They had survived.
But what followed was sothing more soul-crushing than death—hunger.
The food stored in the workshop had never been plentiful. It was a small amount of supper for the night watchn. Several dozen growing children had what appetites. In their terror and exertion, they had devoured it all in a single night.
Now, another whole day had passed. A full day and a night without so much as a drop of water.
At an age when they were growing, every child was hollow with hunger, their eyes sunken, their lips cracked and dry.
Patrick’s own stomach had long since stopped its protests, leaving only a hollow, dizzying pain.
“Patrick… I’m so hungry…” A little boy curled up beside him, his voice barely a whisper, like he was talking in his sleep.
Patrick reached out, wanting to ruffle his hair like he usually did, only to find his arm felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.
He had been everyone’s rock. He had once charged out of the cellar, saving twenty-odd of his stunned friends from the claws of the zombies.
But now, he didn’t dare.
He had watched with his own eyes as his best friend, a boy he’d been stealing apples with just yesterday, was bitten by a zombie, then twisted and roared as he turned into a monster right in front of him, lunging forward. Even though he had finally reacted, swinging a wooden club to end his friend’s suffering, that twisted, familiar face, that hoarse, familiar cry, were branded into his mind like a hot iron.
He still dared to go out by himself, but he no longer dared to take a single one of his friends with him. He was afraid. Afraid of losing them.
But with just himself, how could he possibly feed these fifty-plus hungry mouths?
For the first ti, Patrick felt what true despair was.
Just then—
DONG—!
The distant, heavy chi of the bell, without any warning, pierced through the thick layer of earth and resounded through the cellar!
All the children jolted, their heads snapping toward Patrick.
In an instant, a light nad hope ignited on their gaunt faces.
“It’s the bell! The bell from the village clock tower!”
“Are the adults here to save us?!”
“No… that’s not right.” Patrick frowned.
He knew better than anyone that the adults in the village… had already… beco monsters.
So who rang the bell? Why? This near-suicidal act… what was it for?
He had no ti to think.
A thought struck him like a bolt of lightning! The bell… he could hear it! From the vents at the top of the cellar, he could faintly hear the rising and falling roars of zombies being agitated!
Those sounds… they were moving away!
The bell was luring all the zombies away!
An opportunity! This was their only chance!
A dazzling light erupted in Patrick’s eyes.
He shot up from the ground, forcefully shoving aside the dizziness brought on by hunger.
“Guys! Listen to !” His voice was hoarse, but filled with an unshakable power. “The bell has lured the monsters away! This is our chance! We have to go out and find food, or we’ll all starve to death in here!”
The children looked at each other, fear flickering in their eyes, but even more powerful was their craving for food!
“I need so people to go with .” Patrick scanned the room. “Anyone who’s willing, stand by my side! We’re going to the bakery!”
Without a mont’s hesitation, a dozen or so of the older, still-stronger boys struggled to their feet, gathering around Patrick.
The foraging team was quickly ford.
Patrick personally moved the stones from beneath the vent and led the team, one by one, out of the narrow, foul-slling ventilation duct.
The air outside, while still carrying the scent of blood, was a hundred tis fresher than in the cellar.
The village was eerily silent. Besides the rhythmic, spaced-out chis of the bell from the distant clock tower, there was no other sound.
The terrifying monsters that had road the streets were really gone.
Patrick glanced at the lone clock tower in the distance, his heart a mix of confusion and gratitude. On one hand, he couldn't guess who would ring the bell at a ti like this, or why. What was the point of this nearly suicidal act? On the other hand, he was incredibly grateful for this opportunity that had co from nowhere.
Whoever you are, thank you for appearing…
He didn't hesitate any longer. Crouching low, he gestured to the team behind him and began to quickly stealth toward the bakery.
The door to the bakery was ajar. Pushing it open, a mix of grain, yeast, and a slightly sour aroma washed over them. To this group of starving children, it was the scent of heaven.
“Quick! Pack! Fill the bags!”
“Be quiet!” Patrick whispered his commands.
The children imdiately got to work, stuffing the hard, black loaves from the shelves, which were wrapped in burlap sacks, into their arms.
To bring back enough food in one trip, Patrick had brought nearly all the older boys who were willing to co. A dozen of them, cramd into the not-so-large bakery, made it feel a bit crowded.
The external threat seed to have vanished, and the boys’ tense nerves had relaxed slightly.
“I… I’m just gonna eat one piece… just one… I’m so hungry…” A younger boy, hugging half a loaf of black bread, couldn’t resist and brought it to his mouth.
“Fred! You can’t eat that! This is for everyone!” An older boy next to him imdiately scolded, reaching out to snatch it away.
“Just one bite! Just one bite!” Fred clutched the bread to his chest, tears welling in his eyes.
“No!”
“Just one bite!”
“Let go!”
The argunt grew louder, quickly escalating from a verbal spat to shoving.
Smack!
Fred was sent stumbling, knocking over a stack of empty bread baskets.
The baskets clattered onto the floor with a harsh, jangling noise.
“All of you, shut up!”
Hearing the commotion, Patrick rushed over, his eyes blazing. He lowered his voice to a furious roar. “What ti do you think this is?! Are you trying to lure all the monsters back here?!”
He was trembling with rage. Normally, he would have given each of them a punch to calm them down. But now… did he dare?
He didn’t dare!
Any loud noise could bring disaster upon them all!
Patrick was in an unprecedented predicant. He looked at the two boys before him, still glaring at each other, ready to fight again at any mont, and for a mont, he was at a loss.
However, he had no more ti to hesitate.
Because the “commotion” he had tried so hard to avoid, had already had its effect.
“Hhhh…”
A hoarse, low growl drifted in from the bakery’s wide-open front door.
Patrick’s body froze.
Slowly, with extre stiffness, he turned his head, looking out at the dim street beyond the doorway.
A staggering figure erged from around the street corner.
Then a second, and a third…
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