The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213 The Warchouse and the Horde

Chapter 213 The Warehouse and the Horde

Theresa made her way to the innermost row of medicine cabinets. She had already cleared out all the supplies from these shelves earlier, but she hadn’t noticed the narrow side door hidden behind one of them. It looked just like the outer exits, but when Jack unlocked it with a key, it revealed a tight, narrow stairwell.

“This leads to the underground storeroom. Most of the meds are down there,” Jack explained.

“Go first. Lead the way,” Theresa said, shooting him a look.

No matter how stupid these kids seemed, she wasn’t going to trust a single one of them to walk behind her. The guide always went first–non–negotiable.

Jack nodded without protest. He had no reason to argue. They’d already checked this area when they first occupied the pharmacy and found nothing edible downstairs–just crates and crates of modern medicine. They had taken anything that could be eaten and left the rest behind.

Theresa descended the long corridor, Quentin still slung over her shoulder. There was no lighting, so she pulled out a flashlight. As the beam swept across the basement, rows of tall metal shelves came into view, lined with stacked boxes of medicine. Just by reading the labels, she spotted several drugs she needed.

Perfect!

“Miss, do you want us to help you carry them out?” Jack offered. He had finally understood that trying to strong–arm Theresa was pointless. The only way to gain anything from her was to prove his usefulness.

“No need,” Theresa replied lazily. “The guy’s a space–based ability user. He can store the items. Don’t tell me you guys didn’t notice it.”

While Quentin was rendered speechless, she grabbed his hand and extended it toward the shelves, pretending he was the one absorbing the crates. In truth, she was dumping everything into her domain. If Quentin had used her name to scam supplies from her before, she’d just use his reputation to reclaim that debt now–one box at a time.

Within seconds, the entire stockpile was gone.

Everyone stared in stunned silence. Their jaws nearly hit the floor. As they gawked at Quentin, it was like a thousand dots suddenly connected in their minds.

Theresa had just emptied out a storeroom over 650 square feet in size. It was only now that the others finally processed what was happening/

They looked again at the man strapped to Theresa’s back–Quentin, whose hands and feet were bound with pig–trotter–style loops, just like livestock. He was slung diagonally across her shoulder like an oversized backpack, his head flopping against her as she occasionally hung extra bags around his neck.

That guy… when he showed up, he had only one bulging backpack, and it always seemed like supplies just kept coming out of it. So that’s what it is–space–based ability!

“Why don’t we have one then?” one of the girls blurted out.

Theresa glanced toward the narrow stairwell. “How old are you?”

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Chapter 213 The Warehouse and the Horde

“We just graduated from high school last year. We’re about to start college.

Well, would you look at that, Theresa thought. They really are a bunch of ivory tower kids.

Just then, a sudden crash of shattering glass came from upstairs, followed by a girl’s sharp scream. Panic exploded immediately–several students who had been standing on the stairwell tumbled down in a frantic rush.

“Help!”

“Zombies!”

“They’re coming!”

Theresa turned her flashlight toward the stairs and charged to the narrow entryway. As she reached it, a skeletal elderly zombie appeared at the threshold. It clung to the doorframe with claw–like hands, hair hanging in greasy tangles, its soulless eyes peering into the dim stairwell. Behind it, an unending wave of the undead surged forward.

Theresa launched herself at the entrance and slammed the metal door shut.

Skreee!

Long, needle–like fingers scratched across the aluminum door, making a sound as sharp and grating as a violin string screeching off–key. Zombie hands clawed furiously at the frame, leaving deep gouges in the metal.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

A zombie’s head had jammed itself into the bottom edge of the doorway, its rotting black teeth biting furiously at the doorframe, gnawing upward bit by bit.

Theresa, wedged in the narrow stairwell, held the door closed with one arm, bracing against the mass of creatures outside. With her free hand, she drew her blade. With a crisp shing, she hacked down–severing the outstretched zombie hands.

For the one still chewing on the frame, she turned her long blade vértical and cleaved half its face off in a single strike. Her body rocked with the force as she shoved the door outward like a battering ram.

-Thud! Thud! Thud!