Five heavy-duty trucks

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As I listened, each day felt like an eternity. I was waiting for a fleeting opportunity to carry out a plan I had long yearned for.

Old Wei said, “Some suspect that a certain experiment a hundred years ago caused a spatial distortion in the San Francisco region, which left us with vast tracts of new desert and made our journey much longer.”

I expressed confusion, then claimed I needed to step away for a moment.

Lamia said, “You’re very polite, but you don’t need our permission for that.”

I offered her a smile and rose to leave, but Lamia called out, “Could you return the meat roll in your pocket?”

She’d seen through my clever scheme—truly worthy of being my superior.

I asked, “How did the meat roll end up in my pocket?”

She replied, “I saw you take it from your bag and slip it into your pocket. You were quick—quicker than any thief I’ve ever seen.”

A thief?

I defended myself, “It’s a custom in our village—the leader of the scavengers must be able to spot and stop any theft among her people. If she succeeds, she’ll earn their eternal respect.”

In truth, there was no such custom, but I couldn’t let go of my paradise dream over a single meat roll. Some might think a roll is no great matter, but in the Age of Sorrow, people would kill for a handful of mud.

I was simply hungry, like a starving fish—one that would even turn on its own kind...

Lamia studied me with an inscrutable expression. I summoned all my willpower to suppress my anxiety, but my sweat betrayed me.

“I’m completely convinced now, ma’am,” I said.

She replied, “Then don’t bother giving it back. Eat it yourself.”

I was left bewildered, ashamed, and directionless. Tormented, I shoved the meat roll into my mouth—only to find it more delicious than anything I’d ever tasted.

Finishing it in two bites, I asked, “After all this, I still don’t know why you’re heading to Bayview.”

Lamia smiled, “Weren’t you going to relieve yourself?”

I thought she was being unreasonable—why quibble over such a trivial thing?

I told her I could wait.

Lamia explained, “For expansion, we need resources. For resources, we must expand. I can run a hundred kilometers in a day, but I can’t haul ore, water, or machinery a hundred kilometers back to the Black Casket on foot. We need a means of transport.”

I said, “I’ve seen plenty of parking lots. There are lots of cars nearby, too. They’re tangled up in vines, but maybe they still work.”

Lamia shook her head. “You’ve been underground too long—you don’t know the surface. Those cars run on petroleum, and as far as I know, all the known oil reserves have been contaminated. Using it would only wreck the engines. Besides, those cars are too light and flimsy for transport—especially with all the bandits and demons roaming the roads. Some of those demons... are the size of African elephants.”

I’d never seen such creatures.

Old Wei nodded. “She’s right. Two months ago, a group of rangers found a special vehicle in the Charon Garage at Bayview. We call it ‘Yune.’ It’s harder than a tank, tougher than a tank, ten times bigger than a tank. It can carry 320 tons of cargo, and it’s powered by a combination of nuclear and solar energy.”

Lamia added, “Which means it hardly ever needs refueling, and it’s virtually indestructible. We could refit it as a war machine—a moving fortress. Or as a cargo hauler—a ship of the land. It’s the Governor’s dream and humanity’s hope for revival. We’re lucky—it’s less than a hundred kilometers from the Black Casket.”

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I asked, “So why didn’t that ranger team drive it back to the Black Casket?”

Lamia replied, “Only someone with special training can operate it.” She pointed at Old Wei, who saluted in a peculiar military manner.

“And only Faga can crack the garage’s code and open the armored door.” I looked at Faga—she remained utterly indifferent to everything.

“So, the rangers never actually saw Yune?” I questioned. After all, it had been sealed away for a century—who knew if it would still function?

Lamia answered, “They saw it through external monitors and found its records. That was enough. The Governor decided we had to investigate. There were twenty of us, escorting Faga and Old Wei, but a storm hit, and we were separated from the others.”

She couldn’t hide the sadness in her eyes. I suspected she’d lost loved ones, but she was strong—covering her momentary weakness as best she could.

I’d witnessed many storms in the Age of Sorrow, yet I never grew fully accustomed to them. Those storms seldom brought rain—rain was a rare blessing. More often, the storms were unpredictable. Some would magnetize the human body and bury people beneath iron and stone; some teemed with locusts that devoured a person to the bone in an instant; others left people wandering for miles as if sleepwalking. Worst of all, some brought demons who slaughtered anyone they encountered.

Once lost to the storm, the missing rarely survived.

Lamia continued, “According to my colleagues, Yune’s location should be safe. Any bandit scum camped outside have been cleared out.”

“But they never got inside the garage—who knows what’s in there?” I pointed out.

Old Wei shrugged. “Who knows? After all, the Black Casket held some incredible surprises too.”

“Like what?” I asked.

He nodded at Faga, laughing. “We found this little princess in one of the labs. Who’s to say there isn’t something similar in that garage?”

Lamia said, “That garage survived the Cataclysm nearly intact.”

Old Wei concluded, “As long as we don’t get caught in another storm, we’ll meet up with the rangers guarding Yune, drive it back to the Black Casket, and our mission will be a resounding success. We’ll be promoted and well rewarded.”

Promotions and rewards—music to my ears. I felt optimistic about the future.

That night, I took first watch, Lamia the second. I realized she was guarding her meat rolls from me—this disappointed me. Friends should trust each other, not treat one another like thieves. She shouldn’t have set finger-traps in her pack, either—I nearly lost a finger.

In the morning, Lamia scolded, “Old habits die hard.”

I walked ahead, head bowed, patiently explaining that this was a time-honored tradition among Waterless Village scavengers.

She pointed to a bloodstained sandwich. “How am I supposed to eat this?”

I told her my blood was clean—drinkable, even.

Lamia whispered, “I’m not one of those Black Casket nobles. I don’t drink blood.”

“What?” I asked.

Lamia shook her head. “Forget it. Pretend you didn’t hear.” Thus, the sandwich became mine.

The architecture of Bayview was monotonous—huge warehouse-like buildings with silver-white walls overgrown with vines and trees. The greenery lent vitality to the landscape, a sense that life was everywhere.

But I knew how fearsome life could become.

In a way, it was the fish that saved me.

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Faga pointed up at the massive Charon logo and announced our arrival. Not that she needed to—we all saw it.

Lamia said, “Charon was once a world-class auto plant, later taken over by the military.”

We arrived by nightfall. The garage looked like a sealed military base—utterly imposing. There was a perimeter wall, a barred iron gate, but the gate had already been broken.

Lamia took out a walkie-talkie, tuned the channel, and said, “Argol, Argol, this is Bravado, do you copy?”

The walkie-talkie seemed to have a limited range. I guessed these were ranger codenames—Argol for A, Bravado for B. When the rangers discovered this place, they’d split up: one team went back to report, the other stayed to guard.

No answer.

Lamia tried again—still nothing. Faga said, “Detected demons.”

Lamia immediately checked her watch. “Five of them—two at three o’clock, two at nine, one at twelve.”

She scanned the area, spotted the tallest tree. “Faga, Old Wei, hide under the tree. I’ll take position above. Fishbone, go to nine o’clock—draw the two there toward us. They’re close together.”

I protested, “Demons run faster than I do.”

She replied, “Not faster than a divine bullet. A headshot, and they drop like paper. And I never miss.”

I knew nothing worthwhile came easy, but I hadn’t expected misfortune to strike so swiftly. My heart and body both ached—the former from her lack of trust the night before, the latter from the trap that injured my finger. She didn’t care in the least.

I shouldn’t have to bear such burdens. I suggested we come back tomorrow—after all, I wasn’t in any rush. That was the scavenger way: if you can wait, why take risks?

Lamia insisted, “Go ahead—it’s fine.”

She made it sound like I was taking out the trash.

I had no way to refuse. If our earlier rescue had made a good impression, my sandwich theft had certainly cast a shadow over it.

Why was I so reckless? After much thought, I decided it was all the fish’s fault.

It was the fish that endangered me, that made me act strangely, that made me lose control, that made me long for a whiff of air or a hint of flavor from a skyscraper, that led me to pick up the bad habits of lying and stealing during my escape.

Yes, it was all because of the fish—the root of all evil.

This conclusion made me stand a little straighter, though excessive righteousness is rarely welcome in this world. I was spotted by the demons.

Two white demons—each nearly 190 centimeters tall. They bore bullet scars, and at their feet lay mutilated corpses. I recognized the rangers’ insignia—had the demons killed the ones stationed here? The demons let out low growls and charged. They ran as fast as horses. I turned and fled as quickly as I could, but they drew closer and closer.

Bullets whistled past my ears, the shrill sound buzzing and making my head spin. I looked back—both demons had collapsed. I glanced at Lamia—she made a circle with her hand, smiled, and mouthed, “Keep going.”