Girl's Doomsday Rebirth Revenge & Survive novel Chapter 429

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**Doomsday Rebirth 429**
**Chapter 429: Shorty the Pony**

The woman stood before Caroline, her eyes wild and unhinged, a stark contrast to the humanity that had once defined her. It was evident that she had crossed a threshold into madness, leaving behind any semblance of the person she used to be.

As Caroline flipped through the pages of the tattered diary, a chill ran down her spine. The entries detailed the grotesque experiments and heinous acts committed by the group. The words leaped off the pages, each line a testament to their depravity.

William and the others had whispered snippets of these horrors before—tales of ambushing solitary survivors, unleashing diseases that ravaged the weak and vulnerable. Those stories, while already repugnant, barely scratched the surface of the true monstrosities they were capable of.

But this group didn’t merely spread viruses; they cultivated them.

To ensure that their deadly creations wouldn’t simply die out after a few victims fell prey, they had devised a gruesome method of containment. Several infected individuals were imprisoned, their bodies slowly deteriorating. As they neared death, fresh captives—healthy and unsuspecting—were thrown into their midst. The new arrivals would inevitably succumb, becoming unwitting hosts for the virus, allowing it to thrive and propagate once more.

“I’ve witnessed my fair share of insanity since the world fell apart,” Caroline remarked, her voice icy, her brow furrowed in disbelief. “But the depths of depravity this organization has sunk to still manage to shock me.” With a decisive motion, she tossed the diary into her spatial storage, sending it straight to the JunkEater.

Trash belonged with trash, she thought bitterly.

The diary, however, offered no clues about the location of the infected, leaving Caroline and her team to meticulously scour the surrounding area. Their efforts were in vain; they unearthed nothing of value, each empty search only deepening their frustration.

In the end, the only remnants they encountered were the lifeless bodies they discarded into a pit teeming with mutant cockroaches—nature’s grim recyclers, who would reduce the remains to nothing within days.

“Tyler, Caroline, can we head back now?” Denton whined, fanning himself with both hands, his voice laced with fatigue. “I’m exhausted, and it’s unbearably hot out here.”

Caroline, with a sigh, pulled out a thermometer. The reading was over 104 degrees.

Before the apocalypse, such heat was unbearable, but at least there had been air conditioning to offer some reprieve. Now, however, the oppressive heat felt like a relentless weight pressing down on them.

Just as Denton’s complaints reached a crescendo, Tyler, with a flourish, produced three ice pops seemingly out of thin air.

They were the cheap kind—just sugary water frozen onto sticks—but in this sweltering heat, they appeared like precious gems. “Tyler, you’re a lifesaver!” Denton exclaimed, lunging forward to snatch one eagerly.

Caroline grabbed another, feeling the coolness seep into her fingers, and then pulled out a few frozen ice packs from her spatial storage, hoping they would help ease the discomfort.

As they munched on their ice pops, the three of them pressed the cold packs to their skin, a brief moment of relief amid the heat. They made their way downstairs, mounted their rides, and began the trek back to the shelter, their spirits slightly lifted by the small treat.

—

Unbeknownst to them, back at the shelter, a storm of complaints was brewing.

The oppressive temperature had been rising steadily for days, and tensions were mounting.

The military had sprung into action, dismantling stoves, installing mesh windows to allow for some airflow, and setting up generators along with enormous fans in the hallways.