Yuan Shenzi lay awake in the final hours of Night 2, cocooned inside his improved blanket shelter. The enclosed space was almost perfectly silent except for the soft rhythm of his own breathing. Outside, the blizzard roared on in a muffled, endless fury, occasionally punctuated by distant zombie groans that sounded closer than the night before. One particularly loud scraping noise dragged against the barricaded main doors, like frozen nails on metal. Shenzi sat up instantly, hand closing around the handle of a scavenged utility knife. He waited, muscles tense, until the sound slowly faded away into the storm.
He lay back down, staring into the darkness. Warmth and food were already secured. The next logical step would be fuel or light. His mind turned the possibilities over with calm precision, calculating risks and applications. Speculation was useful only when paired with preparation.
The gray light outside began its slow creep toward dawn.
At precisely 06:00 AM, the familiar translucent blue panel materialized in the dimness.
[Dawn of Day 3. Reward distribution.]
The mechanical voice echoed clearly in his mind.
[Congratulations, Host. You have received: Unlimited Propane Fuel.]
A sturdy, sealed 20-liter propane cylinder appeared on the floor beside his blanket nest, complete with a regulator valve and short hose attachment. The metal surface felt cold to the touch against the surrounding warmth. Shenzi reached out and manifested a second identical cylinder right next to the first, confirming the unlimited nature of the gift. He cracked the valve on the first tank just slightly. A faint hiss escaped, carrying the sharp, chemical scent of propane.
Fuel. A slow nod of satisfaction crossed his face. "Now I can generate actual heat instead of just trapping it."
He carried one cylinder to the small staff break room at the back of the ground floor, a compact, enclosed space with a counter, sink, and partial walls that made it ideal for controlled use. Using items scavenged from the household section, he found a couple of basic camping stoves. He elevated them on bricks and metal trays for stability and ventilation, then connected the propane cylinder with careful, methodical movements. Safety came first: he positioned thermal blankets as reflective barriers and heat shields to direct warmth inward while minimizing fire risk in the dry environment.
Shenzi twisted the valve and struck a match from the store's supply. A soft blue flame hissed to life.
The effect was immediate. Radiant heat washed over his face and hands, pushing back the ambient chill of the room. Within minutes, the small enclosed space grew noticeably warmer. The flame burned clean and steady, its gentle hiss a soothing counterpoint to the blizzard outside. He adjusted the reflector blankets, maximizing efficiency. For the first time since the world had frozen, real, active heat filled his sanctuary—not just trapped body warmth, but controllable, reliable heat.
Satisfied with the setup, Shenzi moved on to his first proper hot meal. He selected a can of thick beef stew from the food section, using the propane flame to thaw and then heat it. The metal can warmed quickly. Soon, rich steam rose in curling tendrils, carrying the savory aroma of meat, vegetables, and broth through the break room. He stirred carefully with a plastic spoon, then lifted the first spoonful to his lips.
The heat spread across his tongue and down his throat, warming him from the inside out. After days of cold, dense rations and lukewarm soup, the simple hot meal felt like a profound luxury. Each bite delivered comfort and satisfaction that went beyond mere nutrition. The aroma lingered pleasantly in the air, mixing with the clean scent of burning propane.
While he ate slowly, savoring every spoonful, his mind already planned ahead. Propane could be used for better lighting once he located or improvised lanterns. It could melt snow for fresh water. Larger setups might even allow for more ambitious cooking or heating entire sections of the store. The possibilities expanded with every controlled flame.
Others are burning furniture and books for a few minutes of heat. I can have steady, clean heat for the rest of my life.
After finishing the meal, Shenzi reinforced the break room further, layering additional thermal blankets along the walls and entrance to create his new primary living zone. He moved several boxes of rations and spare propane cylinders there, consolidating his most critical resources into one easily defended and heated space.
With the morning progressing, he created a small observation post once more and peered through a narrow slit in the insulated window covering. The outside world had grown harsher. Survivors appeared even more gaunt and desperate, their movements sluggish in the deepening cold. More frozen bodies dotted the snow-covered street. Zombies shuffled with slightly increased purpose, their frost-encrusted forms drawn to any flicker of movement or sound. A few displayed brighter blue-glowing veins beneath their icy skin, the unnatural ice spreading faster than physics should allow around fresh corpses.
A particularly chilling moment occurred when a desperate survivor—a middle-aged man in ragged layers, stumbled toward the supermarket and began banging weakly on the barricaded doors. His voice cracked with pleas for help, raw and broken. Shenzi remained completely silent and hidden behind the blanket curtains. Moments later, a slow-moving zombie reached the man. The survivor's cries cut off abruptly as frost claimed him first.
Shenzi stepped back from the observation slit without expression. The propane changed everything, heat, cooking, potential hot water, but noise and light could attract unwanted attention. Caution remained essential.
He returned to the break room, where the steady blue flame continued to burn. The aroma of hot soup still lingered faintly in the warm air. Shenzi sat in the comfortable heat, feeling the first true escalation of control since the apocalypse began.
Yet as he listened to the growing cacophony outside, the howling wind, the increasing zombie moans, and distant desperate cries, he understood the trade-off clearly. Every improvement in comfort also raised the risk of discovery.
The fourth dawn was only one day away.
And the frozen apocalypse showed no sign of slowing its merciless advance.