Zhou Chenghai stood in the kitchen doorway doing math he didn't want to finish.
The refrigerator was half-empty and the cabinets showed visible gaps where most of the canned goods had been. The bread was down to two loaves. The rice that started at twenty kilograms when the survivors arrived, was now closer to twelve.
The numbers weren't good.
At the current rate of consumption—accounting for twenty-three survivors plus the five of them—the visible food stores would last maybe three days. Four if they really stretched it. Only one or two if the consumption accelerated.
And it was accelerating.
He'd watched it happen over the past six hours. The survivors weren't rationing. They were eating like the supplies were infinite, like there was a grocery store down the street they could visit tomorrow.
