Apocalypse Queen: My Space, My Rules Chapter 97: Overtime in the Storage Space

Now that her static storage had expanded significantly, she no longer needed to use the apartment inside the space as a makeshift warehouse.

Chandler noticed the look of regret on Mariella's face and offered, "I know a large furniture showroom. They were running a trade show a few days before the storms hit. It's on high ground. Probably wasn't fully submerged. We could look for furniture there."

Mariella perked up immediately. She cracked open two cans of beer and handed him one.

They clinked cans, drank deep, and then it was time to put their heads down and eat.

When they'd had their fill, Mariella swept all the disposable tableware into the trash. She'd dump it on the way out of the space.

"Digest your food. Then we get to work." She flashed the ruthless smile of a true capitalist. "Tonight, we're pulling overtime."

...

Mariella pulled out two disposable hazmat suits and handed one to Chandler.

They suited up and started on the biggest bull.

The animal had just died. With one clean cut to the jugular, the blood drained into a basin.

Mariella's favorite thing in the world was blood pudding, which was essential for fondue.

Three full basins of bull's blood were set out on the apartment balcony to coagulate naturally.

Mariella handled the assistant work. Chandler gripped a razor-sharp combat knife and stripped the entire hide in one clean piece.

He asked the boss what she wanted done with it.

Mariella tossed the fresh cowhide into the static storage. She'd figure out how to cure it when she had time.

The two of them took up knives and axes and dismembered the bull together. They pulled the organs, then hauled water from the pond to rinse everything clean.

A bull weighing over 1,500 pounds was broken down into six sections. The head and tail were too much hassle to deal with now, so those went straight into static storage, too.

Mariella stacked the four cleaned legs and two rib sections and moved them into static storage. The washed organs and offal went into plastic bags and followed.

Next up, the sheep.

She picked the fattest one of the bunch and slit its throat without a second thought. She was after the blood pudding—the real deal.

It was pure sheep's blood, with no fillers and no shortcuts.

Mariella was draining the blood while swallowing.

"I love sheep's blood when I do fondue. Duck blood is a close second. How about you?" She'd caught Chandler watching her.

Chandler looked away casually. "Either works."

Mariella stared at him.

Any conversation with this man had a way of hitting a wall. Better to just keep working.

Chandler wasn't built for small talk. He really was built for hard labor.

...

The sheepskins, heads, and tails were also temporarily stored for later processing.

Each sheep was quartered into six sections: four legs and two racks of ribs.

Organs were cleaned, bagged, and stored alongside the meat.

When they finished, they cleaned up the floor, peeled off the soiled hazmat suits, and washed their hands.

"Want something to drink?" Mariella asked.

Before Chandler could answer, she added, "Tonight's overtime is probably going to run past midnight."

"Whatever you're having." Chandler said. He didn't have strong preferences.

Mariella pulled out two chocolate lattes and handed him one.

The rich, velvety chocolate was a godsend for her parched throat. It was exactly how she liked it—topped with molten chocolate chips that snapped between her teeth and a thick swirl of marshmallow fluff mixed in.

When she noticed Chandler had only taken a few sips before setting his aside, she reached back into her bag and pulled out a crisp, cold seltzer for him instead.

They rested briefly, then launched into the next round.

This time it wasn't butchering. It was relocating every last supply from the three-story apartment into the static storage zone, freeing up the apartment for new furniture.

The static zone had expanded to 66,300 cubic feet. It was massive. No more penny-pinching, no more cramming supplies into the apartment to save space.

After clearing the apartment, they still couldn't leave the space, because the garden crops needed watering.

Chandler was too useful. Mariella grabbed him and worked him to the bone.

The garden had grown to about 1,100 square feet, but the planted area was still modest.

She'd put in roughly 100 square feet each of wheat, corn, and sweet potatoes, plus three pumpkin plants, three wood-ear lettuce plants, and three blueberry bushes.

Mariella was running experiments on growth cycles and crop yields of different grains, fruits, and vegetables first. Once she identified the best cost-to-output ratio, she'd scale up.

She set up a water pump by the pond. Chandler took the hose and irrigated.

About fifteen minutes, and he'd covered everything.

He helped put away the pump and hose. Mariella plucked a stalk of green wheat and checked the kernels.

The wheat had been planted only two weeks ago and was already heading. Proof that the soil upgrade from yellow to red earth had shortened the growth cycle and sped up the harvest.