Rewrite the Apocalypse dream (by Dee Cari) novel Chapter 144

Chapter 144 A picnic in the dark

Finned

convoy crawled through the choked streets for another grueling hour, nearing the outer rim of the city. Aurora was violently fractured down the middle. One half of the skyline was a roaring furnace of unchecked structural fires, turning the clouds into a canopy of glowing orange ash. The other half was plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness. From the surrounding shadows, a relentless symphony of guttural snarls and shuffling footsteps vibrated off the concrete walls.

The convoy finally veered off the highway, pulling into a sprawling, dilapidated gas station engulfed in darkness. The heavy diesel engines idled down into a low rumble. Will ran straight up to the van, tapping urgently on Joanna’s window.

“We’re holding here for thirty minutes,” Will said, his breath plumbing in the cold. “The men need to eat, and we have to siphon fuel to top off the trucks. Keep your eyes sharp.”

Joanna opened her door and stepped out onto the cracked asphalt. Beside her, Julian stretched his arms, faint blue static still popping lazily across his jacket. Rachel and Kailee climbed out from the other side, rolling their shoulders to shake off the claustrophobic drive.

The team walked casually toward the edge of the dark perimeter, completely oblivious to the sudden, icy shift in the atmosphere around them.

As they passed the military trucks, the soldiers went entirely rigid. Men who had survived a week of the apocalypse collectively held their breath, shrinking back into the shadows of their armored vehicles. They gripped their rifles tightly, watching in stunned, terrified silence. Unnerved by the team’s relaxed demeanor, the escort no longer saw them as civilian assets. To the military, they were walking forces of nature, and the soldiers were fully aware they were resting in the shadow of legends.

Looking for a place to sit, Joanna spotted a heavy iron-framed picnic table bolted directly into the concrete near the dark storefront. She walked over casually, wrapped her fingers around the metal bracing, and gave a sharp, effortless tug.

With a loud screech of tearing metal, her enhanced strength sheared the thick anchor bolts clean out of the pavement. Lifting the massive, heavy structure easily with one hand, she turned and walked back toward the van as if she were carrying nothing more than a folded lawn chair.

The surrounding soldiers went dead silent. A private dropped his plastic ration pack straight into the dirt, his eyes bulging in the gloom.

“Did she just… she ripped it right out of the concrete,” he whispered frantically to his sergeant, his voice cracking. “She lifted that whole picnic table like it was a sheet of paper!”

Before the sergeant could even process the words, Joanna vanished in a brief, silent blur, teleporting the final ten feet to close the distance. She set the heavy table down next to the van with a soft, controlled thud, completely unfazed by the collective gasps and terrified murmurs of the military escort.

Nodding to her stunned team, Joanna climbed into the back of the van. Sheltered from the prying eyes of the soldiers by the dark, heavy tinted windows, she opened her spatial storage. She began pulling out fresh, steaming containers of food she had preserved perfectly in stasis, arranging them efficiently into a massive crate to carry outside.

When she stepped out and laid the spread across the ripped-up picnic table, the team’s jaws dropped. It was an incredible, impossible feast for a city rotting through its first week of an apocalypse.

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Chapter 144 A picnic in the dark

The table practically groaned under the weight of the luxurious spread:

Finished

The Main Course: Thick, perfectly grilled ribeye steaks, still sizzling and leaking rich garlic-butter juices into the foil pans.

The Sides: A massive bowl of loaded mashed potatoes whipped with heavy cream, melted cheddar cheese, and crispy bacon bits, alongside a pan of seasoned roasted asparagus.

The Comfort Food: A mountain of golden, crispy southern-fried chicken thighs that smelled faintly of buttermilk, garlic, and cracked black pepper.

The Freshness: A crisp garden salad tossed with ripe cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and fresh avocado slices, completely untouched by the city’s decay.

The Drinks: Chilled glass bottles of classic Mexican Coca-Cola and artisan lemonades, ice-cold condensation still dripping down the glass.

“Oh my god,” Rachel breathed, the rich aromas instantly erasing the sour, toxic stench of the burning city. “Joanna, you are an absolute angel.”

Julian grabbed a steak knife with a wide grin, his fingers sparking with a brief, ecstatic blue pop of electricity. “Forget Captain Crispy. You’re the official Captain of Catering.”

As the team happily dug into the warm, luxurious meal under the shadow of the ruined city, the rich scent wafted straight across the freezing asphalt. The soldiers, chewing on dry, chalky military MRES in the dark, could only stare across the parking lot in absolute, agonizing envy.

The team sat gathered around the stolen picnic table, entirely lost in their own world. If someone masked the burning skyline and the constant, distant groans of the undead, they would look exactly like a group of friends hanging out at a backyard barbecue.

“I’m serious,” Julian said around a massive mouthful of mashed potatoes, pointing his fork at Rachel. “If your mental waves can override their hunger, you need to make the next one do a backflip. For science.”

“I manipulate brains, Julian, I don’t teach gymnastics,” Rachel laughed, reaching for another piece of fried

chicken.

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