Chapter Two: The Doomsday Distress Call

The next day, when the sky brightened, it was already 1:00 p.m. The darkness had faded without a sunrise; the sky was clear, the sun leaning slightly westward. Dawn came an hour later than the previous day. According to daylight saving time in Jiang City, if the sun set around 6:45 p.m., in about five days, dawn would cease to appear here altogether.

Inside the apartment, Lin Xian sheathed his short knife into his backpack, then leapt from the balcony into the neighboring room. Following a predetermined route, he circled downward to enter a subway tunnel through an underground civil defense passage. This was originally a maintenance section of University City Station, now completely paralyzed since the apocalypse erupted.

All zombies on the platform had been eliminated by Lin Xian, making this his train maintenance zone. Venturing deeper into the tunnel, he found an aged, rust-streaked railway where a massive Whale 03E heavy gas turbine locomotive was parked.

This 200-ton steel colossus was Lin Xian’s secret weapon for escaping the endless night.

Click.

He switched on a flashlight, illuminating the black, hollow tunnel with a beam of white light. Gazing at the immense machine before him, a surge of anxiety welled in his heart.

This masterpiece, forged thirty years ago through a collaboration between Alstom Transport and the Northern Dragon Rail Group, was based on Alstom’s “Prima” locomotive technology platform. It was a carefully engineered high-power, ten-cylinder gas turbine locomotive designed for mainline freight service.

The locomotive stretched over 36 meters in length and 3.2 meters in width, its majestic frame concealing staggering power. With a traction output of 18,500 horsepower—equivalent to dozens of supercars combined—it could haul tens of thousands of tons of heavy freight.

This was the near-perfect platform for Lin Xian’s mechanical ability, and this discovery inspired his boundless dream of the Infinite Express.

“Check the drive shafts, brake pads, power turbines…”

Lin Xian’s Mechanical Heart talent comprised three basic skills: mechanical scanning, repair, and operation. Simply put, any machine he touched, once he understood its principles, could be directly controlled, repaired, and holographic blueprints could be generated via scanning. These passive skills were fixed and could not be upgraded.

The Whale 03E required fuel for propulsion and electricity for auxiliary power. Fuel was the scarcest resource in this apocalypse, yet Lin Xian’s Mechanical Heart could directly drive the locomotive through his own energy without needing fuel — an incredible advantage.

However, his output power was limited by his physical stamina. At his current endurance, the driving distance remained constrained. But with his human battery body, supplemented by devouring machinery and gathering resources along the way, if he could later acquire a generator or even a small nuclear power unit, the energy problem would be solved without worry.

Besides powering the locomotive, Lin Xian had outfitted three attached carriages as living quarters for storing supplies and habitation, all converted from former passenger cars.

At the last carriage, he placed his hand on the side. Activating the Mechanical Heart, a specially designed hydraulic lift lowered, revealing a fourth carriage housing a motorcycle intended for gathering resources after parking.

Climbing aboard, he lifted a welding machine. Beside the track lay a pile of steel materials—rolled steel plates, high-hardness tungsten steel, and high-manganese steel—originally used for armored vehicles and tank plating, found in a special steel warehouse in Jiang City, perfect for constructing his steel fortress.

Buzz—

The holographic display flickered before his eyes, showing several armor blueprints he had drawn. There were also firearm blueprints, such as a Glock 23 .40 caliber pistol, which he had seized in a skirmish with raiders and converted into a blueprint using Mechanical Scanning.

But the problem was—

“120 grams of high-alloy chromium-molybdenum steel, 300 grams of base steel, 195 grams of plastic…”

Lin Xian grimaced, his head aching.

Compared to these standard materials post-scan, it was easier at this moment to rely on his mechanical fabrication skills and available raw materials to DIY assemble.

Click, click, clang!

A glint sparked in Lin Xian’s eyes as the steel floated, rapidly shaped and fused under immense pressure. Within ten minutes, a 1.5 by 0.9-meter composite armor plate appeared before him.

Manufacturing and assembly demanded intense concentration, and being alone, Lin Xian had to make the most of daylight hours for train maintenance.

Hours passed. Several sets of ‘outer windows’ with grates and double-layer composite armor were finally assembled. He then rolled out a mobile small crane from the rear carriage, moving the heavy armor plates to the carriage edges and welding them in place.

The Whale 03E’s heavy gas turbine locomotive cabin connected to all the carriages behind, each equipped with isolation gates.

Lin Xian named the entire train the Infinite. Carriage No. 1 was converted into a simple living area, storing most of his supplies. Carriage No. 2 remained empty for now, intended for cultivating vegetables and green plants—ideally a water-oxygen recycling plant cultivation zone, though he knew nothing of that. Carriage No. 3 held tools, the motorcycle, crane, welding machine, and would later store materials.

As he enthusiastically built his mobile fortress, his phone suddenly vibrated.

Startled, Lin Xian froze. Most satellites were lost, and satellite calls had become rare. He kept his phone mainly for data storage, maps, and emergencies. He had never expected a call to come through.

Answering, a somewhat nervous female voice came through.

“Lin Xian, are you still in Jiang City? I… I want to join your rail train plan.”

The caller was Chen Sixuan, Lin’s university professor. In the days after the apocalypse began, she was the only contact remaining in his address book.

Chen Sixuan, twenty-seven, was like a flower—single, no boyfriend—in Jiang City’s culture of early marriage and childbirth, a rare specimen before the end times.

He remembered this foreign language professor as tall and elegant, born into an intellectual family, a typical urban beauty admired by all in the academy.

At first, Lin Xian had mentioned the train plan to her, but she rejected it. He hadn’t revealed his abilities then, making the plan sound unbelievable. Chen Sixuan still clung to naive hopes of rescue teams coming to save her.

But after Jiang City’s first endless night, countless died in despair. The dark devoured survivors' last shreds of sanity. Lin Xian witnessed brutal collapses of social order. For women in this world, if not gifted with powers, their value in survival groups was often less than a barrel of gasoline.

He assumed Chen Sixuan had either left with a group or perished. Receiving her call now was a surprise. If she hadn’t escaped, how had she survived so long?

In an apartment somewhere, the door locked tight, curtains drawn, Chen Sixuan sat curled in a corner of the sofa, hair disheveled and clad in casual clothes, her expression tense. She watched the last flicker of her phone’s battery. Her once full lips were pale, trembling.

Two months of the darkest times of her life—no food, endless nights.

Every night she was awakened by terrifying sounds in the darkness, mind foggy, body thinner.

At first, she waited for official rescue. Some former admirers even delivered supplies to her door. But when she realized the world order had collapsed and endless night had come, she understood she was trapped.

So she began to seek help.

But after the endless night, most of Jiang City seemed to vanish. Survivors fled one after another. Those willing to accept her demanded she send nude photos first, to assess her value.

Only then did she realize she was no longer the beloved university teacher, nor the object of flirtation among wealthy young men, but a burden. In this apocalypse, even some beauty required her to offer herself to be chosen.

Just as Chen Sixuan neared despair, she suddenly thought of Lin Xian.

All her power banks were dead; her phone was nearly out.

At this moment, no matter how crazy the plan, if the call connected, there was hope.

“Professor Chen, are you alright?”

Lin Xian’s calm and steady voice eased her nerves.

“Lin, I… I’m still alive. Are you… still in Jiang City?”

Chen bit her finger nervously.

After a long silence, Lin’s voice came again.

“Yes.”

Chen shivered, releasing a long-held breath. Hope flickered in her eyes as she hurriedly said,

“Where are you? Can you come get me...”

She immediately regretted the words.

That sounded absurd. A few days ago, she’d contacted a group fleeing east and instinctively said the same. They had mocked her, implying it was absurd to still think of herself as a princess.

So she quickly corrected herself, “No, no... I mean, where are you? Can I come to you?”

To survive, she had to take the risk. Otherwise, once the phone died, only two options remained: stay locked in the apartment to die, or wander out to be torn apart by zombies.

“Professor Chen,” Lin’s voice asked, “Do you have supplies? Or have you awakened any abilities?”

Chen’s heart instantly sank.

She looked around the empty apartment, lips trembling, voice choking with tears, “No… I don’t.”

“If… if you want to join me…”

Chen never imagined she’d one day plead like this to a student.

Before she could finish, Lin interrupted, “Sorry, Professor Chen, my supplies are limited. To join my plan, you must have corresponding value. Sexual favors mean nothing to me.”

Since no one believed in his train plan, he would build the escape from the endless night himself. He did this not out of charity.

Lin’s voice was steady, bringing great security yet endless despair to Chen.

“Then… fine.”

“Good luck, Professor Chen.” Lin’s expression was indifferent as he prepared to hang up.

Chen shivered all over. Just as Lin was about to disconnect, she suddenly went mad, grabbing the phone and shouting,

“Wait!”

Eyes wide, chest heaving, she cried out,

“The Ring Star Rail started in 2039, originating from Dragon Nation, covering 126 countries, 34 regions, spanning nine continents and four oceans, including the thirteen current Star Abyss annihilation zones. The total rail length exceeds 320,000 kilometers. My father was once a first-class maintenance engineer for the Ring Star Rail. I know all 1,266 stops and 625 maintenance sidings…”

“Also, I’m fluent in multiple languages, I can be your translator, I eat little and know some cooking. Just… just take me with you! I’ll agree to whatever you want!”

She shouted the last part with all her remaining strength.

Long silence answered her.

Chen’s body tensed, trembling, fingernails digging into her thighs till they bled.

“I’ll come to get you. Give me your location.”

Six simple words made Chen’s head spin. Coming to her senses, she hurriedly said,

“I’m at Building 3, Unit 901, Yushui Garden, Jiangzhou Road!”

Beep—

Before she could repeat the address, the phone went dead.

She pressed the buttons anxiously, no response. Unsure if Lin truly heard her, she bit her lip hard.

“Ah!”

She screamed wildly and smashed the phone against the wall, shattering it.

“He heard me. He must have…”

At that moment, Chen could only comfort herself. To ease her despair, she rose and began searching through all books related to the Ring Star Rail.

Meanwhile, Lin Xian sighed deeply, staring at the now-ended call.

Once, he admired and respected Professor Chen immensely. Now, hearing her plead almost desperately, even offering sexual favors, this hellish apocalypse truly turned people into demons.

Her words had moved him. The Ring Star Rail encircled Earth, filled with unknowns. Having someone familiar with the route was far better than relying on a dead map without navigation. Moreover, maps rarely mark maintenance sidings or special connecting tracks.

Besides, Chen was a familiar person. In the apocalypse, people naturally sought alliances, and familiarity bred trust.

Putting away the phone, Lin glanced at the time and immediately resumed welding.

Today’s daylight was nearly gone; train preparation could not be delayed.

Beep, beep—

At 6:00 p.m., forty-five minutes before dark, Lin wiped sweat from his brow. Looking at the tank-thick armored windows on both sides of the third carriage, his heart swelled with pride.

“Next up: generator, heating system, water purifier, refrigerator, a smart monitoring system…”

“And armed defense, automatic firepower, radar system…”

“Oh, and the living quarters need a big bed, a bathtub, maybe an entertainment area, a gaming zone. I have to store tens of thousands of movies, TV shows, and games, right?”

Lin’s eyes shone brighter and brighter.

In this apocalypse, life was starting to look hopeful once again.