Chapter 3

Logan pinched the fabric of the black down jacket between his fingers, then thumped his own chest. "I don't need this. I've got my limited-edition windbreaker. It's high-tech fabric, windproof and waterproof."

"It's dozens of degrees below zero outside! It's going to drop even lower in here! If you won't put it on, then freeze to death for all I care!"

Maybe my expression scared him, because Logan pouted a little. Even so, he still tossed the down jacket aside. "I told you, I'm not cold. I'm a young guy, I run hot. This temperature is nothing."

"Everyone, quiet down please! I'm the manager of this supermarket. We're in an unusual situation. We don't know when outside rescue will arrive. For everyone's safety, we need to manage our supplies collectively!"

The supermarket manager stood in the middle of the crowd with a megaphone and began taking charge.

The moment he said 'manage collectively,' some people were not having it.

"On what grounds? I grabbed it, so it's mine!"

"Yeah, I already paid for my stuff!"

The manager wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and shouted back.

"Listen to me, everyone. The heating is already out, and we only have enough power for emergency lighting. If we don't work together, none of us are making it out of here alive! I need everyone to gather in the first-floor lobby. We'll arrange the shelves into a barrier against the wind, and all food and warm clothing will be distributed evenly!"

It was the most rational decision anyone could have made. Most people were reluctant, but they slowly started gathering.

Logan found a clean corner, sat down on the floor, and started playing a mobile game. He kept yelling, "Pentakill! Pentakill!" at his screen.

A woman nearby who was holding a child stared at him in disbelief. "Hey, kid, come help us move stuff. Moving around will at least keep you warm."

Logan rolled his eyes. "I'm here as a customer, not a laborer. These hands are meant for professional esports. Besides, I spent a ton of money here. That's basically a contribution to the store's profits. What's wrong with sitting down for a bit?"

The woman was so stunned she could not even respond. She shook her head and walked away.

I was in the middle of helping carry boxes, and when I heard what he said, my face burned with embarrassment.

…

Night fell, and the sound of the wind and snow outside turned into a howling wail. Even though we had used shelves and cardboard boxes to seal off the entrance to the first-floor lobby, the piercing cold still found its way into every crack, seeping into everyone's bones.

The manager organized a few male employees to gather up all the food and water, then began distributing it by headcount.

"One bottle of water per person, two packs of compressed biscuits. Ration it carefully. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here."

The manager's voice was already hoarse from shouting.

"We're eating this?" Logan scowled. "This stuff's hard as a rock. Even a dog wouldn't eat it. I want steak."

I lowered my voice. "Where exactly do you think we're going to cook you a steak right now? Give it a rest."

"I'm still growing! I need real protein!" Logan would not let it go. "I already have a bad stomach. Eating biscuits like these is going to give me cramps. Ross, go talk to that manager for me. Tell him I'm related to the deputy director from our county. Get him to set up something special for me."

I felt my temples throbbing. "Logan, Uncle Tony was barely a mid-level bureaucrat, and he's been retired for three years! Nobody cares who you're related to right now. If you want special treatment, go ask for it yourself. I'm not embarrassing myself like that."

Logan glared at me. Then, the very next second, he actually went and did it.