Apocalyptic Hoarding Diary

Ten minutes later, the figure fell from the height. The fall was so fast that there was almost no time to react. Xu Xiaoyan only saw the dark silhouette suddenly tilt slightly before disappearing from the edge of the rooftop.

Without hesitation, without struggle, it all happened in an instant. One second she was still standing there, and the next second all that was left was an empty horizon and billowing smoke.

A dull thud came from downstairs, and then everything fell silent.

Several hundred people stood on that open space, no one spoke, and all their eyes were fixed on the direction of the three buildings.

Some people in the crowd gasped, some covered their mouths, and some turned their heads away.

Xu Xiaoyan's fingers unconsciously tightened around the backpack straps.

After a long while, someone in the crowd finally spoke. It was a middle-aged woman's voice, not loud, but it sounded particularly clear in the silence.

"I've seen her."

Xu Xiaoyan looked in the direction of the voice and saw a woman in a gray coat standing at the front of the crowd. Her face was pale and her lips were trembling slightly.

"I've seen her," the woman repeated, her voice almost to herself. "When she first came to the neighborhood, she had a little yellow dog with her. I lived on the floor below her, and every day I could hear her talking to the dog on her balcony, muttering to herself, I don't know what she was saying..."

When she said the word "dog," her voice trembled, as if she had suddenly realized something, and she froze.

A man standing next to her took over the conversation, his tone carrying a hint of skepticism.

"It can't be... that he's seeking revenge because his puppy was eaten, right?" As soon as these words were spoken, the people around him were stunned for a moment.

Then someone chuckled. It was a young man, wearing a dirty gray short-sleeved shirt, leaning against a lamppost, a hint of disdain on his lips.

"What are you thinking?" He curled his lip. "A beast is a beast, just a dog. Who would..." He suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

His expression changed, slowly transforming from disdain to a thoughtful look. His brows furrowed, and his eyes darted around, as if he were connecting something in his mind.

He raised his head, his gaze returning to Building 3, his voice lowered, carrying a hint of hesitation that even he himself wasn't entirely sure about.

"Wait... Could she have been the one who committed the massacre a few days ago?" As soon as these words were spoken, voices rose from the crowd. Some people were whispering, some were staring wide-eyed, and some were instinctively taking a step back.

"No way? Just for a dog???" A middle-aged woman in a floral shirt had the loudest voice, high-pitched and shrill. Her face was filled with disbelief, her mouth was wide open, and the flesh on her chin was trembling. "Is this person out of their mind?! Murder and arson for a dog? Are they crazy?!"

Her words drew a chorus of agreement.

The atmosphere in the crowd changed; it was no longer the silence that had been suppressed by shock and sorrow, but a mixture of fear and anger.

The fear stemmed from the realization that the person who did this had once lived in the neighborhood, perhaps even brushed past them; she was right there among them, and none of them had noticed.

The anger stemmed from the fact that all the supplies in Building 3 had been burned to the ground. They needed an outlet, someone to blame, to curse, and to vent all their hatred on.

"What's a dog worth? People can't even survive these days, why would they care about dogs?" A tall, thin man pushed up his glasses, which were about to slip off his nose.

"That's right, we haven't eaten meat in our building for days, but we haven't seen anyone go and kill anyone," a plump woman chimed in.

"This woman must have mental problems. She should have been locked up a long time ago..." An old man, leaning on a cane, stood shakily in the middle of the crowd.

"Her death is the end of it all, but what about us? We've lost our homes!" A young woman's voice came from deep within the crowd, choked with sobs.

The voices grew louder and louder. Some were criticizing the woman, saying she was too selfish; some were cursing her, using the most offensive language; some were lamenting how the world had changed; and some were glad they were far from Building 3.

Xu Xiaoyan stood at the edge of the crowd without saying a word.

Her gaze fell on the area at the base of Building 3, where several blurry figures were moving about, probably soldiers cleaning up the aftermath.

The flames were gradually dying down. The three buildings had been almost completely burned down, leaving only a blackened skeleton standing there. Occasionally, a few flames would leap out from a corner and then quickly go out.

She listened to the discussions around her, and couldn't quite describe how she felt.

Is it worth it for a dog? She didn't have an answer to that question.

She only knew one thing: in this world, there are not many things a person can hold onto. Some people hold onto water tickets, some hold onto food, and some hold onto a dog.

When her dog was taken away, her will to live was gone, and who knows what a person with nothing will do?

Xu Xiaoyan leaned against the tree trunk, took a piece of candy out of her backpack, unwrapped it, and put it in her mouth. The candy was sweet and slowly melted on her tongue, calming down her restlessness.

"They're coming out! The soldiers are coming out!" someone shouted from the crowd.

The murmurs and curses that had been raging just moments before vanished instantly, replaced by a tense, expectant atmosphere as everyone's eyes turned toward the direction from which the soldiers had emerged.

The soldier walking at the front was the one who had shouted from the flowerbed earlier. He just kept his head down and walked forward, as did the other young soldiers behind him, their faces expressionless.

Some people are watching their mouths, hoping they'll open and say something like, "Don't worry, everyone, we've made all the arrangements."

Someone was looking into their eyes, hoping to find a reassuring signal in their gaze.

But no, nothing at all. The soldiers simply walked past in silence, getting further and further away.

Finally, someone rushed out.

He was a middle-aged man, wearing a black t-shirt, with messy hair, and one of his slippers was missing and he hadn't bothered to pick it up.

He rushed to the soldiers in two strides and blocked their way with his arms outstretched.

"Comrades of the People's Liberation Army!" His voice was urgent and loud, with a tone that sounded like he was about to cry. "Where will we stay?"

The group behind him didn't follow, but everyone's ears were perked up and all their eyes were fixed on the backs of the soldiers, waiting for the answer.

"If we don't have houses, we'll be roasted to death when the sun comes out tomorrow!" The man's voice rose again, carrying a sharp, almost desperate tone.

His finger pointed to the dark open space behind him, and then to the clouds in the sky, reddened by the firelight, as if to show a fact that no one could deny.

If you enjoy stories about surviving the apocalypse by stockpiling supplies, please bookmark: Apocalypse Stockpiling Survival Story