The Lazy Chronicles: Apartment of the Apocalypse-Chapter 66: Chaos at the Compound

The escape from the lab had left the group exhausted but alive, clutching the critical flash drive that Clara assured them contained the research they needed. Mallory lounged on the couch in their temporary hideout, a fortified compound run by a ragtag group of survivors. The compound had once been a high school, and remnants of its educational past were still visible—crayon drawings taped to walls, stacks of outdated textbooks, and a faint smell of chalk dust.

"Home sweet high school," Mallory muttered, tossing a pencil into the air and catching it with an exaggerated flourish.

"Please tell me you’re not planning to stay lazy while we figure out what to do next," Altair said, leaning against a desk and glaring at her.

Mallory grinned. "Why would I change now? Besides, you’re all so good at taking things seriously. I’d just get in the way."

Clara sighed, spreading out a map on the desk. "The data on this drive could save lives, but we need equipment to analyze it. The lab was a bust, so we’re back to square one."

Greg was rummaging through a duffel bag filled with scavenged goods. He pulled out a jar of peanut butter and frowned. "Square one tastes suspiciously like expired peanut butter."

Alex laughed, snatching the jar. "I’ll take that off your hands. Protein is protein."

The room fell into a comfortable silence as everyone settled into their own tasks. Mallory took a bite out of a candy bar she’d liberated from a vending machine during their escape. She didn’t notice Blinky perched on the back of the couch, chirping excitedly as it stared at the wrapper in her hand.

"You want this?" she asked, holding up the candy bar.

Blinky beeped in affirmation.

"Robots don’t eat," Mallory said, shaking her head.

Greg glanced up from his scavenged goods. "Don’t question Blinky. It’s smarter than all of us combined."

"Debatable," Mallory said, handing over the wrapper. Blinky happily scooped it up and scuttled away, chirping triumphantly.

The moment of calm was shattered when the door to the room burst open, and a tall woman with sharp features stormed in. Her perfectly styled hair and pristine clothing suggested she hadn’t spent much time fighting zombies.

"Who’s this?" Mallory asked, raising an eyebrow.

"This," Greg said with a groan, "is Sylvia."

Sylvia flipped her hair and crossed her arms, her gaze sweeping over the group like they were a group of unruly students. "You’re the ones causing chaos in the compound?"

"Define chaos," Mallory said innocently.

"You broke the vending machine," Sylvia snapped.

Mallory smirked. "It was an emergency."

Sylvia’s glare could have melted steel. "This is my compound, and I don’t tolerate freeloaders. If you’re going to stay here, you’ll work."

"Define work," Mallory said, matching Sylvia’s tone.

"Anything that doesn’t involve you lying on that couch eating snacks!"

The room fell silent, everyone watching the standoff with a mix of amusement and apprehension.

Mallory stood slowly, stretching her arms with an exaggerated yawn. "Fine. I’ll work. But don’t blame me if the zombies find your compound boring and decide to leave."

Sylvia’s lips twitched in frustration. "You have one hour to report to the kitchen. They need help with cleanup."

Mallory saluted lazily. "Yes, ma’am."

As soon as Sylvia stormed out, Greg burst out laughing. "I think you just made an enemy for life."

"Good," Mallory said, collapsing back onto the couch. "She’s too uptight. Someone needs to keep her on her toes."

"Just try not to get us kicked out," Clara said, rolling her eyes.

---

An hour later, Mallory begrudgingly made her way to the kitchen. The chaos she found there rivaled anything she’d seen in the apocalypse. Pots and pans were scattered across every surface, a group of survivors argued over the proper way to cook canned beans, and someone had started a fire in what looked like an attempt to toast bread.

"This is your idea of cleanup?" Mallory muttered, dodging a flying spoon.

A burly man with a stained apron pointed at her with a ladle. "You’re new. Grab a mop and start scrubbing."

Mallory scanned the room, her eyes landing on a mop that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since the beginning of time. "Hard pass," she said.

"Excuse me?" the man barked.

"I said no," Mallory replied, crossing her arms. "You want me to work? Fine. But I’m not touching that biohazard."

Before the man could argue, Blinky appeared at Mallory’s feet, chirping and waving a tiny claw.

"Perfect timing, buddy," Mallory said, crouching down. "Think you can handle this mess?"

Blinky beeped enthusiastically and zipped off, its legs whirring as it began picking up scraps of food and tossing them into a trash can.

The kitchen staff stared in disbelief as the tiny robot efficiently cleaned the room.

"Is that a...spider?" one of them asked, wide-eyed.

"Technically, it’s a multi-purpose robotic assistant," Mallory said, leaning against the counter. "But you can call it a spider if it makes you feel better."

The burly man shook his head, muttering something about "lazy kids these days."

Mallory grinned. "Don’t hate the player, hate the apocalypse."

---

Back in the main room, the rest of the group was finalizing their next move.

"We need to head north," Clara said, tracing a line on the map. "There’s a facility there that might have the equipment we need."

"That’s a long trip," Alex said. "Do we have enough supplies?"

"Barely," Greg admitted.

"Then we’d better stock up," Clara said. "Mallory, think you can charm the quartermaster into giving us extra rations?"

"Charm?" Mallory said, pretending to be offended. "I’ll have you know I’m a master negotiator."

"More like a master moocher," Altair muttered.

Mallory ignored him, already planning her approach.

---

The quartermaster’s office was a cluttered mess, but Mallory’s smile never wavered as she leaned against the counter.

"Hi there," she said, batting her eyelashes. "I was hoping you could help me out."

The grizzled man behind the counter raised an eyebrow. "What do you want?"

"Just a few extra supplies," Mallory said sweetly.

"Why should I?"

Mallory leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Because if you don’t, I’ll send Blinky in here to reorganize your shelves. And trust me, it won’t be pretty."

The man stared at her for a long moment before bursting into laughter. "You’ve got guts, kid. Fine. Take what you need."

Mallory beamed. "You won’t regret it!"

As she left with an armful of supplies, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. Sylvia might think she was lazy, but Mallory knew the truth: sometimes, brains were better than brawn.

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