Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 91: The Crocodile Crisis

Mariella smiled warmly. "Of course."

She had Matthew open one of the courtyard storerooms. Inside were 20 diesel generators.

Terrence had the car brought around. His two bodyguards loaded every unit.

"Mr. Hancock also asked me to pass along some news. He's heard that Liraelith's official food and supply warehouse was hit by a flash flood and collapsed. Without emergency rations, the displaced population may start to revolt. It's dangerous out there. Ms. Townsend, you should stay inside the neighborhood."

Mariella's lashes fluttered. She sighed. "More bad news."

The disaster was worse than her past life. Back then, there'd been no reports of the government supply warehouse collapsing.

Terrence continued, "Mr. Hancock has been appointed as the neighborhood's emergency homeowner representative. He has a lot to balance. He asked me to tell you: if you need anything at all, just ask. He'll find a way to help."

Mariella could hear the subtext. "What else happened?"

"A large number of crocodiles have been spotted inside Celestine Ridge, and there have been attacks. The property security team has organized patrols to hunt them down, but they're short-staffed. So, Mr. Hancock is asking each household to contribute at least two bodyguards to the rotation."

Terrence paused briefly, then added, "If Ms. Townsend doesn't have enough people..."

"I have bodyguards. We'll join the regular rotation." Mariella didn't want a free pass, and she didn't want to owe Kieran any favors.

Favors are a double-edged sword, and she didn't want to overstay her welcome.

Besides, her team had been drilling for a while now. It was time to face real combat.

The apocalypse was just getting started. If they couldn't handle something as straightforward as this, there was no way they'd survive what came later.

Survival of the fittest. The strong lived.

...

Mariella had Matthew see Terrence off, then went into the storeroom and shut the door. She moved the 44 pounds of gold into her storage space.

She checked the space in her mind. The static zone had expanded by another 1,400 cubic feet, bringing it to roughly 66,300 cubic feet total. The apartment had gained about 50 square feet, now at approximately 3,930 square feet. The garden had grown by about 40 square feet, now around 1,100 square feet.

The space countdown still accumulated three hours per day. After subtracting what she'd already used, the remaining total stood at sixty-six hours and twenty-seven minutes.

The pond at the edge of the garden seemed slightly larger, and the emerald bracelet on her wrist had grown even more faint.

Mariella was about to check on the garden crops when a knock came at the door.

"Mariella, are you in there?" Matthew called.

She remembered she was still in the storeroom.

She went to the door and opened it, casual as anything. "Just rearranging some things. All good."

...

In the main dining room on the first floor, the bodyguards were discussing the crocodile attacks.

The power had only been out for three days, so the regular group chats were still active.

All anyone talked about was the blackout, the lack of food, and the government's failure to deliver emergency rations.

Survivors who'd tried to go out scavenging had watched people get killed by crocodiles with their own eyes.

"Just catch the crocs and eat them! It's free food from above!" The starving had lost all sense of caution, throwing out wild battle cries.

But crocodiles were vicious, and their hide was thick. Hunting them for food was nearly impossible. More often, the hunters became the hunted.

Even so, the desperate kept trying.

"Screw it! Either they eat us, or we eat them! I'm going!"

"I can't just sit here and watch my family starve. Who wants to form a croc-hunting squad? Bigger team, better odds. We split the catch."

Reading this, the bodyguards sat in heavy silence.

They'd just collected 300,000-dollar salaries. They were living in a spacious, well-fortified townhouse with three meals a day guaranteed.

Compared to the hell ordinary survivors were going through, they were practically in paradise.

Which was exactly why a constant low-level dread clung to them—the fear that at any second, the boss might cut them loose, and they'd be out there risking their lives hunting crocodiles just to eat.

When Mariella walked in with Matthew, the room went dead silent. Even Serena and Lucky stiffened up.

They knew she had something to say.

"You've all heard about the crocodile situation by now. Because we're in a neighborhood with open ground, the crocs getting in here are actually worse than in the regular apartment blocks.

"Property security is running 24-hour patrols, hunting every croc that gets in, but they're short-handed.

"Every household needs to contribute at least two bodyguards to the rotation. Any croc killed solo belongs to whoever killed it. Joint kills get split evenly."