The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse-Chapter 71: Shadows of the Past

The tension in the air was palpable as the group gathered in the corner of the convenience store. They had fortified the entrance as best they could, stacking shelves, overturned carts, and boxes of stale candy to create a makeshift barricade. Outside, the groans of zombies persisted, a constant reminder of the world’s decay.

Mallory leaned against the counter, fiddling with an expired pack of gum she’d found. "So," she said, popping a piece into her mouth and grimacing at the chalky texture, "are we just going to sit here all night, or does someone have a brilliant idea?"

"We need to rest," Greg said, his voice steady as he surveyed the group. "Moving in the dark is suicide. We’ll leave at first light."

Alex, sitting cross-legged on the floor, twirled a small pocketknife in his hands. "You’re assuming they won’t break in before morning."

"That’s why we’re taking shifts," Clara said, her machete resting across her lap. She gave Mallory a pointed look. "And no, you don’t get to nap through the night like last time."

"I wasn’t napping," Mallory protested, puffing out her cheeks indignantly. "I was—uh—meditating."

"Snoring meditation?" Alex quipped, earning a snicker from Sam, who was perched on a stack of crates like a smug gargoyle.

"You people are relentless," Mallory muttered, crossing her arms.

As the banter continued, Blinky rolled over to Mallory’s side, chirping softly. It nudged her leg with its round body, its antenna flickering with a soft blue light.

"At least someone appreciates me," she said, patting the robot affectionately.

The group fell into a rhythm as the night wore on, taking turns keeping watch while the others rested. Sam, predictably, snored louder than should have been humanly possible, earning a few groans and half-hearted threats to smother him with a pillow.

Mallory, however, found herself unable to sleep. She sat near the barricade, staring out through a crack in the window at the dark, empty street. The faint glow of a distant fire illuminated the skyline, casting eerie shadows over the abandoned buildings.

"You okay?" Alex’s voice broke the silence.

Mallory turned to find him standing behind her, his expression unusually serious.

"Yeah," she said, shrugging. "Just... thinking."

"Dangerous territory for you," he teased, though his tone was gentle.

She chuckled softly. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the world pressing down on them.

"You know," Mallory said, her voice quieter now, "I used to think all I wanted was a quiet, uneventful life. Just me, my couch, and endless snacks."

"And now?" Alex asked.

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the faint light of the fire outside. "Now, I’m not so sure. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I still love my snacks. But... maybe having people around isn’t so bad. Even if they’re annoying and loud and make fun of my meditation."

Alex smirked. "Well, don’t get too sentimental on me. I might start thinking you actually like us."

"Perish the thought," she said with a grin, though there was a hint of warmth in her voice.

Their moment was interrupted by a sudden crash from the back of the store. The group was on their feet in an instant, weapons drawn as they moved toward the sound.

"Please tell me that was just a raccoon," Mallory whispered, gripping a rusted crowbar she’d picked up earlier.

"Raccoons don’t knock over shelves," Clara said grimly, her machete at the ready.

As they rounded the corner, they found the source of the noise: a woman in a tattered jacket, her face pale and drawn, holding a broken broomstick like a spear.

"Don’t come any closer!" she shouted, her voice shaking. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

"Whoa, whoa," Greg said, raising his hands in a calming gesture. "We’re not here to hurt you."

The woman’s eyes darted between them, wild with fear. "You’re lying. You’re just like the others."

"What others?" Sam asked, stepping forward with his usual nonchalance.

She flinched, gripping the broomstick tighter. "The raiders. They—" Her voice broke, and she took a shaky breath. "They took my brother. Please, I just need to find him."

Mallory’s heart ached at the desperation in the woman’s voice. Despite her usual cynicism, she couldn’t ignore someone in need.

"Okay," she said, stepping forward and lowering her crowbar. "We’ll help you."

"What?" Clara hissed, glaring at Mallory. "Are you crazy? We don’t even know her."

"Yeah, well, we didn’t know you either," Mallory shot back. "And look how well that turned out."

Clara muttered something under her breath but didn’t argue further.

The woman’s grip on the broomstick loosened slightly, though her expression remained wary. "Why would you help me?"

"Because it’s the right thing to do," Greg said simply.

"And because I can’t let Alex keep making jokes about my moral compass," Mallory added, earning a snort from Alex.

The woman hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Thank you. My name’s Marisol."

"Welcome to the party, Marisol," Sam said with a grin. "Try not to die—it’s bad for morale."

They spent the next hour planning their next move, piecing together what little information Marisol could provide about the raiders and their hideout.

"Sounds like a suicide mission," Clara muttered as they prepared to leave.

"Probably," Mallory agreed, shouldering her bag. "But hey, what else are we going to do? Sit around and wait for the zombies to invite us to tea?"

As they stepped out into the night, the group couldn’t help but feel a renewed sense of purpose. For better or worse, they were in this together.

"Don’t forget to rest tonight, we always wake up with new problem to solve" Mallory reminding them as she look like a tired zombie that just want to lie down, but there’s no zombie who just lie down! They are all energetic and never stopping.

"If there’s a zombie just lying down, I will surely be friends with it" Mallory laments.

"As if they want to be friends with you" They argued.

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