Rebirth in the Apocalypse: I Have Unlimited Warehouse Space-Chapter 8 - : Marshall Manor

As Clove's large hand slid inside the bathrobe, Kelly's body stiffened instantly, and her face turned an even deeper shade of red.

The young girl's skin was so soft and smooth!

What was most striking, however, was the contrast between the innocent, youthful girl and the fiery, mature woman. The difference in their presence was undeniable.

If Clove had to describe it, he thought that Linda, a young woman, was juicy and quick to burn, and when he patted her butt during sex, she would know what to do next.

Kelly, on the other hand, was still a little stiff despite her daring seduction.

But!

The shyness and boldness of a young girl, as well as her youthful body, filled Clove with an interest in conditioning.

It was pretty obvious from Kelly's reaction that she hadn't had sex yet.

Her eyes remained wide open, and her thighs stayed tightly pressed together.

"Look good, you two." Nearby, Linda made a protest.

Kelly's body suddenly became more rigid. If Linda hadn't spoken, she might have given up, but now she was too afraid to continue.

Clove's large hand slowly withdrew from her bathrobe, patting Kelly's backside as he said, "We'll talk about this tonight. I've got things to do right now."

With that, Clove scooped Kelly up and placed her on the couch, striding out the door.

A slick, lingering moisture still clung to his fingers as they swung loosely.

On the couch, Kelly kept her head down, her face flushed with color.

Linda bit her lower lip tightly, her heart filled with resentment.

"You're such a shameless little bitch!" Linda spat through clenched teeth.

With a new rival in the picture, Linda's initial resistance to Clove, coupled with the events of last night, had caused her mindset to shift without her even realizing it.

Kelly flashed a cheeky grin at Linda. "You're no better than me. It's the apocalypse, of course I need to find a man to depend on."

"If the world hadn't ended, I'd have saved my virginity for my husband."

As the two women bickered over Clove, he had already made his way down to the fifth floor, starting from the tenth.

Wherever he passed, no zombies remained alive.

At the left-side room on the fifth floor, just as Clove was about to kick the door in, it swung open suddenly.

"Hey, bro, I didn't mess with your door," a man said, raising his hands in mock surrender with a smirk.

Clove raised an eyebrow. "Didn't expect to find someone alive."

The man, with brown hair, smiled. "There's always someone who makes it. I'm not like those idiots outside, sticking around when they know something's off."

"You're the guy who robbed the whole supermarket and got the cops called, right?"

"Can you spare me some food? I haven't eaten in a full day."

"I'm Lucius. I can pay you—200, 300? Whatever's enough for a meal!"

Clove shook his head. "Food's limited. If you've got the guts, just break into a room. There's always food in one of them."

"Also, it's the apocalypse now. What makes you think money still matters?"

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Lucius frowned. "You've got a point, but what if I get bitten by a zombie? Then I'm done for."

Clove shrugged, turning to the other door still tightly shut. He kicked it open with one swift motion.

The door flew open, and a zombie immediately screamed and charged out.

But before it could get close, Clove flicked his right hand, sending a bone-piercing knife flying. It struck the zombie perfectly in the eye.

"Oh my God! Jesus!" Lucius exclaimed in shock, his eyes wide. "How the hell did you do that?"

Clove didn't respond to Lucius. He simply walked over to the zombie's body and pulled the bone-piercing knife out. After confirming there were no other zombies or survivors in the room, he spoke in a calm, detached tone, "As long as you're strong enough, you can do it too."

"This stuff in this room is my loot. I'd advise you not to get any ideas, unless it's something I don't want. Then you can take it."

With that, Clove began rummaging through the cabinets, searching for anything useful.

Three bags of instant noodles were tossed into his space.

A can of ketchup followed, thrown into the same space.

A pack of canned soda—into the space as well.

An entire unopened pack of cheese, a large bag of bread, and a box of butter were the fruits of Clove's search.

Lucius, who had followed him into the room, couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement as he watched the food disappear.

"That's... that's some kind of superpower, right?" he asked, his voice full of wonder. "Like a wizard, you can store food somewhere else?"

Clove, growing more and more annoyed, suddenly turned and aimed the barrel of his gun at Lucius's head. His voice was cold as he spoke, "If you talk again, I'll put a bullet in your head."

"This is a superpower—space-type, understand?"

"If you're lucky enough, you might get a superpower too. But only if you manage to survive for another year."

Though Lucius was noisy, Clove considered him the first unfamiliar man he had met in this apocalypse who didn't show any hostility. Given the amount of decaying zombie bodies in the building—some already starting to rot and stink—Clove decided it would be necessary to find someone to clean up the mess. He certainly didn't want to leave that task to Linda or Kelly, simply because the smell was unbearable. If the stench couldn't be removed, it would be a bigger problem.

"Alright, alright. I just want a little food. Just enough to fill me up. I'll do anything for you," Lucius immediately shifted gears, now focused on his hunger.

Hearing this, Clove felt a sense of satisfaction. This was a smart guy, one who knew how to seize opportunities.

"There are a lot of zombie bodies in the building. Clean them up, and I'll give you these as payment."

"If I find you slacking off, you'll find out just how serious the consequences are." With that, Clove pulled a bucket of instant noodles and a bag of bread from his space and handed them to Lucius.

"Now, get to work," he said, patting Lucius on the shoulder before heading to the fourth floor.

Lucius stared at the food in his hands, then at Clove's retreating figure. Taking a deep breath, he placed the food inside his home, preparing himself to be a good little janitor for the time being.

Facing the decaying, rotten zombie corpses, Lucius had to swallow back the bile rising in his throat. He painstakingly worked, throwing the zombie bodies out of the windows, one by one.

Norton City, Marshall Family Estate.

As the leader of Norton City's underground forces, Quincy Marshall sat at the head of the dining table, cutting into a steak streaked with blood as he spoke. "Lange, what were my orders?"

"Can you repeat them for me?"

Beside him, Lange was completely naked, his body covered in blood, with deep lash marks leaving him unable to make any sudden movements.

Trembling, Lange spoke, "Kill that bitch, kill the one who killed Marshall."

"Boss, when I called Nelson and the others, they didn't respond. The zombies were almost climbing onto the helicopter, so I had no choice but to turn back."

"Boss, I know what she looks like, and I swear I'll kill her!"

"Please forgive me. I'll get you what you want."

Quincy Marshall, dressed in a white silk shirt, chewed his steak slowly as he replied, "An order is an order."

"Even now, in the apocalypse, am I not still your boss?"

"However, since you did bring the helicopter back for me, I'll let you off this time. But you need to take people into Norton City and kill that bitch!"

"Otherwise, your family will be fed to the zombies."

Lange slowly lowered his head. "Yes, Master."

Inside the dining room, foreign mercenaries in camouflage outfits watched Lange's humiliation, but none of them seemed to react.

Before the apocalypse, they fought for money, served for money.

And now, they fought for food, for safe shelter, for the meals that would fill their families' stomachs.

Outside the Marshall Manor, which spanned several dozen square kilometers, a series of barbed wire fences kept the zombies out—and also kept any survivors seeking help from getting in.

A dense crowd of hungry survivors, dragging their families along, gathered outside, waiting for the mercy of those inside. At the entrance, a heavy machine gun aimed at all of them.

"Food! We want food!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs.

Before the words had even faded from the air, the distinctive rat-a-tat-tat of the machine gun rang out.

Where the bullets passed, blood flowed in rivers. The crowd was mowed down like wheat before the scythe.