Large-Scale Zero-Dollar Shopping

June 15, Rongguang Avenue Commercial Street.

Since the afternoon of June 13, after a full day and a half of street-clearing operations, not a single living zombie could be found on the entire Rongguang Avenue Commercial Street. Every shop had been thoroughly cleaned out, ensuring no omissions remained. This once-bustling commercial street, thriving before the disaster, had now fallen into a peculiar kind of liveliness.

"Wow, an LV bag! I saved up for half a year before the disaster and couldn't afford one, haha, and there's a limited edition too—I'm taking it."

"Yeah, an iPhone 4S! I've always wanted one. I heard the base has electricity, right? Haha, I'm grabbing five."

"Whoa, a huge gold chain, and Nike sneakers, a diamond watch—this is our trendy rich trio! I need to stock up on a few sets."

"Cigarettes! Cigarettes! Cigarettes! I'm hoarding as many as I can."

"Great idea, I'm loading up a whole cart of red wine."

Inside the Walmart Department Store, over thirty men and women wore excited, satisfied smiles as they pushed shopping carts, picking out their favorite and most needed items from different aisles. Morales's two kids had rushed straight to the snack section, grabbing expensive treats they could barely afford before the disaster, plopping down on the floor to gorge themselves. They didn't have to work and had plenty of time to enjoy themselves at leisure.

To keep transport unobstructed, the zombie corpses here had all been moved out, leaving only dried bloodstains on the floor. This was Leon's reward for their hard work over the past few days and for joining the Umbrella Corporation. After this mission, everyone would get a brand-new car and the right to pick any items until the car was full.

Some chose luxury goods like clothes and accessories, others picked necessities like cigarettes, alcohol, and food, while a few far-sighted individuals loaded entire carts of various medicines. Everyone was thrilled—they were ordinary people who had never had the chance to splurge like this before. Maybe this was the only upside of the apocalypse: many valuable things had become ownerless, and as long as you were capable and lucky, you could claim them.

At the entrance to the Interstate Highway

Amy, wearing tight ripped jeans, a white tank top, and a red vest, held a notebook as she stood beside Leon, who was leaning against his sports car smoking a cigar. She reported in a soft voice: "Mr. Castor, there are 58 shops on this street, including 8 various restaurants, 12 clothing stores, 6 drink shops, 8 lifestyle accessory stores, and 15 specialty tool shops—49 small stores in total. The remaining nine are large establishments: two gas stations, one International Chain Pharmacy, one Car Dealership, one Auto Repair Center, one Large Building Materials Center, one Medium Clinic, one Shooting Training Center, and one Walmart Department Store. Which items should we prioritize for transport?"

Since yesterday morning, she, along with her older sister Andrea and Ms. Quinn, had come to Rongguang Avenue Commercial Street, spending a full day and a half cataloging every shop and every item. It had taken a long time and drained their energy, but none of the three women felt tired; instead, they were brimming with energy. Such a massive quantity and variety of supplies, even before the disaster, would have been a staggering fortune. They could already imagine how wealthy their lives would be from now on.

Amy smiled, her eyes shining as she looked at Leon with admiration. That handsome face always wore a calm, faint smile, and his dark green eyes were deep and unfathomable, like a soul-stealing abyss. Leon gave his assistant a strange look and said in a tone tinged with instruction: "Of course, take everything! Think about it—everything here is essential to our lives. Even the luxury goods can bring our employees physical pleasure and spiritual satisfaction. This is a disaster now; supplies this diverse aren't easy to find, and opportunities to search safely are even rarer. This is all mine—ah, no, the Umbrella Corporation's property. How can we waste it?"

Amy felt a bit ashamed and lowered her head, murmuring, "I understand, Mr. Castor." She paused in silence for a few seconds, looking a little hurt, then added, "Mr. Castor, do you have any instructions for the personnel arrangements for the transfer?"

Leon rubbed his chin, where stubble was starting to grow, thought for a few seconds, and asked, "How much gasoline and diesel are in the gas stations? How much have we loaded so far?"

Amy flipped through her notebook and said, "The first batch is already loaded, Mr. Castor, but there's a bit of a problem. We only found two tanker trucks and 32 barrels at the gas stations. Each tanker can carry about 4.5 tons of gasoline, and one ton needs 8 barrels to store, so at most we can transport 17 tons on the first trip and 9 tons on the second. The two stations have about 50 tons in total, so we'd need about five trips to move it all."

Leon glanced at his Rolex—it was 1 p.m. Rongguang Avenue was about an hour and a half's drive from the Atlanta CDC, making a round trip roughly three hours. Factoring in loading and unloading, one trip would take at least five hours. It was summer, and the sun would set around 7 p.m., meaning he didn't have much time left today.

"Here's the plan: go urge them to speed up the loading. My promise still stands—they can even pick their items after returning to the base. Make sure to arrange for your sister and Ms. Quinn to oversee the moving work here. You'll need to come with me this afternoon; we're heading back to the base first, and I need you to organize things there too. This transfer mission will probably last about a week, but we have to speed up, or zombies from other areas might get drawn here by the commotion and cause us trouble. We have 11 trucks total—fill them up and we must leave by 3 p.m. Go, hurry up, and call Merle over to see me."

Amy let out a soft sigh. Thinking of the cartload of treasures she'd secured, her weary body found a surge of renewed energy. Leon leaned against his sports car, watching the slender figure of the young beauty gradually fade away, his thoughts drifting back to his mind. His mood now was a mix of joy and, even more so, worry.

Currently, excluding Dr. Jenner and Dr. Melpha, as well as those severely ill elderly, the Umbrella Corporation has a total of 35 employees. The ones truly capable of labor, aside from Morales's two children, actually number only 33.

With so few people, they still have to handle security, transport, moving, driving, and all kinds of other tasks—the harvest is far too thin. How could such a meager workforce let him, the Boss, live the happy, blissful ideal life he dreams of?

The moment he thought about returning to base and having to split these few people into two groups, arranging them for loading vehicles, moving supplies, dismantling and modifying the base, assigning housing, clearing the surrounding zombies... a mountain of work piled up.

Damn, it made his scalp crawl.

But finding living people in this apocalypse was truly hard. He recalled the plot he'd seen.

The few places with people he could think of were Woodbury, the Governor's block, Maggie's family farm, Alexandria, God's Country, and the Salvation Army's Sanctuary, among others.

Most of these places he didn't know the addresses for, and more often than not, they might not even have formed or existed yet at this point in time.

Finding them was no simple task.

For now, the one place he had a bit of confidence in was Maggie's family farm. He knew roughly where their farm was, and as long as he found their rural property, he had a good chance of convincing Hershel.

Oh, right.

There was also Terminus, Morgan, Rick, and Shane, among others.

Before he could continue mulling it over, he saw Merle walking toward him with a grin on his face.

These days, that old thug was genuinely enjoying himself. Sure, the shitty world had turned into an apocalypse, but for him, it wasn't much different. He'd been living in hell before this anyway.

Now, he'd found a powerful boss who valued him, gained a bunch of capable subordinates, earned the respect of others, and his younger brother Daryl was doing well too. He could clearly see that as long as he remained loyal and got things done, a brighter, more hopeful future was within reach.

This was far more satisfying than his pre-apocalypse life as a despised, bottom-tier enforcer.

Thinking about the fine wine and cigarettes loaded into the cars—things he'd never dared to dream of before—he looked at his boss Leon not far away, and an involuntary, fawning smile crept onto his face.

"Boss, you called Old Merle over. What do you need?"