He returned to the shelter.
In the center was a large flat complex, flanked on both sides by many tents—all temporarily erected for the survivors to live in.
Don't be fooled by the area, which seemed to be only a few thousand square feet, but it housed sixty to seventy survivors.
A burly man pushed his way into the flat complex; inside, a crowd had already gathered. The faces of these survivors were etched with hardship, and a few even bore a crueler countenance. To have survived this apocalypse, one needed more than a bit of skill.
As soon as the burly man entered, he threw his sunglasses on the table, "Damn, not much to find, only a few boxes of instant noodles and a few buckets of purified water."
They didn't go collecting in the city; it was too dangerous, teeming with zombies, so they targeted the scattered places with houses.
Everyone looked at the burly man, dissatisfied with such meager loot. If things continued this way, they would have to venture into the city next.
