In fact, Linya had woken up the moment his neck was gripped.
After all, anyone who had survived until now in the apocalypse was no stranger to danger. Even when he was saved, he wouldn’t let his guard down; basic vigilance had become an instinctual reaction ingrained in him.
If it had been the early years of the apocalypse, when zombies were still prevalent, Linya would have likely died at someone’s hands before receiving help.
He had no weapons on him, yet he could find weapons anywhere.
This was a lesson learned through bloodshed and experience.
“Always be vigilant against kindness, regard betrayal from blood as commonplace,” he murmured softly, furrowing his brow as he gradually drifted back into sleep.
123 was perched above him, clearly hearing his murmurs, and when Linya returned, it mimicked him perfectly, even nailing the tone just right.
[Host, is he sick?] 123 asked, not in a sarcastic tone, but genuinely curious.
Linya’s footsteps grew slightly heavier as he bent down to enter the ruins where he was temporarily sheltering. After seeing the young man who appeared to be awake but still breathing steadily with his eyes closed, he carefully lay down in another corner and calmly closed his eyes.
[Hmm.] He finally answered 123’s question.
It could indeed be termed an illness.
An illness known as apocalypse syndrome.
This affliction arose because many people experienced the deaths of those close to them for an extended period after the world fell apart. Some fragile individuals couldn’t withstand the emotional toll and fell into depression, while others even resorted to suicide.
After spending a long time in the dark depths where sunlight never reached, combined with limited electricity at the base, the majority of their time was spent in darkness, leading to oppressive mental states.
Hence, it could be said that most people who had survived until now harbored mental issues.
Some became extremely indifferent; others maintained an appearance of normalcy, even becoming more lively than before; some turned bitter and vicious, while others became taciturn.
Essentially, everyone had lost family and friends, and with daily hunger and inadequate clothing, they faced darkness every day.
To say they were mentally healthy—even Linya, who lacked the original owner’s memories, wouldn’t believe that, let alone someone who had lived through those experiences.
[Unless the apocalypse ends, recovery is impossible.] Linya said flatly, rolling over to turn his back to 123, signaling his defenseless attitude.
As the two fell into a shared silence, 123 ceased speaking and withdrew from its mimicking state.
……
Approximately 100 kilometers from the base—
The countdown in the upper left corner gradually shifted to 1 day, 23 hours, 38 minutes, and 29 seconds.
They had nearly two days left.
On their journey, they discovered a damaged desert vehicle. The tires around it had large punctures, seemingly done intentionally. The inside of the vehicle was intact; the windows were specially made and showed no signs of damage.
It was also empty inside, except for some traces of sand near the seats.
However, they both assumed the sand must have been accidentally blown in by the wind or brought in on their shoes and didn’t pay it much mind.
“I haven’t noticed anything unusual nearby; the person must have left on their own.” Gu Ming looked at the desert vehicle, which was the same color as his protective suit, his brow slightly furrowed. “Did they puncture their own tires? But that shouldn’t be possible; only those with military access could operate such vehicles. Why would they damage them?”
Linya crouched down and examined the torn marks on the tire, unsure as he spoke, “Doesn’t this look like it was clamped with something…”
“It does look like that,” Gu Ming also squatted down slightly, observing the other side of the tire, his expression becoming serious. “Strangely… it seems like these edges were cut with a serrated tool.”
The sand beneath them sunk a bit, and Linya recalled something. Looking at the sand on the ground, he suddenly asked, “What do you think was most abundant in the desert before?”
“Sand…” Gu Ming looked at him, perplexed.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“The desert must have been once teeming with various insects and animals.” Linya used an example, “For instance, the famous rattlesnake, and scorpions.”
“Speaking of scorpions’ pincers…”
“Wait! Wait!” Gu Ming nearly jumped off the ground, panic etched across his face. “Don’t mention those!”
“Those creatures went extinct a long time ago!”
Linya felt somewhat speechless, “I was just speculating.”
“Speculation isn’t good enough! Do you know how terrifying those creatures were?! A significant portion of humanity perished because of those insects.” Gu Ming waved his hands, his face revealing lingering fear. He looked serious. “Even with the zombie virus, we managed to survive. But had those unpredictable insects and animals adapted to this world, we humans would have ceased to exist a long time ago.”
“So please don’t scare me!”
“I’m not trying to scare you, just making a reasonable guess. What if insects have adapted?” Linya pointed out. “After all, even plants have mutated, and they seem to be thriving.”
“If that’s the case…” Gu Ming’s face turned serene as he continued, “Then we might as well give up on returning to the base.”
“Because if we go back, we can’t escape death anyway, so it’s better to die without suffering.”
“You’re right.” Linya shrugged and stood up, gazing at the boundless yellow sand ahead, taking a step forward. “Since no one is here, we need not concern ourselves. Let’s keep moving.”
“Time is running short,” he murmured.
Gu Ming, trailing behind, couldn’t hear him clearly. He pulled up the zipper of his protective suit and looked up in confusion, “What did you say?”
“It’s nothing…”
After walking more than 30 kilometers, with about 70 kilometers left to the base, the time in the upper left corner had dwindled to around 1 day and 15 hours.
They found fresh fragments of clothing in a ruin. The gray-black fabric was soaked with blood, half buried in the sand, the rest snagged on the rebar of a cement slab.