The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 671

**Chapter 671: Digging for Survival**

I’m not naive; it’s abundantly clear that we have to follow Theresa’s lead. Our only chance lies in escaping this dire situation.

As soon as she issued her commands, the group sprang into action, rushing to grab shovels, their faces a mix of determination and dread.

In the midst of the chaos, Clara, with a feigned innocence, chimed in, “Harrance, I’m hurt. My waist is killing me.”

“Then don’t move. Just rest over there,” he replied, trying to maintain a sense of order amidst the turmoil.

“Rest my *ss,” she shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Before Harrance could elaborate, a sharp, authoritative voice sliced through the air.

Theresa, unwavering and fierce, declared, “As long as you can breathe, you work!”

Harrance felt a wave of frustration wash over him at her words. “Clara is seriously injured; there’s no reason to force her to work.”

“Why shouldn’t she?” Theresa retorted, her tone icy. “Because she’s bold enough to cry and scream? Because she’s shameless enough to try and steal someone else’s partner?”

At this, Harrance’s anger boiled over. “This is my personal matter; it’s none of your business!”

“Indeed, it’s none of my concern,” she replied coolly. “But your wife came to me, begging for your life. She would have done anything for you, even sacrificing herself.

“She’s worried sick about you, unable to sleep, yet still manages to support everyone back at the base. Whatever you do with your new lover is irrelevant to me; your injuries are not my burden. I’m merely an outsider here.

“But in my domain, everyone works. That’s my rule!”

Favoritism? That’s not my concern either. Here, when I say everyone works, I mean it.

Theresa’s words were like a whip, each syllable punctuating the air with authority.

Clara, her eyes brimming with tears, glanced at Harrance, desperation etched on her face. “Harrance… she’s targeting me…”

“Go work,” he replied, his voice devoid of warmth.

Under the pressure from Theresa’s presence and her biting remarks about Lily, Harrance’s demeanor shifted, and he seemed to regain his composure.

After reluctantly setting Clara down, he picked up a shovel, handed another to Clara, and joined the digging crew, his expression hardening into a mask of resolve.

With no support, Clara grasped the shovel, her reluctance evident as pain shot through her body with every movement.

“Hurry up, Miss Side Chick,” Theresa barked, her tone dripping with disdain.

The insult stung, and Clara’s cheeks flushed crimson with a mix of frustration and humiliation. How could Theresa be so brazen—calling her a side chick?!

But after enduring kicks and slaps from Theresa, and with Harrance unable to come to her defense, Clara had no choice but to grumble under her breath and begin digging.

The kick she had taken earlier throbbed painfully in her waist; even the act of walking felt excruciating. Each thrust of the shovel sent jolts of agony through her aching body.

While Clara suffered, many of the onlookers found a certain satisfaction in her plight.

At this rate, it seemed likely they would have to endure the night here, trapped in this grim scenario.

“Everyone, take a meal break first. Rest for half an hour, then we’ll continue,” Theresa instructed, her voice firm yet laced with an underlying concern.

“Yes!” came the chorus of replies, a mix of relief and fatigue evident in their tones.

After hours of relentless digging and an exhausting day of combat, everyone was utterly drained.

Theresa distributed boxed meals from her supplies, ensuring that everyone received nourishment.

She even handed some to Calvin, who was stationed as a guard, taking the opportunity to assess the zombie situation and fortify the steel wires surrounding them.

On Harrance’s side, however, the team paused as well.

Unfortunately, no boxed meals were allocated to them.

Theresa had come to rescue them, but she hadn’t promised any food.

Harrance’s team watched with envy as the opposite group opened their boxes, revealing delicious, aromatic meals that wafted through the air. Their eyes widened in longing.

“We want to eat too,” Harrance said, turning to Clara with a hint of desperation. “Clara, get the food out.”

All their supplies had been carried by Clara, the one with the space-based ability.