Ruerke City, as one of the major ports on the East Coast, boasted a vast trade network that radiated roads in all directions.
As a first-tier metropolis, its buildings were renowned for their sturdiness, once attracting crowds from every corner.
Even after the Post-Apocalypse descended, the city’s appearance hadn’t completely collapsed.
However, the once bustling and beautiful scenery was now crammed with all sorts of abandoned vehicles, and those Zombies shuttled through the sea of cars, crawling atop and beneath them, drifting silently through every traffic hub, occupying this paralyzed city without a sound.
I wasn’t sure whether the national apparatus had ceased to function, but deep down, I always felt that, since this was the real world, it was hardly realistic that a mere horde of the walking dead could destroy a Superpower Nation.
The sea breeze carried a hint of chill, making me shiver.
I looked around, planning a route in my mind.
I really didn’t know how Lin Mo managed to run so far to reach my home, but luckily, with all these vehicles serving as obstacles, the slow-moving corpses couldn’t really pose much threat to me.
I looked up at my own villa.
The glass reflected the sunlight, making it impossible to see inside, but Lin Mo was probably watching me.
He must know that Zombies would find it hard to catch me amidst such a complex maze of cars.
And the murderous intent he had shown me before only made me more certain that he had another agenda.
First of all, he did want to kill me—there was no doubt about that.
Even though things had taken a turn, I was more inclined to think he had let me go temporarily because he hadn’t achieved some goal yet.
Maybe he wanted to use me to get something, or maybe he just wanted to experience the thrill of the hunt—but I didn’t think it was the latter.
But what could I possibly offer him?
No, I should change my perspective.
Where will I go next?
What am I going to do?
For a moment, I really couldn’t think of anything.
All I could do was get out of his line of sight first, then check if he’d left any trackers on me.
I took one last glance at the villa gleaming coldly in the sunlight, then turned resolutely, moving along the natural barrier formed by the abandoned cars.
I moved as lightly as possible, using car doors and cabins as cover.
Every step landed in a shadow or blind spot, and I watched carefully for Zombies that might be lurking at corners or in blind spots.
After crossing several rows of paralyzed steel, I felt that spine-tingling gaze lessen somewhat.
In a triangle-shaped area formed by a toppled truck and an SUV, I stopped for a moment—this spot was relatively hidden.
Leaning against the icy-cold car door, I began to check myself quickly and carefully.
First, my pockets, then my collar, cuffs, pant legs—anywhere a tracking device could have been planted.
My fingers meticulously traced every seam, not overlooking any unusual bump.
Where could it be?
As I searched, I thought: if his goal isn’t me, but the place I’m headed, then he has to make sure I get there.
In that case, a tracker would be the most direct and effective way.
Although I really didn’t want to believe it—a mentally ill person who could hardly take care of himself had actually forced me to this extent.
Yet, after a thorough inspection, I found nothing.
Nothing in my clothes, nothing in my shoes.
This only made my heart sink further.
Either he used a more concealed method that I hadn’t thought of, or my assumptions were off track.
“I’d better change all my clothes to be safe,” I thought, starting to strip off my pajamas and underwear.
I didn’t dare climb into the truck cabin, but luckily, among the scattered cargo was a pile of clothes.
I picked out the right size and style, changed my whole outfit, then took the old clothes and threw them far from the truck, scattering them in different places instead of tossing them together.
After tossing the last piece of clothing behind a distant broken wall, I finally felt a bit of security.
Now the question was, where should I go?
I crouched in the shadow of a scrapped taxi, reassessing this city that was both familiar and strange.
The streets were the same ones I’d driven every day.
The high-rises still stood tall as ever, but now, they were like gigantic tombstones, memorializing a civilization that had already died.
From afar, I could hear the faint roar of the waves, mixed with a sinister scraping sound.
I had to get moving, and find a truly safe place to spend the night.
Supplies—that was my first clear thought.
Water, food, medicine, and a decent weapon.
My hands were empty, and my villa clearly wouldn’t have any of those survival essentials, not to mention I needed to avoid him as well.
A location surfaced in my memory: ‘the Hansen Supermarket three blocks away.’
It was a large store, with sturdy rolling shutters and a few high windows—easy to defend, hard to attack.
Such places don’t open at night.
If I wasn’t mistaken, when the Post-Apocalypse hit, it was closed.
Maybe it had already been looted, but perhaps… some things were left behind.
Having settled on a destination, I set out again.
This time, I was even more cautious.
The cover offered by the cars wasn’t foolproof—inside and underneath those still vehicles could easily be hiding deadly threats.
I kept in mind my second principle: always leave an out—never enter any enclosed space lightly, never cause trouble for the Zombies inside, never linger too long in open spaces, and never attract their attention.
I used bus stops, fallen billboards, and congested vehicles as cover, zigzagging my way forward.
After each stretch, I stopped to observe and listen.
Aside from the wind and the distant, faint growls, the city was deathly silent.
This kind of silence was more terrifying than any noise.
As I crossed the second intersection, a faint scraping sound made me freeze.
The sound came from a toppled school bus up ahead on the right.
I crouched down slowly, holding my breath, eyes locked on the source.
A few seconds later, a figure clumsily crawled out of the school bus’s shattered rear window.
Its suit was already tattered, half its face missing, exposing white bone.
It turned around in confusion a few times, then dragged a twisted leg and slowly moved off in another direction.
I waited patiently, only moving on once it disappeared behind a garbage truck.
My back was already drenched in cold sweat.
This was only the beginning, I told myself.
In this new world, every slip could be the last.
The outline of Hansen Supermarket finally appeared at the end of my line of sight, its huge sign crooked and hanging, like a black silhouette.
Luck was on my side; there were fewer Zombies on the street than I’d expected.
Most people must have been home at night, so when they turned, they did so indoors.
That meant, if possible, stay out of the buildings—I firmly added this to my second principle.
I crouched behind a rusted postal van, watching the entrance of Hansen Supermarket from afar.
The giant rolling shutter was tightly closed, just as I’d expected, but there should be a staff entrance for early shift workers.
Suppressing the urge to rush in, I started circling the supermarket’s perimeter, my eyes scanning every window, every vent.
The first-floor windows all had security bars, perfectly intact.
Some windows on the second floor were broken, but the height was a fatal obstacle.
My gaze finally landed at the back of the supermarket, where a sloped driveway led to the underground loading area.
At the end of the ramp, the heavy fireproof shutter was also tightly shut, but the ramp itself formed a relatively enclosed entry point.
If I could lock it from the inside, maybe it could become a defensive line.
I took a deep breath, gave up on the main entrance, and crept towards the loading area.
But when I arrived, I found the door open.
The little bit of luck I’d just felt was instantly extinguished.
It seemed someone had already visited, or maybe hadn’t even left yet.
‘Should I try killing and plundering?’ The thought surfaced unconsciously.
“Impossible, you can’t expect a cancer patient to fight someone, my dear Lu Dongnuan.” I shook my head.