Chapter 243: End of The Clearing Day

The next several hours passed relatively smoothly and without major incident as I—along with Ivy, who seemed completely unwilling to leave my side for reasons she refused to explain—helped the various clearing teams eliminate as many remaining Infected as possible from the blocks surrounding our new settlement.

I would focus mainly on taking care of actual fighting situations, dispatching Infected. Ivy would provide minimal medical treatment when necessary, though honestly everyone was performing remarkably well at handling the standard Infected without sustaining serious injuries.

The teamwork and coordination were genuinely impressive.

In fact, there hadn’t been a single death announced throughout the entire day—not one casualty despite hours of continuous engagement with potentially lethal threats across multiple city blocks.

Everyone had followed the smart approach of working together in organized groups of three to five people, watching each other’s backs and covering vulnerabilities.

We continued that steady pace of systematic elimination for roughly two more hours. When we’d finally taken care of most visible Infected within the surrounding blocks we’d designated as our security perimeter, the entire group gathered together and began the next phase—actually delimiting and fortifying the cleared territory.

At least a little.

This meant moving through the area and constructing makeshift barricades and barriers, starting with the space around the Whitesun Hotel itself and then extending outward to encompass the approximate area we’d successfully secured.

One portion of our combined group focused on that fortification work—pushing abandoned vehicles into blocking positions across streets and stacking debris to create obstacles against Infected and potentially human as well actually.

Meanwhile, the remaining workers took care of properly disposing of Infected bodies—dragging corpses to designated spots away from living spaces, preparing them for eventual burning once we’d established safer protocols than Brad’s idiotic approach.

The whole process was progressing very smoothly, and everyone seemed to be in genuinely good spirits despite the exhausting physical labor and grim nature of the work.

The sun was definitely going to set within the next hour based on its position and the quality of light, so we were all hurrying slightly to complete as much as possible before darkness made everything more difficult and dangerous. But honestly, things were moving at a very satisfying pace.

"I honestly didn’t think we’d accomplish this much this quickly," Rachel commented as she joined me in helping push an abandoned car into position to block one of the main road approaches. "When we first saw how spread out the Infected were, I thought we’d be working for days just to clear a safe area."

"Well, when everyone’s actually working together cooperatively without being stupidly obstructive or causing problems, tasks tend to go fast and smoothly," I said with a smile, pushing the car against another vehicle to create a more substantial barrier.

"You’re talking about Brad and his group, aren’t you?" Rachel asked with a knowing giggle.

"Thankfully, they stayed back at the hotel and took care of burning the bodies," I said, not wanting to speak too negatively about them though as they still did something. "So they weren’t around to create friction or slow things down out here."

"And what kind of complete moron would choose to burn rotting Infected corpses directly in front of the place where people are going to be sleeping?" Christopher asked, shaking his head with exasperated disbelief as he joined our conversation. "Like, that’s the exact opposite of where you’d want that horrible smell concentrated."

"Let me take a wild guess about who made that brilliant decision," Sydney chimed in, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Does the culprit’s name perhaps start with ’Bra’ and end with a ’D’—as in ’dick’?"

"A perfect combination of letters that accurately describes both the name and the person," Cindy added with a smirk.

"You guys should probably avoid letting him actually hear you talking like this," Christopher warned with a serious expression, though his tone carried obvious joking. "Don’t forget Brad has a gun now. He might just shoot you down out of spite if you keep openly mocking him."

"Oh my God, I’m so terrified!" Sydney shouted dramatically, clasping her hands together in mocking fear. "Thank goodness we have Ryan with us! He’ll definitely beat the shit out of Brad if anything happens! My hero and protector!"

Her theatrical performance earned genuine laughter from everyone nearby who’d heard the exchange.

I knew I was definitely going to be hearing variations of that mocking praise until the absolute end of my life.

"That’s right, yeah, just keep laughing at my expense," I scoffed good-naturedly, turning around to check inside the car we’d just positioned, searching for anything potentially useful in the interior.

But before I could properly examine the vehicle, Sydney suddenly jumped onto my back without warning, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and pressing herself against me.

"You know you’re really cute when you’re embarrassed and trying not to laugh?" She whispered directly into my ear, her breath warm against my skin.

Then she bit down gently on my earlobe—not hard enough to cause pain, but with definite pressure.

I stiffened involuntarily at the sensation.

"Sensitivity to stimulation—especially sexual sensation—gets enhanced thanks to Dullahan’s modifications," Sydney continued whispering, clearly aware of exactly what effect she was having. "You must be feeling that bite much more strongly than normal right now, right? I bet it’s almost overwhelming."

"Y...yeah, I definitely felt it, so please get off," I complained, trying to maintain composure despite the distraction she was creating.

"Nah! Don’t wanna!" She refused cheerfully, tightening her grip around my shoulders.

"Alright, it’s been an extremely long and exhausting day for everyone, so you should probably rest and recover your energy, Sydney," Rachel intervened, reaching out to physically pull Sydney away from my back. "Save your energy for when we actually need it."

Freed from the distraction, I quickly returned my attention to searching the car’s interior—checking the front storage compartment and glove box for anything valuable.

I only found old bills, random papers, and expired registration documents. Nothing particularly useful.

"Did you check the trunk yet?" Cindy asked, moving around to the rear of the vehicle to investigate.

She popped the trunk open and immediately raised an eyebrow in pleasant surprise at what she discovered inside.

"Found bottled water and bags of rice here," she said. "Looks like someone was doing supply shopping when everything went bad and just abandoned their car."

"That’s genuinely nice," Christopher said enthusiastically. "Let’s pack all of that up and bring it back. Every bit of food and clean water helps."

"Alright, I think we’ve done enough fortification work on this section," I said, surveying our progress. "Let’s head back and grab the others who’ve been waiting at that intersection. They’ve been holding position alone long enough."

"Do we really need all of us to go together just to collect them though?" Sydney asked. "Seems like overkill for a simple pickup."

"No need for everyone," Martin’s voice came from behind us as he approached with a tired but satisfied smile. "I’ll go call them back. You’ve all been working hard enough."

"You look absolutely horrible, Martin," Christopher said with a laugh, taking in Martin’s blood-splattered clothing and general disheveled appearance. "Like you went swimming in a pool of Infected blood."

"Let’s hope you’re not hiding any bite wounds under that manly, blood-soaked exterior," Sydney added.

Martin rolled his eyes at their teasing. "Any of you self-proclaimed supermen want to accompany me on this simple task?"

"I’m in," Christopher volunteered immediately with a grin, clearly not bothered by the blood or exhaustion.

"He specifically asked for a superman, Chris," Sydney pointed out. "And you definitely don’t qualify for that category."

"Fuck off, Sydney," Christopher snorted without any real heat. "At least I am offering help!"

"Alright, alright—if you need an actual capable hand, I’m available," Sydney smirked and joined them.

The three of them headed off together toward where the rest of Martin’s team was positioned.

"Let’s rejoin the main group," I said to Cindy and Rachel, who both nodded in agreement.

We walked back together toward the Whitesun Hotel, where the rest of our combined group was gradually gathering in front of the main entrance after completing their various assigned tasks throughout the surrounding blocks.

Everyone looked thoroughly tired and exhausted from working nearly the entire day under the scorching summer sun—faces flushed, clothing soaked with sweat, movements showing the heaviness of accumulated fatigue. But despite the obvious physical toll, everyone wore genuine smiles of satisfaction and accomplishment.

Looking around at the transformed area, I felt genuinely pleased seeing how proper and completely devoid of wandering Infected it now appeared. The streets were clear, the perimeter was secured, and the hotel itself stood ready to receive its new inhabitants.

"I hope you guys didn’t completely mess things up while you were out there," Brad’s voice cut through my positive assessment as he approached our group.

"Mess up what, exactly?" Cindy asked with obvious irritation.

Kyle shrugged with provocation. "You guys are supposedly the ones with responsibility for clearing the hotel interior, right? So from this point forward, any deaths that happen inside the building are going to be because of you and your incompetent clearing job. Remember that when someone gets killed by an Infected you missed."

"What absolutely dumb logic," Cindy said, rolling her eyes with exasperation. "If you get yourself killed by falling down the hotel stairs because you’re clumsy or drunk, that’s going to be your own fault, not ours."

"Do I look like I’m that dumb?!" Kyle glared at her, his face flushing with anger.

"Do you genuinely want to hear the honest answer to that question?" Cindy glared right back at him without flinching.

"Alright, we’re going to do a final verification sweep of the hotel interior," I interrupted quickly. "Rachel, Cindy."

I called them and started walking toward the hotel entrance, with both women following along immediately.

Brad gave me a triumphant, mocking smirk as we departed. "Got scared and running away, huh?"

"Brad..." Rachel sighed with obvious disappointment at his continued antagonistic behavior.

"Oh, Rachel..." Brad’s expression immediately smoothed and his tone shifted to something approximating charm. "How about you stay here with us instead? Those two are perfectly capable of checking the hotel by themselves. We could talk, maybe get to know each other better..."

"She’s not remotely interested in you, Brad," Cindy called back over her shoulder with a laugh. "Take the hint and move on."

"What did you just say?!" Brad’s face flushed with renewed anger as he glared after her.

"Come on, man," Billy intervened, thankfully taking his friend’s arm and pulling him away.

We entered the hotel together, leaving Brad’s group behind outside.

"You saw that interaction, Rachel?" Cindy said with a grin once we were safely inside and away from potential eavesdropping. "He’s still completely and madly in love with you. Obsessively so."

"I honestly don’t know what else to say to make it clear I’m not interested," Rachel sighed. "I’ve tried being polite, I’ve tried being direct, nothing seems to work."

She obviously couldn’t just come out and explicitly say she was in a relationship with me—not publicly, at least. Because of the unconventional polygamous nature of our arrangement, all of us were maintaining ambiguous answers to questions about our relationship status. Rachel included.

And because she couldn’t give a definitive "I’m taken" response, Brad apparently interpreted her rejections as temporary obstacles rather than permanent refusals. He still thought he had chances if he just persisted long enough.

"You don’t have to say anything more," Cindy suggested helpfully. "Just punch him directly in the face next time he gets too pushy. Physical communication he might actually understand."

"Sydney is having an extremely bad influence on you, Cindy," Rachel said with amusement.

"I think Sydney would have definitely suggested something significantly worse than a simple punch," Cindy laughed. "And didn’t Rebecca explicitly tell you that you should break Brad’s nose? I heard her give you that advice."

Rachel laughed genuinely at the memory. "She did say that, yes. Multiple times, actually."

I’d definitely overheard Rebecca make that suggestion and considerably worse recommendations—including hoping Brad would get bitten by an Infected and turned. She was extremely protective of her older sister, wasn’t she?

"Anyway, do you genuinely want us to check the entire hotel again from top to bottom?" Cindy asked me as we climbed the stairs. "We already did thorough sweeps earlier. Seems redundant."

"No, I mainly want to check the specific room where the Starakian was hiding," I explained. "I told Kunta she needed to leave by today. I’m hoping she actually followed through and vacated like she promised."

And if by any chance she hadn’t left yet and was still there, I could try asking some additional questions. Maybe she’d be willing to answer them now that we’d established something resembling trust.

We ascended quickly to the thirteenth floor and navigated directly toward the room where Rachel and I had encountered Kunta the previous day.

"Empty," Cindy said after pushing the door open and looking inside.

Yeah, it was the same room—still somewhat messy and showing the same signs of the destruction. But it was completely devoid of occupants now.

"She actually left..." Rachel muttered.

"Well, that’s definitely good," I said. "Before we head back down, let’s block the stairwell leading up from this floor to the higher levels we haven’t cleared yet."

"Just as a precaution in case Infected from the top floors stumble down and try to reach the occupied areas?" Rachel asked, immediately understanding.

"Yeah," I confirmed. "We’ll do proper clearing of those upper floors tomorrow, but until then, let’s use furniture—sofas, chairs, whatever’s available—and pile them in front of the upward stairwell access."

They both nodded in agreement, and we set to work immediately.

We systematically collected sofas and other heavy furniture pieces from the rooms on the thirteenth floor, then carefully stacked them in front of the stairwell entrance like an elaborate Tetris puzzle. The goal was creating an obstacle substantial enough that wandering Infected would have tremendous difficulty pushing through, and even if they somehow managed to dislodge the barricade, they wouldn’t have an easy descent to the occupied floors below.

After completing that fortification, we also took additional time to perform one more thorough verification sweep of the floors from the thirteenth down to the ground level.

Brad’s earlier provocation genuinely hadn’t affected me emotionally, but he’d actually made a valid point beneath the antagonism. We were the ones who’d cleared the hotel and taken responsibility for declaring it safe. So I wanted to make absolutely certain we hadn’t missed any Infected during our initial sweeps, or that none had somehow slipped inside during our absence working outside.

After roughly half an hour of careful searching and double-checking every potential hiding spot, we could confidently declare the occupied zone completely clean.

We emerged from the hotel at perfect timing—just as the rest of our group was arriving back from their various positions. Multiple cars were now parked in an organized line in front of the hotel entrance, their occupants climbing out and gathering.

But my attention was immediately caught by our distinctive camping van, also parked there among the other vehicles.

Sydney was standing in front of it, apparently speaking to an extremely flustered-looking Rebecca, whose face was red and her body language agitated.

And beside them, Daisy was literally crying?