Apocalypse Ground Zero: Refusing To Leave Home-Chapter 65: Kitchen Raid

Wei Lingyun moved through the hallway with controlled steps, his weight distributed evenly across each footfall to make sure that he wasn’t making a sound.

The house was dark. Quiet. And he didn’t need any of them putting their feet on the wrong board and alerting the survivors.

He paused at the top of the stairs, his hand resting lightly on the wall, and listened. Behind him, Jian Yuche and Zhou Chenghai waited without speaking.

The stairs descended into shadow and Lingyun took the first step, testing the wood beneath his foot before committing his full weight. Not a single whisper to betray their position.

He moved to the second step, then the third, keeping his body close to the wall where the boards were more stable. Yuche followed at a measured distance, his injured shoulder held carefully against his side. Chenghai came last, his breathing controlled and even despite the ribs that were still healing.

They moved in silence. No hand signals. No whispered coordination. Just the rhythm of careful descent and the awareness of each other’s positions.

Lingyun’s eyes tracked the darkness below, searching for movement, for shapes that didn’t belong, for any indication that someone was waiting.

Instead, the hallway at the bottom of the stairs remained empty. Alarmingly empty.

That was... not right.

Wei Lingyun stopped three steps from the bottom and held his position.

He listened to the house—the faint settling of old wood, the distant hum of something mechanical, the absence of human presence. The survivors had been loud earlier. Careless. They moved through the space like they owned it, their voices carrying through walls and floors without concern.

And now there was nothing.

Just silence.

He continued down until his feet touched the ground floor. The second he did, he moved to the side, clearing the stairwell for Yuche and Chenghai.

They emerged behind him without sound, positioning themselves in a loose formation that allowed for quick movement in any direction.

Lingyun’s hand rested near the gun tucked into his waistband. There was only two guns between the three of them. That shaped everything—how they moved, how they positioned, who led and who supported.

The kitchen was dead ahead. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Lingyun moved forward, noting that the living room was empty. He suppressed a shudder... it felt like they were walking into a trap, only he didn’t know where it was coming from.

They reached the kitchen entrance. Lingyun stopped and pressed his back against the wall beside the doorframe. Yuche took position on the opposite side, his good arm free and ready. Chenghai remained slightly behind, covering the hallway they’d just traveled.

Lingyun tilted his head, listening. No voices. No movement. No sound of breathing or shifting weight. He leaned forward slightly, just enough to see into the kitchen without exposing himself fully.

Empty.

The room was dark except for the faint light coming through the window above the sink.

The counters were visible as darker shapes against the wall, the table sat in the center, chairs pushed in at odd angles. No one was there. No one was waiting. Lingyun’s jaw tightened. He stepped into the kitchen, his eyes sweeping the space in a controlled pattern—corners first, then the open areas, then back to the entry points.

Then the smell hit him.

Rot. Sour and thick. The kind of smell that came from food left out too long, from garbage that hadn’t been taken out, and from careless consumption and no cleanup.

Lingyun’s nose wrinkled involuntarily. He breathed through his mouth and continued moving, his eyes adjusting to the low light.

The counters were covered in debris. Wrappers. Empty containers. Dirty plates stacked haphazardly with food still crusted on the surfaces. The sink was full of dishes, the water long since drained, leaving behind a film of grease and particles.

Yuche entered behind him, his movement careful and controlled despite the injured shoulder.

Chenghai followed, his eyes moving across the room in the same systematic pattern Lingyun had used. They didn’t speak. There was nothing to say yet. Lingyun moved to the cabinets and opened the first one.

Empty.

Not just low on supplies—completely empty. He opened the second. The same. The third revealed a single can pushed to the back corner, the label torn and unreadable. He pulled it out and checked the weight. Light. Probably empty or close to it.

He set it on the counter and moved to the pantry.

The door swung open with a faint creak.

The shelves inside were completely bare. Maybe a few scattered crumbs here an there, an empty box that had been torn open and discarded, but nothing else.

Lingyun stepped back and looked at the floor.

Garbage was scattered across the tiles—torn packaging, discarded food that had been partially eaten and then abandoned, spills that had dried into sticky patches. The survivors had gone through everything.

There was a single thing to eat in this house.

Chenghai moved to the refrigerator and opened it. The interior light didn’t come on. Power must have been cut or the bulb was dead. He leaned in, checking the shelves by feel and limited visibility. When he straightened, he shook his head once. Nothing.

Lingyun walked the perimeter of the kitchen, checking the spaces beneath the counters, the areas behind the table, anywhere something might have been stored or hidden.

He found more garbage. More evidence of waste.

But no food. No supplies. No water bottles or canned goods or anything that could sustain them for more than a day.

The survivors had stripped the kitchen completely.

Yuche moved to stand beside him, his eyes on the cupboards. "There’s nothing," he said quietly. Not a question. Just confirmation.

"Nothing," Lingyun agreed.

Chenghai joined them, his hands empty. "They went through months of food in a matter of weeks."

Lingyun nodded. There was no partial win here. No hidden stash they could salvage. No overlooked corner with a few cans or a bag of rice. Just absence and rot and the reality that staying inside was no longer sustainable.

He turned away from the kitchen and moved toward the exit. They needed to leave. The kitchen offered nothing, and standing in it only increased their exposure.

Yuche and Chenghai fell in behind him without needing instruction. They moved back through the doorway, back into the hallway, maintaining the same discipline they’d used on entry.

The house remained quiet.

Still no movement.

Still no voices.

The survivors were somewhere, but not here.

Not now.

Lingyun led them back to the stairs. Each step was controlled. Each pause deliberate. The possibility of ambush hadn’t disappeared just because the kitchen was empty. If anything, the absence made it more likely. People didn’t just vanish. They relocated. Regrouped. Waited.

They reached the top of the stairs without incident. The hallway stretched ahead, dark and still. Lingyun moved toward Rouxi’s room, his mind already processing what came next. There was no food left.

That changed everything. The house wasn’t a refuge anymore. It was a trap. A space that was consuming them slowly, draining their resources while offering nothing in return.

The kitchen was empty. The survivors had consumed everything. There was no food left.

That was the fact.

He just didn’t know what it meant for their future.