Rewrite the Apocalypse dream (by Dee Cari) novel Chapter 166

Chapter 166 Are You Here To Rescue Us?

Finished

Briggs cut a sharp side glance at her. Before the world fell apart, he had done his research on the city’s prominent families and recognized her as a Harrington. But the sudden, arctic cold settling into Joanna’s eyes told him everything he needed to know-this was not going to be a happy family reunion. He kept his mouth shut, tracking the street below.

At the front of the civilian crowd, a tall, gaunt man stepped forward to confront Will’s soldiers. He appeared to be running the faction of mall survivors, heavily armed with mismatched tactical gear and rifles slung over his shoulders. Despite the weapons, his frame was dangerously thin. He had sharp, pinched features that gave him the distinct look of a weasel, paired with a vicious, predatory glaze in his eyes.

The gaunt, weasel-faced man stared up at Will, his grip tightening on his rifle. “Are you here to rescue us?”

Will followed the script perfectly, his voice a mask of bureaucratic indifference. “No. We only want to secure a few supplies. Commander Briggs is coming shortly with his convoy and will take you with them.”

e back of the crowd, Alice looked wary and deeply puzzled. Though her clothes were wrinkled, they re clean. She looked disheveled and a little gaunt. Only the beginning of the apocalypse and she looked a ot worse than the last time Joanna saw her.

The weasel-looking man instantly raised his gun, narrowing his vicious eyes. “No supplies for you. We heard the military isn’t even taking survivors.”

Will played along without missing a beat. “Alright, calm down. My commander is coming right after this. You can wait if you want to, but they will be taking some supplies from here. We expect your full cooperation.”

In the back, Alice looked thoroughly confused now, her brow furrowing as she tried to make sense of the conflicting orders.

Satisfied that the bait was taken, Will climbed back into the driver’s seat. The engines roared to life, and the convoy quietly drove away, turning smoothly at the intersection and leaving the agitated crowd behind.

In the wake of th oy’s departure, a heavy, volatile silence fell over the street, but it didn’t last long.

he group, Alice suddenly stepped forward, her initial confusion twisting into a sharp, eus. “The military won’t take survivors!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the crisp “What if they steal all our supplies? Don’t trust them!”

The weasel-faced man snapped his head around, his vicious eyes lighting up as Alice fed right into his paranoia.

“She’s right!” a man in the front yelled, shaking his fist.

“They’re going to starve us out!” another woman screamed.

A few more in the crowd instantly murmured in fierce agreement, their fear quickly hardening into a collective, dangerous rage. Up on the rooftop, Joanna watched her younger sister work the crowd with a grim, knowing expression, the trap now fully primed for Jax’s arrival.

Within minutes, the crowd’s anxiety curdled into a volatile, collective rage. Urged on by Alice and the weasel-faced leader, the angry survivors retreated back inside the glass doors of the Galleria, ready to

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Chapter 166 Are You Here To Rescue Us?

defend their stronghold against the arriving military.

minutes later, the heavy silence of the street was shattered again.

Finished

A second convoy tore across the asphalt, but these vehicles didn’t move with the disciplined precision of Briggs’s men. Five heavily modified pickup trucks and armored SUVS sped recklessly through the intersection, their tires screeching as they fish-tailed to a violent halt right outside the main gates.

The door of the lead vehicle kicked open, and Jax stepped out into the pale November sunlight.

He was a man who wore the brutality of the new world like a tailored suit. Broad-shouldered and imposing, Jax was draped in a dark leather duster that flapped in the biting wind, revealing a tactical vest beneath ined with a grotesque collection of scavenged hunting knives. A deep, jagged scar ran from his left temple down across his cheekbone, pulling the corner of his eye into a permanent, mocking squint. His hair was shaved/ brutally close at the sides, leaving a jagged strip of dark hair down the middle.

Jax looked up at the quiet mall facade, a cold, arrogant smirk spreading across his face. He possessed the terrifying charisma of a sociopath who knew exactly how desperate people were-and thoroughly enjoyed exploiting it. He unholstered a massive chrome revolver from his hip, gesturing toward the doors with an airy, casual malice that made it clear he didn’t just want the supplies; he wanted the slaughter that usually came with them.

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