Apocalypse: I'm Bound to a Mobile Lottery Shop

Chapter 56: Chapter 56: I’m Taking This RV

Zelda Whittaker was completely stunned. In the ten years since the apocalypse began, a superpower like this had never appeared.

If one had, people wouldn’t be living in such hellish conditions. Zelda Whittaker’s mind was reeling.

A few girls nearby were chattering amongst themselves.

"Is this stuff really edible?"

"It must be. It looks so delicious, anyway."

"I don’t care anymore, I’m buying one to try!"

Before she knew it, her shopping basket was filled to the brim, and that was even with her holding back.

She didn’t even have to look to know the three Crystal Cores she’d set aside wouldn’t be enough. So, she gave another ten to the Lucky Cat, figuring she’d leave any extra and add more if needed.

She stored her purchases in her dimensional space, once again cradling Laurel in her arms. Just as she was about to head back to the base, her eyes drifted involuntarily toward the RV.

As if compelled by some unseen force, Zelda Whittaker turned and walked back to the RV.

Lily Hart was always happy to welcome a beautiful woman. Before she could offer a greeting, Zelda Whittaker spoke. "Boss Hart, I have something I’d like to discuss with you."

Lily Hart paused for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. Follow me."

Zelda Whittaker boarded the RV and followed Lily Hart into a small, somewhat cluttered room filled with all sorts of miscellaneous items.

In one corner, there was even a burlap sack of Crystal Cores, so full it was overflowing.

’Boss Hart really doesn’t care about money at all,’ Zelda Whittaker thought. ’She’s so selfless and noble. She must be running this convenience store as a charity; otherwise, why would everything be so cheap?’

But what outsiders didn’t know was that on Lily Hart’s Light Brain, these goods were even cheaper. She was making an absolute killing.

"Have a seat," Lily Hart said, gesturing casually as she entered.

Zelda Whittaker glanced around. Where was she supposed to sit? There were a few empty cardboard boxes, at least.

’But can they even hold my weight?’ Zelda Whittaker grumbled to herself, even as her body betrayed her thoughts and started walking over.

Just as she lifted her leg, a flash of white light blazed before her. A set of redwood table and chairs materialized, its grain clear and its fragrance that of fresh, high-quality wood.

"Base Commander Whittaker, please have a seat." Lily Hart sat down composedly. With a snap of her fingers, two glasses of clear mineral water appeared on the table, along with several small plates of sliced watermelon, cantaloupe, and other fruits.

It was the first time anyone had sought Lily Hart out to discuss business, and she was actually a little excited.

Zelda Whittaker sat across from her, skillfully crossing her legs. She rested her elbows on the edge of the table, interlaced her fingers, and straightened her spine slightly as her gaze swept over the plates of fruit.

A flash of desire and astonishment crossed her eyes. In this day and age, forget fruit—even vegetables were hard to find. The ones grown at Central Command were not only ugly, they tasted awful, too.

Lily Hart speared a piece of watermelon with a fork and offered, "Help yourself. Don’t be shy."

Only after watching her swallow did Zelda Whittaker reach for her own fork, pick up a piece of cantaloupe, and pop it into her mouth. It was sweet and incredibly juicy.

She involuntarily closed her eyes, savoring the taste. She’d almost forgotten how long it had been since she’d eaten fruit that grew so naturally.

The air grew quiet. For some reason, the two of them just started eating the fruit, not saying a word. Just eating.

Only when the plates were empty did Zelda Whittaker seem to snap out of a daze. She gave a light, embarrassed cough. "My apologies."

Lily Hart shook her head, her lips curving into a smile that revealed faint dimples. "It’s nothing. Base Commander, please go ahead and tell me what’s on your mind."

’Even if you hadn’t said anything, I wasn’t about to bring out more fruit!’

"I’d like to invite Manager Hart to operate inside Bloomfall Base for a few days," Zelda Whittaker said earnestly.

"Oh? And why’s that?" Lily Hart asked nonchalantly. ’Isn’t it the same whether I’m inside or out?’

"Bloomfall Base is the only all-female base. The Guardian Corps, the sanitation workers, the growers—they’re all women. Consequently, we also have many elderly, weak, and young residents who normally don’t have the opportunity or the ability to leave the base."

"But I want to show them that there is hope in being alive. At the very least, the hope of meeting a great benefactor like you, Manager Hart." Zelda Whittaker looked directly into her eyes, speaking each word with deliberation.

Lily Hart suddenly found herself being put on a pedestal, but that was fine. She knew how to get down on her own.

She waved her hands dismissively. "I can set up shop inside, but no flattery!"

Zelda Whittaker lowered her head and let out a soft chuckle. A stray lock of hair fell from behind her ear, and she elegantly tucked it back into place.

When she looked up again, her eyes were brimming with a smile that left Lily Hart momentarily stunned. Her gaze was simply captivating—full of elegance and wisdom.

"Alright. Tomorrow, then? What do you say, Boss Hart?" Zelda Whittaker looked at her, her expression questioning.

"Yes, yes, of course," Lily Hart agreed. Her eyes were just so expressive; it was impossible to say no.

Having achieved her goal, Zelda Whittaker stood, drained her glass of water in one gulp, and gave Lily Hart a deep bow. "I’ll take my leave, then. See you tomorrow."

As she turned to leave, Lily Hart called out, "Wait! Let’s add each other on our Light Brains."

The two successfully exchanged Light Brain contacts. A strange, knowing smile spread across Lily Hart’s face. ’Yes! It feels so good to get a beauty’s contact info!’

When she came out of the storage room, Diana Sharp was minding the store, and even Roman Rowe was bustling about, helping out.

"You’re still here?" Lily Hart shot Roman Rowe a sideways glance, her voice laced with impatience. His shock of blond hair was practically blinding.

"Nope, not leaving," Roman Rowe said while redeeming a prize for a customer. It turned out to be a box of fruit, and his eyes were practically glued to it as his hands refused to let go.

He ended up in a tug-of-war with the customer over it. Lily Hart strode over and slapped Roman Rowe’s hand away.

She handed the fruit to the customer with an apologetic smile before whirling back to face Roman Rowe.

With her hands on her hips, she yelled, "You son of a bitch, get the hell out of here! All you do all day is cause trouble!"

Roman Rowe gulped, the sweet scent of the fruit still seeming to linger in his nostrils. Even getting an earful from Boss Hart didn’t seem to bother him.

He just pouted reluctantly, straightened his back, and said with the air of someone with nothing left to lose, "Fine, I’ll scram..."

With that, he swaggered out the door, pulled his beloved motorcycle from his dimensional space—a sleek, predominantly black machine.

It looked like a panther ready to pounce. Roman Rowe swung a long leg over it, the tips of his hair swaying with the motion, and left nothing behind for the crowd but a cloud of exhaust.

Natalie Thorne couldn’t help but sneak a peek at Roman Rowe, nudging the friend beside her. "He’s so handsome! That’s him, Roman Rowe! The one from the leaderboards!"

"So what?" her friend replied, her attention focused on a scratch-off ticket.

Natalie Thorne was at a loss for words. "You just don’t get it!" she said, sneaking another glance in the direction Roman Rowe had gone.

In front of the RV stood Bloomfall Base. A few hundred meters behind it was a sprawling shantytown, a mess of crowded, ramshackle buildings.

It was heavily populated by people who hoped that by living close to the base, they could leech off some of its benefits and find a measure of protection.

In a dilapidated three-story building, two large men were leaning against a windowsill, squinting at the RV.

They discussed in low voices. "Boss, who are they? They actually have an RV!"

The man called "Boss" was named Zeke Lowell. He was burly and looked like he could handle himself in a fight.

He said viciously, "I don’t give a damn who they are. That RV is as good as mine. Go get the boys up here!"

A moment later, a rustling of movement filled the air as a dozen or so large men gathered on the third floor.

The smell of greasy hair, stinky feet, body odor, and bad breath instantly created an overwhelming stench.

Thankfully, the windows had no glass, allowing for some ventilation. Water was scarce, making something as simple as a bath an extreme luxury.