Cultivator In A Zombie Apocalypse 48 Chapter Forty Eight - Shows Of Strength

The devouring zombie they had encountered attacking another within the store was not the only one with this unexpected habit; within the warehouse there had been another. That one had created itself a nest in the recesses of the warehouse, corpses strewn haphazardly around it. It was also the strongest of all the zombies that they encountered that day and were it not for the fact that Tyler had sensed the icy, cloud of moisture which should not have existed, they may have easily become its next victims.

"There are many paths of Cultivation," Ren Zexian taught with his words of enlightened wisdom. "Not all are righteous. Amongst the most insidious is the practice of stealing the Cultivation of others. In the situation of the undead, it seems, a few have figured out that they can feed from others to strengthen themselves."

"So why that zombie, why not the others?" Patrick asked, curiously. There was still a divide between Dexter's squad and Jonah's squad; the former had accepted Ren Zexian's quirkiness and found that, although his explanations seemed like they had been created in the pages of an eastern fantasy novel, his teachings were on point. By listening to his words, by learning from him, they had become stronger. Jonah's people were still sceptical, but they could not deny that the man had great strength and meant them no harm, yet they would still listen his explanations with a pinch of salt.

"That one had unlocked its abilities," Ren Zexian said, following a spell of thought, "yet posed no threat." That, all the people within the truck could understand and accept.

The supermarket had been better stocked than they could have hoped. Granted, fresh and frozen produce was rotten, mouldy and completely inedible, the chilled section was producing particularly unpleasant smells. And things such as pasta, rice, noodles, tins of vegetables and fruits, dried fruits and cereals, these had been nearly cleaned out by those that had come before them. There was some signs that they had taken things from other sections, such as jar sauces and coffee, but at this point they had clearly been in a hurry as the gla.s.s and mouldy spillages on the floor attested to. However, seasonings and baking ingredients meant for the oven had been mostly ignored.

There was also large sacks of flour sitting in the warehouse. The lower sacks had spoiled, the melted water from the zombie's nest of mist and fog had spread across the floor and happened to soak them. Still they claimed the sacks of flour that were still decent; these would last them along time.

Ren Zexian's spare interspatial bag had become filled to brim with vitamin supplements, painkillers and other medicines, including ones specifically for children, while Cole, Jonah and Arthur took out the sacks of flour, bags of sugar, salt, yeast and dried dog food. Monika filled up a few wired baskets with feminine products and Tyler claimed a few bottles of whiskey, brandy and other liquor with the excuse that a small tipple would be warming in the winter. They also took a lot of baby products; nappies, formula, bibs and a few teething toys, creams and wipes. These filled up a large section of the truck along with empty gla.s.s jars and Tupperware for Autumn's vinegars, jams and pickles and for Nathan's seeds.

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After they had made another run through the store, this time claiming ingredients for hot beverages, dried seasonings and bottles of oil, they had come out to find a ragged group of survivors were attempting to surround their truck. These people were skinny, clearly weak and desperate, they held knives and bats and did not fear Jimmy's guns.

"Take it easy," Jonah had said, calmly as he lit up a cigarette in front of them, which caused a couple to look longingly at the burning stick. "There's still stuff to be had inside and we've killed all of the zombies in there. So there's no need for you to lose your lives fighting us."

"We lose our lives?" One had sneered from the back of the group.

"Yeah, we clearly out number you!" Another had claimed, but the man simply chuckled in response.

Jonah had glanced at his squad, before offering a deeper look towards Tyler, Patrick and Ren Zexian. "A show of strength, gentlemen," he had drawled upon a slight sigh. Understanding his meaning, his people had drawn their guns while the latter three revealed their powers. The survivors had taken several steps backward; they knew about abilities and none of them had developed them. They had been the weak baggage that the strong had left behind. They had quickly lost their will to fight at that point.

The squad had left, their truck mostly filled and not willing to risk their gains nor kill unnecessarily at this point. They still had to look at the wheat fields on the way back and see what they could harvest after all. For now, they headed to a housing estate at the edge of town to hole up for the night.

The fields they came to the following day, did not have the endless, sweeping gold gra.s.ses they had seen in previous years, tall and proud, ready to be harvested. Instead, only patches of the field could be said to retain their former glory. The rest was a mess of strangling weeds or rotting straw (where the wheat had died midseason and withered into the soil). Still, they took their blades and began to see what they could claim, all the while being wary of the weeds that wove about the place. Who knew if they would animate and try to claim their lives? Or worse, what if undead rodents lurked within the foliage?

As it happened, the fields were apparently still and peaceful at this time, but they still moved quickly. They claimed while stalks, thinking to remove the seeds back at the base and use the straw as feed for the sheep. At the moment, those animals slept on rags and newspaper strewn over a concrete floor; not the best of environments for livestock.

They stayed close to the road, not wanting to risk moving too deep into the field. It was also easier to move their harvest onto the truck as well, which was being protected by Ren Zexian, Tyler and Jonah.

Unexpectedly, they were not the only ones to come to the fields in order to harvest grain that day.

The army trucks surrounded them and the people they carried leapt out of them. Not all were wearing soldier combats and only a few carried guns. In fact, more than half headed for the fields, a few more daring ones sought to claim what was in the arms of Monika and the others. That woman protected what she had harvested with brutality. Her attacker crumbled, grasping that which made him a Male by nature as if it were a fragile treasure.

"Hand over the grain!" One soldier demanded, aiming his gun at them.

"Sarge?" Monika questioned, still grasping the wheat gra.s.ses in her arms.

"Sarge?" A soldier emerged from the pa.s.senger side of one of the trucks, eyes narrowed as he examined the older man. This person held the arrogance of an officer and was clearly in charge of this large group of soldiers and civilians. However, as lawless as they were acting around the smaller group of survivors, they were still had respect for hierarchy of rank and order found within such. "Military?" The man questioned Jonah.

"Police," Jonah replied. The man nodded, but then stated;

"I would still have you relinquish your goods," He stated. "I have people relying on this produce for Winter."

"Understandable," Jonah responded, amicably, before reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a cigarette. He offered the officer one, who waved it away. Jonah lit his cigarette and took a long drag before saying; "so have I. It seems we're at an impa.s.se."

"I don't think so," sneered a solider beside the officer, but he was forced to stand down.

"Open the truck," the young officer ordered.

"And if I refuse?" Jonah asked him, with a raised brow. "Let's just think about this. You have guns, so do we. You have untrained civilians to protect, but we are all ready and able to fight. If you want to gnaw on this bone, boy, you need to realise that you will break a few teeth."

The officer hesitated. He had been a part of the army for many years, but he'd not truly much experience. His promotion was not one of merit, but of connections that remained after the End. He did not want this mission of his to suffer casualties that were avoidable, but at the same time, he was reluctant to part with any resources. These people were clearly resourceful, who knew what treasures were within? "We don't just have guns," the officer said, slowly and called out the name of a person. "Chang Min!"

"Yes, sir?" An oriental man appeared from the civilians and approached the smug officer and his men.

"Show them what it means to mess with us!" The soldiers stepped back as they said this and the civilians in the field began to creep backward to the rear trucks.

The youthful looking man with long black hair tied in a loop at his nape turned to face them. His lightly tanned arms rose from his side and the ground began to tremble beneath the truck and Jonah's feet. The squad cursed beneath their breath, bracing themselves, but as quickly as the tremors began, they ceased. The soldiers stared at the man incredulously, but he ignored them, eyes wide as he perceived the person calmly standing to the side of the truck, his arms behind his back and his smile gentle as always.

The man called Chang Min fell to his knees in kowtow, tears forming in his dark eyes. "Master!" He yelled out.