Chapter Six: Encountering Humans

The final days of Xie Han’s life in the rebuilt civilization were spent in bed. When the time on his watch ticked down to zero, his vision went black as before, and in the next instant, he found himself once again in the apocalypse. The location was the exact spot where he had last teleported away, but the zombies that had been wandering nearby were long gone. Suddenly, a question occurred to him: how exactly was the teleportation location determined? Now, though, it was around five in the afternoon. The sun was beginning its slow descent, and this was hardly the right place or time to ask Zhou Ruomeng about it.

Raising his head, he glanced in all directions. The surrounding fields, abandoned for three years and seven months, were overgrown with weeds; there was not a single trace of rice to be found. Xie Han had no idea which region he was in, and he dared not return to the small town behind him. All he could do was continue along this road, hoping to find a safer place before night fell, somewhere to spend his first night in the apocalypse without danger.

There were many villages along the road, but Xie Han made sure to skirt them from afar. After all, with a global outbreak of the XR virus, these villages would certainly not be spared. Unlike the sparsely populated regions elsewhere, China was never short of people. According to the data in his watch, Xie Han knew that by the year 2050, the world’s nations had merged into a federal government; the old countries became administrative regions, and China’s region alone had an astonishing population of 2.1 billion—more than a quarter of the world’s total. Yet, only five years after the federation’s founding, the apocalypse struck, shattering the government overnight.

In these small villages, with dozens or even over a hundred households each, the population would be at least three hundred and up to two thousand—numbers Xie Han knew he could never handle alone. He now regretted not having thought to arm himself. He had access to plenty of information and understood that he was no longer the same person he was yesterday. The Matrix, while stimulating his genes, had also endowed him with instinctive proficiency in firearms and the operation of various vehicles. These abilities were imprinted so deeply in his mind that they felt entirely natural.

Xie Han walked along the road for about an hour and a half, bypassing three villages, before finally finding an open hillside. From this vantage point, he could see clearly for several hundred meters in every direction. The terrain would allow him to spot the movement of any zombies much more quickly. His eyesight was excellent; even though the sun had fully set, he could still make out the surrounding area. After carefully surveying the vicinity to ensure no zombies lurked nearby, he settled down beside a wind-blocking rock, choosing it as his shelter for the night.

Having enjoyed a hearty meal just after two o’clock, Xie Han felt no hunger, but he knew he still needed to prepare firewood. The longer he spent in the apocalypse, the more he realized how poorly he had planned. Bedding, fuel for cooking, and even a flashlight for illumination—these were all essentials he should have considered. But with only a single cubic meter of storage space, he shook his head—just one quilt would fill it to the brim. There was no hope of bringing much else.

There were plenty of dry branches on the hillside, and in just ten minutes he had gathered a large pile. He took out his lighter and, from his storage, fetched a pack of cigarettes. He tore it open, put one pack in his pocket, and returned the rest to storage before lighting up and enjoying a smoke. Xie Han was never much dependent on alcohol or tobacco, rarely indulging, but at times like this, with his nerves under pressure, a cigarette offered the best relief.

By the time he finished smoking, the darkness had deepened so that only a dozen meters away could still be faintly seen. Xie Han lit a small fire, then brought over three stones to set around it. He took a steel pot from his storage, intending to set it on the fire—only to realize with embarrassment that he hadn’t brought any water. From this hillside, the river below was at least three hundred meters away—far too far to fetch water now.

With no other choice, Xie Han took out a few cans of cola, muttering to himself, “Cola instant noodles? Ha, that’s a first.” He poured the cola into the pot and set it over the fire. Fortunately, he was no pampered young master—cooking was no challenge for him.

The cola wasn’t much, so in a few minutes it was already boiling. Xie Han took out two packets of instant noodles, tore them open, and dropped them in, adding the seasoning. Soon a fragrant aroma wafted up, laced with the sweetness of cola. He inhaled deeply, thinking the scent was surprisingly good, though he wondered how it would taste. Just as he was about to serve the noodles, he was embarrassed to find he hadn’t brought any bowl or chopsticks.

“Well, damn…” Xie Han muttered—would he have to eat straight from the pot? He glanced around, thinking, “Who cares? There’s no one here to laugh at me, after all. It’ll do.”

But before he could put this plan into action, he was interrupted. From behind him came the distant sound of an engine. Forgetting about the noodles, Xie Han stood and peered over the rock. In the distance, a pair of dim headlights appeared, moving slowly along the road he had just fled. The vehicle wasn’t moving fast, but in a few minutes, it pulled up at the foot of the hill and stopped.

The car door creaked open, and two figures leapt out—one man, one woman. They switched on flashlights and scanned the area, alert and wary.

Xie Han narrowed his eyes. It was a small minibus, its body mottled with rust, half the windshield shattered. The man was tall and powerfully built; the woman’s figure was long and striking, her tight coat accentuating her curves. Unfortunately, the light was too dim for Xie Han to make out her face, but judging by her silhouette, she was likely a beauty.

Both the man and woman carried guns—no exceptions. After searching the area for a dozen meters and confirming there were no zombies, the woman signaled the bus with her flashlight three times. The door opened again, and seven more people got out in succession.

Xie Han frowned. All seven were elderly, weak, or infirm; three old people, three children, and a man in his thirties with his thigh bound up. What surprised Xie Han even more was that they, too, seemed to have chosen this hillside for shelter and were now helping each other up toward his position.

He eyed the burning fire on the rock. If not for the stone blocking it—and the fact that the newcomers hadn’t noticed him—he would have been discovered already. Xie Han thought about extinguishing the fire, but hesitated. Judging by the way they held their guns, if they mistook him for a zombie in the darkness, they’d open fire without hesitation.

In the darkness, the fire was a glaring beacon, and the group soon spotted it. The burly man rushed ahead, gun raised, flashlight beam sweeping over, and shouted, “Who’s there?” His stance suggested that at the slightest sign of danger, he would shoot without hesitation. After all, countless experiences on the road had taught him that there was no room for carelessness in times like these.