Chapter 134 Burning
The fire in Building 21 blazed fiercely for over half an hour before it began to wane, though the thick, suffocating smoke persisted relentlessly.
Under such conditions, survival within the building seemed a hopeless prospect. Without any means of ventilation, and no way to protect themselves from the toxic fumes, those trapped inside faced an agonizing demise. Even if some miraculously clung to life, remaining within the smoldering structure meant death was inevitable, as the relentless smoke showed no signs of abating.
Steven turned his attention to Building 26, his expression resolute. "Let's go, on to the next building!" he commanded.
Bloodlust ignited in the eyes of his followers from Building 25. For the first time, they had tasted the intoxicating power of taking a life, the thrill of playing God. This newfound fervor coursed through their veins, propelling them eagerly behind Steven as they advanced toward the domain of the Rapids in Building 26.
The residents of Building 26 peered anxiously from their windows, terror gripping their hearts as they saw Steven and his contingent approach. A desperate voice called out from within, "Steven, Owen is already dead! This has nothing to do with us! You can't kill innocent people!"
Steven threw his head back and laughed, a harsh, mirthless sound. "Innocent people?" he sneered, his eyes glinting with disdain.
"Do you truly believe you're innocent?" His voice dripped with sarcasm as he continued, "Anyone who's survived in your building has blood on their hands. Besides, even if you were innocent, what does that have to do with whether I kill you or not?"
Steven's sense of justice was absolute and unforgiving. In the apocalypse, leniency invited retribution. He'd learned this truth the hard way—mercy was a vulnerability he could not afford.
"Let's continue," he ordered, his voice brooking no dissent.
Using the same cruel strategy, Steven and his followers sealed off Building 26 and ignited a fire at the ground level. Screams and curses erupted from within the building as residents realized their grim fate. Frantic figures dashed down the stairwell, only to be met with a bullet to the skull from Steven the moment they emerged. Gradually, thick smoke enveloped the entire structure.
Steven maintained his methodical approach, ensuring no one escaped. As the last cries from Building 26 faded into silence, he moved on, targeting the next buildings—those belonging to the managers who had orchestrated the assault against him.
One by one, five buildings were set ablaze, their flames leaping into the sky, thick smoke billowing upwards and illuminating the entire neighborhood. The intense heat even began to melt the surrounding snow and ice.
Residents of other apartment buildings watched in horror, many paralyzed by fear, some losing control and wetting themselves in sheer terror.
Steven glanced at his watch, calculating the time. At this rate, he wouldn’t finish his grim task in a single night. Fatigue tugged at him, and besides, he needed to check on Henry's treatment.
To prevent further chaos, he decided to address the neighborhood. Retrieving a megaphone from his extradimensional space, he spoke out, his voice amplified and authoritative. "Everyone, rest assured, I never harm the innocent. I only target the buildings of those who attacked me. As for those who have been friendly, you have nothing to fear. I won't harm you."
The tension among the other apartment building owners eased slightly after hearing Steven's declaration. Clinging to this glimmer of hope, they dared to believe—if only for a moment—that they might be spared.
Even though they knew deep down that Steven's words could be a ruse, the human tendency to grasp at any thread of hope in the face of despair prevailed.
"Steven doesn't plan to kill us? That's great, just great!"
"Yeah, we didn't attack Steven. What does it have to do with us? Steven shouldn't be retaliating against us."
"He... he's killed so many people, he must be tired! I don't believe he can kill the entire neighborhood."
People wouldn't risk their lives for a slim chance unless they were in a desperate situation. Steven's words gave them just enough hope to allow them to bury their heads in the sand, pretending there was no imminent danger.
After Steven finished speaking, he told the neighbors around him, "Alright, today's activities are over. You all go back and rest!"
Reluctantly, some of the neighbors responded, "We'll stay here and warm ourselves by the fire!"
The blazing flames were a welcoming warmth amidst the harsh cold, a stark contrast to the freezing apartments they inhabited.
Steven shrugged indifferently, "Suit yourself," and turned back towards Building 25.
The others remained, huddling around the fire, eyes glistening with a strange mix of relief and trepidation. But as the flames began to dwindle, the warmth dissipated, replaced once again by the biting cold.
"The fire is getting smaller. What should we do?" One person said anxiously.
Scanning the surroundings, another's eyes lit up with a grim realization. Whispering to a few nearby, they moved in unison, picking up a corpse and tossing it into the fire. A crisp popping sound, like frying fat, echoed as the flames roared back to life.
"That's a good idea! How could we forget, animal fat is excellent fuel!" someone cheered. There were still many bodies around, enough to keep them warm for a while longer. If hunger struck, they might even indulge in a gruesome barbecue feast, borne out of their dire circumstances.
On his way back, Steven paused beside the bodies of Dennis and Walter. These two had been useful and obedient, diligent in their work. Steven had ensured they were well-fed under his command. But why had they suddenly turned on him?
Seeking answers, he searched their bodies, retrieving their phones and unlocking them. The fire's light flickered as he scrolled through their messages, his amusement growing.
"So that's how it is!" he chuckled, tossing the phones into the snow and continuing home.
Opening the door to the makeshift infirmary, Steven's eyes fell on Elinor. She leaned against the wall, her legs crossed—a striking figure even in her blue scrubs. His gaze moved to the bed where Henry lay, an oxygen mask over his face, the heart monitor showing a stable waveform.
A sense of relief washed over Steven, seeing Henry's life ebb back from the brink of death. This way, he wouldn't carry the burden of guilt for causing Henry's demise.
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