely weightless. Every single one of them had felt it. They had all hidden in their apartments and watched Vince slaughter the zombie horde.

But seeing him smash a rotting skull with a steel pipe was one thing; these young men secretly felt that with a good weapon and a bit of courage, they could probably do that too. But physically flipping a one-ton car...? That was pure, terrifying strength that practically transcended the boundaries of human biology. Noticing his men's attention completely fixated on Vince, Ben hurriedly clapped his hands to snap them out of it.

"Alright, alright, don't just stand there. Let's get the next one. Vince, if you wouldn't mind lending a hand again... we're struggling a bit here..." Vince had originally planned to figure out a way to move the cars himself and merely asked them for an assist. To save time and prevent Ben from awkwardly overpromising and failing to lift it again, Vince proactively stepped into the center position, shouldering the vast majority of the weight. With Vince's participation, they repeated the process.

In no time, the three wrecked cars that had been blocking the majority of the avenue were flipped onto the curbside. Ben then organized his men to drag all the scattered corpses on the asphalt into a neat pile against a corner wall. Shortly after, aside from a few dark bloodstains, the street was completely clear of obstacles. Seeing the road clear, Vince signaled Cody to drive the 10-kWh RV over to the supermarket entrance to hook up the power.

He wanted to help them resolve their food crisis as quickly as possible. Otherwise, leaving his two fully stocked RVs parked right beneath his apartment felt like a massive liability. Although many had witnessed his brutal display of strength today—and anyone with half a brain knew to give his building a wide berth—starvation drove people to madness. A starving man pushed to the brink of death was capable of doing things a rational person couldn't even fathom.

"Let's go. We'll head inside and take a look first..." Seeing Cody jogging off to get the RV, Vince beckoned Ben to lead the way into the supermarket. When Vince had visited this supermarket previously, it still had a decent amount of stock. But after being relentlessly swept by dozens of desperate survivors, only stripped, scattered shelves and a few useless daily necessities remained piled on one side of the room. Even the rotting, moldy vegetables and fruits had been wiped clean.

There wasn't even a single lollipop left.

"Right this way, look..." Passing through a back door, Vince had assumed it would lead straight into the adjacent residential complex, but it actually opened up into a small, enclosed rear courtyard. On the left side of the yard was a large corrugated metal shed. Stacked inside were over a hundred sealed, 5-gallon jugs of purified drinking water, alongside two electric delivery tricycles.

On the right side was a flat-roofed concrete structure with a heavy iron door, sealed shut by a massive iron chain and a heavy-duty padlock. A manual hacksaw and several snapped metal blades lay discarded on the concrete nearby. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. It turned out the back of the supermarket doubled as a municipal water delivery station and a bulk storage warehouse. He had lived here for a year and never even knew it existed.

"This is the iron door?" Receiving Ben's affirmative nod, Vince cautiously approached. It wasn't that he didn't trust the man, but his recent experiences had given him a mild case of PTSD regarding sealed iron doors. He was half-expecting a mutant monster to burst out the moment he got close. He tapped the metal lightly with the butt of his short spear, then leaned in close to the doorframe and took a deep sniff. No movement. No scent of blood or rotting flesh. He finally relaxed.

"How are you guys planning to open this?"

"Once we hook up the power, we can use an angle grinder. One of the guys does home renovations, so he happened to have one in his apartment. This lock and chain are way too thick. Look here—that stuttering bastard's crew took turns with the hacksaw all morning and only managed to make this tiny groove." Vince leaned in and looked. Sure enough, there was only a shallow scratch on one of the thick iron links.

"Vince, the RV is here." The low rumble of an engine approached as Cody pulled the RV up to the alleyway. Ben immediately organized his men to daisy-chain several extension cords together, running a continuous line of power from the RV's external outlet all the way to the warehouse door. Ben pulled the heavy chain taut. Zack, one of the men who had been hiding with Ben earlier, pulled an angle grinder from his bag and plugged it into the extension cord.

The moment the spinning abrasive disc made contact with the thick iron chain, an ear-piercing screech echoed through the courtyard, sending a brilliant shower of orange sparks flying into the air. SCREEECH— Terrified that the spinning blade might shatter and send shrapnel flying, Zack worked incredibly carefully, pressing down with minimal force. The cutting process was agonizingly slow. Vince pulled Cody back several paces, maintaining a safe distance.

Before long, the piercing screech of the grinder attracted the attention of the other survivors scavenging nearby. More and more people filed into the small courtyard, until a crowd of thirty or forty people had gathered. It didn't just attract survivors. Because the yard shared a gate with the adjacent residential complex, wandering zombies inside the perimeter were also drawn by the noise.

They clustered against the iron bars of the gate, letting out continuous, guttural groans and slapping their rotting hands against the metal. Vince stood quietly by the doorframe. The vast majority of the people rushing in had their eyes glued to the warehouse; barely anyone noticed him standing in the periphery. He took the opportunity to carefully observe the crowd. Their Health Bars generally hovered between 40 and 60. Only a very rare few possessed high HP in the 70 to 80 range.

There were zero elderly people, and zero children. Vince lived in an older, established residential district. Demographically, there should have been a massive elderly population. Yet, looking at the crowd gathered here, there wasn't a single person who looked over the age of fifty. This brutal demographic shift painted a stark picture of Darwinian selection.

And this wasn't even the entire population of the complex; these were merely the residents of the two street-facing buildings whose stairwells happened to be clear of zombies, or who had managed to band together to kill the infected blocking their doors. A significant portion of the residents were likely still trapped in their apartments deeper inside the complex. CLANG. A crisp, heavy thud echoed out as the severed iron chain slipped off the handles and hit the metal door. It was open.

A few men struggled to maintain order as Ben and Zack stepped forward and hauled the heavy iron doors open. Instantly, the distinct, earthy aroma of raw rice, flour, and cooking oil, mixed with a hint of damp mustiness, washed over the crowd. The dim warehouse was divided into two main sections. One side was stacked high with wooden pallets groaning under the weight of massive sacks of rice and flour. The other side consisted of rows of heavy-duty metal shelving crammed with cardboard boxes.

At a quick glance, they were entirely filled with various brands of instant noodles and ready-to-eat meals. Dozens of massive jugs of cooking oil and assorted miscellaneous goods were neatly stacked along the walls. After a few seconds of stunned, absolute silence, the crowd erupted!

"Wow!"

"There's so much!"

"We're rich!"

"Ben... Ben! How... how are we splitting this?!" The eyes of the dozens of survivors packed into the courtyard burned with feverish, raw greed. They stared hungrily at the mountain of supplies, and those who recognized Ben immediately began shouting, demanding to know his distribution plan. Facing the intense, almost manic weight of the crowd's gaze, the diplomatic speech Ben had prepared suddenly caught in his throat. For a moment, he was completely at a loss for words.

"Everyone, quiet down! Quiet down!" He tried desperately to maintain order while frantically scanning the crowd. Suddenly spotting Vince standing quietly in the back, Ben looked at him like a drowning man clutching at a lifeline, his eyes pleading for guidance. Vince met his panicked gaze with absolute, chilling calmness. Then, he casually turned his head away, pretending he hadn't seen a thing. He wasn't running away from the problem; he was deliberately delegating the authority directly to Ben.

With his stats, he could easily suppress this entire mob with overwhelming violence, but there was zero tactical value in doing so. He had absolutely no interest in these supplies, so why on earth would he bind himself to the logistical nightmare of managing these survivors? These survivors would only truly survive in this brutal new world if they were forced to iterate internally and organically forge a new social order from the ground up.