The Apocalypse Survival Manual (Three Days Before Doomsday, I Stockpiled Billions) novel Chapter 72

Chapter 72

Nicole couldn’t help laughing.

“Alright, I’ll hold onto it for you.”

Cola trotted back to Zeph and came to attention, as if he had just wrapped up a proper training session for the day.

As they switched back, Zeph asked, “How’s Poppy doing?”

“She’s doing great. Knows numbers up to 100 and the alphabet. You can quiz her yourself.”

Nicole was about to ask about Cola when shouting drifted up from downstairs. It got louder by the second.

She walked over to the stairwell and watched for a bit.

Some people had come back from a shelter and were trying to set up in the hallway. The residents weren’t having

As the flood kept rising, the shelters were getting packed.

People were hungry, barely sleeping, and constantly on guard against theft. Compared to that, sleeping in a hallway felt like an upgrade.

But for the people who lived there, it was a nightmare.

The disaster was already bad enough. Now strangers wanted to move into their shared space, eating, sleeping, living right outside their doors.

It felt like letting wolves camp outside your house. At any moment, they could break in.

No one could relax like that.

And it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. People had learned. No one was willing to be

generous anymore.

Floor after floor turned them away. Eventually, they made their way up to the 17th floor and started knocking.

This family from Apartment 403 looked terrible. Their skin was dull and sallow, their clothes filthy, their faces hollow from hunger. It was hard to even look at them.

Someone had clearly pushed them toward the 18th floor, the “problematic” floor.

They knew what kind of people lived up here, but they had no other choice. They dropped to their knees, crying.

“Please, just let us stay by the rooftop door. We won’t bother anyone.”

Nicole didn’t even hesitate.

“Don’t ask me. This building has a representative, Oliver. You’ve all agreed on that. If you’ve got a problem, go to him. If he can’t handle something this small, then maybe he shouldn’t be in charge.”

The family froze.

They got it.

They dragged themselves back down to the 13th floor and planted themselves there.

“We’ve lived here for over ten years,” the man shouted. “Let’s see who tries to kick us out! If we can’t stay here,

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fine. Call Oliver. Let him decide where we go.”

Ten minutes later, Oliver came storming up, furious.

He banged on the door, demanding that the 18th floor open up the rooftop entrance for them so they could live

there.

No one answered.

Oliver was faced with heavy, suffocating silence.

He almost kicked the door, but then he saw the rows of sharp metal spikes welded across it and stopped. He swallowed whatever he wanted to say.

No one was willing to give ground.

In the end, the family from Apartment 403 stayed on the 13th floor.

Days passed. The flood kept rising.

Under Nicole’s care, Cola slowly recovered. The patches on his skin dried up, and his ribs no longer stuck out.

With Zeph’s relentless training, muscles started to show.

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