Chapter 89: Popcorn?
Commander Li stood in front of the closed door, his rifle held at low ready as his eyes completed a final sweep of the exterior.
The windows were intact, the structure showed no visible damage, and there were no signs of forced entry or recent disturbance. The door itself bore marks from repeated impact, deep grooves cut into the wood from a zombie or something else that had tried to get through and failed.
The hinges held firm, and the frame had not warped under pressure.
Nothing presented itself as an immediate threat, and nothing required deviation from standard procedure. They needed to check the house for supplies.
He raised two fingers, and his team moved into position without hesitation.
Corporal Chen took the left side of the door while Private Wang mirrored him on the right. Sergeant Liu stepped back three paces, lifting his rifle to cover the entry point, and Private Tan settled at Li’s shoulder.
Each man adjusted his footing by instinct, spacing themselves to avoid overlap while maintaining clear lines of fire and movement. The formation locked in smoothly, practiced enough that no verbal confirmation was needed.
Li reached for the handle, his gloved hand closing around the metal. He turned it slowly, registering the quiet click of the latch as it disengaged. There was no resistance, no drag in the mechanism, and no indication that the door had been barricaded from the inside. He shifted his weight forward and pushed the door open with his boot, raising his rifle slightly as the interior revealed itself in measured sections.
The entryway came into view first, followed by the hallway beyond it, and then the living room opened up in a clear, uninterrupted line of sight.
The space was well lit, the light falling naturally across the floor and furniture without obstruction. The surfaces were clean, not recently wiped in haste, but maintained over time.
There was no dust gathered in the corners, no debris tracked across the floor, and no visible disruption to the layout of the room.
They moved in together.
Chen cleared the left side of the room, checking the immediate wall, doorway, and corner before shifting his angle deeper into the space.
Wang moved right, mirroring the motion, his gaze tracking along the wall, the window, and the open areas between furniture.
Li advanced through the centerline, his pace steady and controlled, while Liu held position at the entrance. Tan followed last, closing the door quietly behind them before stepping into position to maintain coverage.
They halted as a unit.
Nothing in the room reacted.
Li’s attention moved first to the couch. A young man lay stretched across it with a controller in his hands, his focus fixed on a game playing on the screen. The sound was low, consistent, and uninterrupted.
His posture was relaxed, his shoulders loose, and his legs angled comfortably across the cushions. His fingers moved across the controller with steady precision, pressing buttons in a rhythm that matched the on-screen action.
He did not look up when the soldiers entered, and there was no shift in his breathing or posture to suggest awareness or concern.
Li noted the distance between the man and the nearest surface, the angle of his arms, and the placement of the controller.
His gaze moved on.
A wingback chair sat near the couch, angled slightly inward toward the center of the room. A man occupied it, holding a physical newspaper open across his lap. The pages were worn at the edges, folded and refolded enough times to soften the paper. His eyes moved across the text at a steady pace, tracking each line without interruption. He turned a page with a small, practiced motion, smoothing it down with his palm before continuing.
He did not acknowledge the soldiers.
His posture remained composed, his back straight against the chair, his weight evenly distributed. His hands rested naturally on the paper, fingers relaxed, not curled or tense.
Li observed the placement of the chair, the angle it provided into the room, and the line of sight it maintained toward the entryway.
He continued forward.
The kitchen extended deeper into the house, partially obscured by the wall separating it from the living room. A man stood at the counter, opening a microwave and placing a bag inside. The door closed with a soft click, and the appliance began its steady hum. The sound filled the room evenly, not loud, but consistent enough to mark the passage of time.
The man leaned slightly against the counter as he waited, one hand resting near the edge while the other hung loosely at his side. His movements were unhurried, his posture balanced, and his attention remained on the task in front of him.
Li adjusted his position by a single step, widening his angle into the kitchen.
Another man stood further back, positioned where he had a clear line of sight into the living room. He was not engaged in any visible activity, and his posture remained neutral. His arms hung at his sides, his stance neither wide nor narrow, and his weight remained evenly distributed between both feet.
He did not shift when Li moved.
He did not look away.
He simply remained where he was.
Li cataloged each position, each posture, and each line of sight in sequence. His rifle lowered by a fraction, not enough to disengage, but enough to reflect the absence of immediate escalation. His finger remained along the guard, ready but not committed.
"Stay sharp," he said quietly.
Chen adjusted his stance in response, shifting his weight to maintain his angle on the room. Wang took a small step along the wall, ensuring no blind spots remained. Liu held steady at the entrance, covering the rear, while Tan remained close, his position aligned with Li’s.
The microwave continued its steady hum.
No one spoke.
No one moved to acknowledge them.
The man on the couch continued his game, the controller clicking softly in his hands. The man in the chair read on, turning another page without breaking rhythm. The man at the counter waited for the microwave, his posture unchanged, while the man further back maintained his position, observing the room without drawing attention to himself.
Li held his ground, allowing the silence to settle.
Then something shifted.
Low.
On the other side of the couch.
A young woman lifted her head just enough to be seen. Her eyes met Li’s briefly before she looked away again, a lollipop resting between her lips. She did not move from where she was, her posture loose, her presence unobtrusive.
Li spared her a single glance.
Then returned his attention to the men.
The microwave beeped.
The man at the counter opened it, removed the bag, and tore it open with a smooth motion. The scent of butter spread through the air as he poured the contents into a bowl, the sound soft and controlled as the kernels settled.
He turned then, facing the soldiers fully.
His gaze moved across Li and his men without hesitation. He stepped forward slightly, lifting the bowl in one hand as if the situation required no further consideration.
"Popcorn?"
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