Armed Train in the Apocalypse

Northwest of Zhijin, a gas station by some country road.

Under a huge bright-red signboard, a car lay overturned by the roadside, its body swaying slightly with the gusts of wind and sand. A man covered in blood crawled out of the cabin, clutching a communicator stamped with a half-shattered ”Deep Blue Twin Towers” emblem.

After confirming there was no one around, he clawed his way out on hands and feet, not caring at all that his elbows were being scraped bloody by the rough concrete and grit.

”So you’re here.”

A slightly hoarse female voice suddenly sounded from behind him.

A wave of insane killing intent instantly engulfed him.

The man reacted like he’d heard a call from hell. Terror and despair crawled over his eyes as he turned his head and saw an almost completely naked figure squatting on the roof of the car. She had so little fabric on her body it couldn’t even be called clothing—forget protection, it didn’t even offer the most basic warmth.

What drew the eye even more was the over-two-meter-long giant battle axe in the woman’s hand. Thick blood slid down the haft, soaking her short hair, tracing past those excited, deranged eyes.

”Don’t kill me, I swear I won’t report back to HQ!”

The man shouted in panic.

Hearing his words, the madness in the woman’s eyes only intensified. With a lilting laugh she sprang into the air, bringing the giant axe down right on his head.

With a bang, the man’s body, along with the hard concrete ground, was split clean in two.

Barefoot, the woman stepped around in the sticky mess of entrails for a while, until her calves were stained scarlet, then finally lost interest and sauntered toward a nearby vehicle.

She drove the axe into the ground, grabbed the car’s door frame with one hand. The hard double-laminated glass shattered like paper under those slender fingers, and with a clatter the vehicle was hauled back upright.

The woman rummaged around in the car for a bit, stuffing the few kilos of emergency rations straight into her stomach. The scattered Pan-energy Crystals she tossed into her mouth as well, crunching them like candy beans, her petite mouth working like a pulverizer, grinding down anything that could replenish energy.

Soon, a notebook caught her attention. It contained some information recorded by a data clerk, most of it related to her.

But one entry took up a whole long section.

It looked like a list. The random assortment of items didn’t interest her at all. She was just about to toss it aside when the words ”Life Force Growth Fruit” made her eyes twitch.

Her hand flashed back faster than the falling notebook, snatching it out of the air.

”Armed train?”

”Auction?”

”Now that’s fun.”

After confirming what was written, the woman let out a string of wild, unrestrained laughter. Her two full, pale, bare legs, which were hanging out of the car, kicked and swung along with it, banging the door so hard it rattled.

Two zombies were drawn over by the noise. They didn’t understand what that round, wriggling creature on the car window was, but the sweet scent was already stirring their hunting instincts. Silent as shadows, they pounced.

Two dull thuds later, the woman was bouncing eastward with the giant axe slung over her shoulder.

As for the two pathetic ordinary zombies, their heads were already embedded in the car body.

...

Western Zhijin, Drum Stone Bar.

The bar in Drum Stone Village had been abandoned for over twenty years, yet somehow it was lively again. People stayed up all night inside, exhausting their energy and fear. The bar, with its walls stuffed full of soundproofing foam, was not only safe, but stiflingly hot.

Several stark-naked dancers on the stage flaunted their sultry steps, beads of sweat rolling down their young bodies. The air was thick with hormones.

A small convoy of a dozen or so people was hollering at the door, celebrating today’s haul. With alcohol splashing, a few of them started gambling right in the middle of the bar, quickly drawing in a pack of degenerates. The winners, arms around the hostesses, rolled onto the sofas at the side; the losers, eyes bloodshot, shouted their unwillingness. The entire bar was filled with pounding music and roaring voices, punctuated by the occasional moan from a woman.

A woman in a leather skirt with her smooth, flat belly exposed weaved through the crowd. She didn’t care at all that the men kept tugging her tube top—barely covering her soft chest—askew. Adjusting the straps with one hand, she traded jokes and curses with familiar clientele. As the owner of Drum Stone Bar, this was her personal way of reeling in customers.

Out of respect for her bold generosity, the men were happy to show off their own.

She could accurately remember every paying customer and give each of them attention proportional to their generosity. That was called emotional value, and it was way more high-end than just selling flesh.

But most of her attention tonight was on the man in the corner.

The man sat in the darkest part of the bar, wearing a worn-out leather jacket that didn’t reflect a bit of light. His stubble made him look unkempt but not greasy. On his right sat a short spear like something out of a Scavenger’s kit, and a steel cylinder of unknown use. He radiated a don’t-mess-with-me aura, so no one went over to bother him.

But she knew just how handsome the face was under that mop of messy hair.

Grabbing two bottles of beer, the boss walked toward the man in the corner.

As the beers thudded heavily onto the table, before Zhong You could say a word, the woman had already slid suggestively into his lap.

Feeling that full, soft body molding against him, even with his head full of worries he almost lost control.

A flash of icy coldness crossed his eyes as he forced down the surge of lust.

Everything in the bar cost money, including the women. Everything had a clear price tag.

And he didn’t have any spare supplies on him to buy anything other than beer.

”What are you doing?”

Now that she was close, the woman was stunned all over again by how handsome Zhong You was. His skin was even more delicate than hers, and the beard didn’t diminish his looks—it added a touch of mature charm instead.