My 100th Rebirth a day before the Apocalypse novel Chapter 905

Chapter 905 -905 Survivors

After Fred nodded, he and his team stayed behind to guard the door. Meanwhile, Sparrow and the rest of the group moved cautiously inside, now on full alert. The fact that the door was locked from the inside could only mean two things: either some survivors had barricaded themselves in and were waiting for rescue, relying on the supplies within, or a group had claimed the supermarket as their base.

Either scenario meant potential danger, and Sparrow knew they couldn’t afford to let their guard down. Leading the group, he decided to switch off their flashlights to avoid drawing attention; the flashlights offered limited visibility anyway and would only alert anyone lurking inside.

Instead, Sparrow signaled for the Space-Type Ability Users (STAUs) to come over.

With a quick hand signal, Sparrow instructed the STAUs to take out the night vision goggles stored in the corner of their Space. Understanding immediately, the STAUs retrieved over a dozen goggles and distributed them to the team.

Once everyone had their gear on, they turned off their flashlights and handed them back to the STAUs.

Sparrow then resumed the lead, with Vulture right behind him. The back area of the supermarket was even darker than the main floor, and almost no light made it through.

Thankfully, with the night vision goggles, they were able to navigate the pitch-black interior without difficulty. Without them, moving through this part of the building would’ve been nearly impossible.

So instead of Sparrow taking the lead this time, it was Vulture at the front, his entire body encased in sturdy earth armor. Sparrow followed closely behind him, with the rest of the team trailing in tight formation.

They kept no more than a foot of distance between each other, making sure no one would be picked off or fall out of line, especially in case a mutated zombie lurked in the shadows, waiting for a chance to strike.

If they were suddenly attacked, the close formation would allow them to push those in the line of fire to safety and duck down together as one. Sparrow was determined to protect his people; he refused to return to base bearing grim news or unnecessary losses.

And so, they moved cautiously and stayed on high alert as they made their way toward the warehouse behind the supermarket. Before reaching it, they had to pass through a long hallway cluttered with large pushcarts used for restocking the shelves, along with ladders and other scattered equipment. Each step was taken with care, mindful not to make a sound.

Fortunately, the path remained clear, and no threats appeared until they finally reached the warehouse door, only to find it securely locked. Evelyn, who was positioned in the middle of the group, stepped forward and used her metal manipulation ability to unlock the metal bolt with ease.

As soon as the lock clicked open, Vulture cautiously slipped through the door first, leaving Sparrow and the others waiting just outside. Even without entering, a pungent stench wafted from within, making everyone instinctively tense up.

But not long after, Vulture’s voice echoed from within the warehouse. “Sparrow… I think you need to see this,” he called out, his tone uncertain and slightly awkward.

Without delay, Sparrow stepped through the door, leaving the others behind. The intense, pungent stench hit him square in the face, making him grimace. But it wasn’t just the smell, light poured into the warehouse, momentarily blinding him through his night goggles. He had no choice but to remove them.

Inside the supermarket, it had been pitch black, windowless, and cut off from the sun, making the hallway as dark as the night. But the warehouse was different.

It had large windows positioned high on the third floor to allow natural light and ventilation. Since it was still early in the day, sunlight flooded the room.

Now that he could see clearly, Sparrow realized the reason Vulture had called him over wasn’t the light; it was the people. Dozens of survivors huddled together, looking like beggars. They were covered in layers of grime and filth, their clothes ragged and their eyes weary.

Though the warehouse was stocked with supplies, one thing they lacked was water, especially for cleaning. None of them dared to waste drinking water to wash themselves, unsure when help would arrive. They had endured in silence, surviving—but just barely.

“Are you here to rescue us?” one of the men asked, stepping forward to face Sparrow and Vulture. He appeared to be the leader of the group, and like the others, he held a crowbar, just one of the many tools they had scavenged from the warehouse for defense.

At his question, the tension in the air shifted. The survivors, who had been clutching their makeshift weapons with wary eyes, began to relax. Slowly, cautiously, they lowered their arms, all eyes now fixed on Sparrow.

Despite Vulture’s unusual appearance, his body encased in armor that made him look like a man sculpted from earth, his exposed face revealed his humanity. And while he drew curious glances, it was Sparrow who truly caught their attention. With his tactical gear and night goggles, he looked every bit like a soldier from a government rescue team.

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