Chapter 297: Chapter 297
Bang!
The gunshot exploded within the cramped room, leaving the windowpanes buzzing with the vibration.
The one who had fired wasn’t Ray—it was Thomas.
Just a second before Ray could pull his own trigger, Thomas had already drawn his weapon and fired a step ahead of him.
At the end of the day, Ray was just an ordinary guy who had only handled guns after the apocalypse. With a limited supply of bullets, he had never undergone professional firearms training; he only knew the bare basics of how to point and shoot.
In stark contrast, Thomas was the definition of a professional.
The bullet struck Ray dead in the head, blowing away half of his skull. His eyes stared wide with lingering resentment as his body crashed straight down onto the floor.
Standing nearby, his brother-in-law completely froze, utterly terrified.
This was the first time he had ever seen someone get a headshot—so vividly, and from such a close distance.
Brain matter and blood splattered across his face. He could smell the thick, overpowering stench of blood, and it made him gag.
His eyes remained wide and vacant as his brain short-circuited. Then, his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed unconscious.
With both men down, an eerie silence settled over the room.
Breaking the quiet, the woman who had led them here suddenly let out a manic laugh. As she laughed, tears began to stream down her face.
"You animal... haha... the animal is finally dead," she muttered, staring at Ray’s corpse.
Her otherwise pleasant face distorted with sheer, manic exhilaration.
She looked happy—incredibly happy—yet beneath that joy lay a deep, aching thread of sorrow.
Laughing hysterically, the woman turned and left the room.
Before long, only Leonard and his group remained.
"She doesn’t seem right in the head," Leonard mumbled, glancing in the direction the woman had gone.
Elijah lowered his voice. "That’s a textbook sign of severe trauma."
Leonard cast a brief glance at the gruesome corpse a short distance away and shook his head. "...What on earth did this guy do to push someone that far?"
No one answered him. After all, none of them knew the dark history of what had transpired here.
Meanwhile, Thomas stepped forward to inspect the body, confirming that Ray was definitively dead.
Ignoring the gruesome state of the corpse, he calmly picked up the gun from Ray’s hand and pocketed it without blinking an eye.
Once it was clear that the danger had passed, Leonard began pacing around the room, eager to scavenge anything useful they could take back.
"I’ve gotta admit, this guy was pretty devious. He actually tried to ambush us. If we hadn’t been on our guard, he might’ve actually pulled it off. He put on quite the act." Leonard muttered to himself.
Holstering their weapons before entering the room had been Thomas’s plan all along, specifically designed to throw Ray off balance.
Of course, Thomas had only suggested it because he possessed the absolute confidence to counterattack instantly.
Sure enough, seeing that only Leonard appeared to have a gun, Ray thought he had the upper hand and could turn the tables. He had shown his true colors almost immediately.
Still, Ray’s acting had been impressive; Leonard had almost bought into it.
"Let’s see what we can take with us first," Lucas said.
As the leader of the faction, Ray had undoubtedly pocketed the best of the loot for himself. Sure enough, after rummaging through the room, the group uncovered quite a haul.
Cigarettes, alcohol, food, and even a small stash of medicine.
The Edison brothers were ecstatic at the sight.
Lucas ran his fingers over the packs of cigarettes, unable to put them down. "Damn, this guy was seriously loaded."
"Well, he was the boss of a hundred-man crew, after all."
"Still, he didn’t seem like much," Lucas remarked. "Didn’t we take care of him pretty easily?"
"We took care of him easily because we have guns," Liam interjected dryly.
Lucas blinked, then nodded. "Fair point."
The only reason they had taken down Ray so smoothly was because of their firepower.
If they had tried to fight their way up using basic weapons, the lackeys downstairs alone would have given them a massive headache.
And when it came to facing Ray himself, the gun in his hand would have been a major threat. At that point, it would have been anyone’s game.
Dropping the subject, the group went back to tossing Ray’s living quarters.
Leonard, however, couldn’t care less about the alcohol, cigarettes, or medicine they were unearthing. He had plenty of that stuff stockpiled in his own spatial dimension, to say nothing of what was in Suzy’s space.
To him, this stuff was practically worthless.
"Is it just me, or is this Ray guy incredibly poor?"
After looking around and failing to find anything to his liking, Leonard grumbled with deep dissatisfaction.
"Poor??? Do you even hear yourself right now?!"
Lucas, who was happily guarding several crates of supplies, looked at Leonard like he had grown a second head.
Seriously, listen to yourself.
With this much loot, everyone would get a massive haul even after splitting it equally. And he called this poor?
Then again, the crew from the 20th floor had an arsenal of guns. They probably had access to a treasure trove of high-end supplies, so it made sense that they would look down on a haul like this.
Lucas felt another wave of envy and jealousy wash over him.
Beyond that, however, he didn’t dare harbor any dangerous thoughts.
After all, the 20th-floor group had guns. On top of that, they had Thomas—a man with terrifying combat capabilities.
That man hadn’t even blinked when he pulled the trigger, and he had been dropping guys left and right with single kicks. He must have been a ruthless character even before the apocalypse.
If Lucas dared to try anything funny, he’d probably end up just like Ray.
Recalling the horrific sight of Ray’s head being blown apart, Lucas shrank his neck back. He wanted no part of that.
At this moment, Lucas possessed a very healthy dose of self-awareness.
"Hey, I found the real good stuff over here!" Just then, Elijah shouted excitedly from the bedroom where he had been searching.
"What kind of good stuff?"
"Come on out and take a look!"
As soon as he spoke, Elijah strutted out of the bedroom, proudly parading himself in front of everyone.
"Look at this. This guy was filthy rich."
Elijah’s neck was currently draped in an assortment of necklaces.
Jade, gold, silver—some big, some small. There were easily dozens of them, all piled around his neck, clinking loudly with every step he took. He looked exactly like a walking jewelry rack.
Not only that, but all ten of his fingers were covered in rings. Diamond rings, gold rings, jade rings—he had them all.
Bill stared at him, utterly speechless.
Looking at his gaudy, nouveau-riche display, Lucas’s face twisted in disgust. "Aren’t you worried you’ll sprain your neck? Nowadays, you couldn’t even trade this junk for a pack of biscuits, and here you are wearing it like it’s buried treasure."
Elijah shrugged off the criticism. He slid a stack of gold bangles off his wrist, tossed them lightly in his hand, and smiled so widely his eyes narrowed into slits. "You don’t get it. This is about sentimentality. I couldn’t afford this stuff before the apocalypse, but now I get to hoard it for free. It feels great."
"Here, you want some?"
Lucas rolled his eyes, completely over the conversation. He turned around and went back to rummaging through the cabinets.
It was the end of the world—why on earth would he want to carry that junk around? It would only get in the way when he needed to wield a weapon.
