Apocalyptic Reincarnation: Start with a 30-million Bonus

November 30th, 6:30 PM.

Outside Safe City.

A truck roared as it headed towards the gates of Safe City.

The gates of Safe City were fortified with a series of spiked wooden barriers, all pointing outwards.

Behind these barbed barriers stood another gate, with many layers of such defenses stretching from the far to the near, leaving only a gap in the middle.

Such arrangements were designed to prevent Zombie assaults, allowing the personnel guarding the gates plenty of time to retreat behind them.

At the entrance to Safe City, Mr. Wang stopped the vehicle and then got out.

The duty captain in charge gave Mr. Wang a glance, finding him somewhat unfamiliar.

”First time here?”

”Captain Tao, sir, this is a little token of my appreciation.” Mr. Wang pulled out two unopened packs of cigarettes from inside his coat and stuffed them into the hands of the man in front of him.

Captain Tao raised an eyebrow. He was certain he had never seen this man before, yet now he knew his name.

”How do you know me?”

”Hey, what are you saying? Everyone outside knows about Captain Tao. They all say you take good care of the lads here, and many rely on you to get in...”

Mr. Wang was generous with his flattering words, bending and flexing as needed; a former boss himself, he now humbly played the part of a small fish without a hint of awkwardness.

His face beamed with a bright smile, which made it hard for others to dislike him.

Everyone loves to be praised, especially the small-time bosses manning the gate.

To put it bluntly, this is the head of a watchdog – a very enviable position, greased with plenty of perks. He was stationed here because of connections; otherwise, it wouldn’t be his turn.

But at the end of the day, he was just a gatekeeper.

Now, hearing Mr. Wang’s praise scratched an itch in his soul.

”What’s your name?” Captain Tao asked, standing a bit taller under Mr. Wang’s flattery, with a hint of swagger in his tone.

”Just call me Xiao Wang,” Mr. Wang replied, maintaining a slight bow, and now looking up to answer.

”Xiao Wang, eh? Hm... I think you’re quite agreeable, but as you know, Safe City has its rules. So you still need to pay the dues as the rules state.”

”I understand, I understand.”

Seeing Xiao Wang so compliant, Captain Tao said with satisfaction, ”I like obedient folks like you, okay.”

He then turned to two individuals beside him and said, ”Charge this man only half the amount of materials.”

”Got it, Captain Tao.”

”Okay.”

...

The back of the truck was opened, and the personnel collecting materials were shocked to see half a truck’s load of supplies.

This was the most anyone had brought in days.

Captain Tao had already given his word to take only half, so they dared not be too greedy. At most, they would take three-fifths, and this ratio was already extremely generous. Any more would be unacceptable.

Taking too much would exceed what Survivors could bear, and there would be no Survivors willing to come afterward—it would be like killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Several people started unloading the materials from the truck: boxes of food and some precious, unbroken bars of cigarettes—hard currency in these apocalyptic times.

After a while, the materials were sorted. Mr. Wang went back to check on the truck and saw that about half was taken. He thanked Captain Tao then drove away from the gate.

This Safe City was rather peculiar; entering the city did not involve a body check, whether you were new or had always lived inside. As long as you contributed food or materials, you could enter.

But once inside, the city only offered protection, ensuring you wouldn’t be robbed or harmed by either people or Zombies.

Everything else was up to you; they wouldn’t distribute materials, and if you starved, no one would care.

Safe City was like an organization charging protection fees—pay a certain amount, and your safety was ensured. Only, the fee wasn’t money but food!

It had been a year since the apocalypse began. Many pre-apocalyptic supplies were all but exhausted, with Survivors scavenging buildings from before the end-times like locusts sweeping through the fields.

After the previous year’s blistering heat and drought, much of the stored food had spoiled and gone rotten before anyone could find it.

Now, aside from Zombies, the food issue had become the biggest survival challenge for the Survivors.

Mr. Wang drove his vehicle, holding a slip of paper handed to him by Captain Tao, marked C-zone, Building 19, 2nd floor, along with a set of keys.

Passing through an area bathed in light, the zone appeared quite luxurious. However, as he drove farther, the lights grew scarce, and by the time he reached C-zone, there was hardly any light at all.

Looking behind him, it seemed there were a few more zones back there.

He parked the car on the side of the road and got out.

Bang!

Mr. Wang closed the car door, looking around. The place felt pretty cold.

Pulling his clothes tighter around him, he felt weariness creeping in. He hadn’t slept well in days and was exceedingly tired now.

His flashlight illuminated the wall.

Building 19.

Just as he was about to head upstairs, a flicker of light flashed from the right, and four or five silhouettes approached.

Mr. Wang tensed—could these be troublemakers? Wasn’t it said that once you paid the protection fee at the gate, you would be protected after entering?

While he guessed, the group approached, the middle-aged man at the forefront shone his flashlight onto Mr. Wang’s face, and a magnetic, low voice came through:

”New here?”

Blinded by the flashlight, Mr. Wang still noted the tone of the voice did not seem hostile, so he replied, ”Hmm, just arrived.”

”We’re the Patrol Team, maintaining internal security... Here, take this whistle. If you run into trouble, you can call us anytime,” the middle-aged man tossed over a small whistle.

Mr. Wang quickly caught it; a plastic green little whistle, a common item.

But weren’t they afraid of the whistle attracting Zombies?

Never mind, he thought. Having something like that meant that, perhaps, the internal security really was good.

”Alright, thanks.”

”We’re off.”

Mr. Wang watched them leave into the dark night, giving him a unique feeling.

Suddenly, he understood why there were always people trying to get in—though Safe City demanded steep protection fees, it seemed they indeed earnestly provided protection.

Shaking his head, he pushed aside further thoughts and began moving his belongings upstairs.