C10 Miners

Horace roused his son with a firm, "Time to get up."

Frank's eyes squinted open as he murmured with a pitiful pout, "Just a little longer, maybe one more minute?"

"No way! Up and at 'em, now!" Horace insisted, pulling back the covers without further discussion. He was a firm believer that a military-style regimen was key to his son's swift development.

Within ten minutes, the pair had hastily finished their meal and were geared up to go.

Every survivor knew that the twilight hours, when night gave way to dawn, were the safest. The giant rats would retreat with the fading darkness, and the nuclear zombies had not yet appeared on the horizon. This window of opportunity typically lasted about thirty minutes.

After inspecting his son's sprained ankle and seeing the swelling had gone down, Horace breathed a sigh of relief.

Nevertheless, he decided to leave the survival supplies in Frank's backpack at their makeshift hideout, lightening his son's load since his ankle was still healing.

Frank had just managed to squeeze a plush penguin into his now lighter backpack, achieving the best of both worlds.

As the sky began to lighten, the duo left the complex, striding confidently on their return journey without the need for the caution they had exercised on their arrival.

It took them only twenty minutes to reach the hidden spot where they had parked their bicycle. Relieved to find it still there, Horace felt this foray into the wasteland had gone exceptionally smoothly.

The Buick, which had weathered many storms with Horace, was still operational but rarely used to avoid attracting the attention of other Excavators.

He had camouflaged it meticulously, parking it in their home complex as a last resort for him and his son. Should any emergency arise, it would be their means of escape.

Horace secured his backpack in the bicycle's front basket, while Frank took his place on the rear seat. They fastened their seatbelts around their waists, ready to speed away at the first sign of nuclear zombies to prevent Frank from tumbling off.

Horace had always taught his son to remain calm in the face of nuclear zombies, explaining that "they" had many vulnerabilities and that humans had numerous strategies to counter "them."

He emphasized that in a one-on-one confrontation, even hand-to-hand combat, "they" were at no advantage and could even be weaker than an average person, for at their core, "they" were essentially sick.

Once, while the father and son Excavators were scouring the desolate land, they encountered a solitary nuclear zombie. It lunged at them like a predator that had stumbled upon a feast.

Horace seized this prime opportunity to impart a hands-on lesson to his son, Frank, allowing him to witness a one-on-one battle with the nuclear zombie.

To set an example, Horace refrained from using his pistol. Instead, he brandished his military knife and deftly sliced through the nuclear zombie's throat, targeting their most vulnerable spot.

As blood gushed from the severed throat like a fountain, Frank was hesitant to watch, but his father sternly commanded him to observe the scene closely.

Horace preferred to be harsh with his son rather than let the world be cruel to him.

Over the past three years, he had slain seven nuclear zombies, all in the presence of his son. Only once did he resort to using a gun, to test the pistol's performance and the effectiveness of the hollow-point bullet.

Yet, he had never killed a female nuclear zombie, not out of chivalry, but because he harbored a suspicion that she was still alive.

Of course, even if she had survived, she would have been transformed into 'her.'

He feared mistakenly killing her, as all nuclear zombies bore a striking resemblance to one another.

If she were alive, could she be hiding in some corner of the city, silently watching over him and his son?

In his skirmishes with the nuclear zombies, Horace had sustained numerous injuries, but thankfully, these creatures did not possess the same infectious qualities as traditional zombies.

Being bitten by 'them' wasn't the terrifying part; it was the prospect of being devoured that was truly horrifying, for 'they' consumed only flesh and blood, sparing the internal organs.

The father and son had once come across the remnants of a devoured person—nothing left but bones encasing the untouched organs, the pulsating heart a grim testament to life persisting.

Horace couldn't fathom what such an experience would feel like, but he imagined it to be a fate far worse than the most barbaric ancient tortures.

He constantly reminded his son that there were only two options when faced with nuclear zombies: either when they swarmed in numbers or when a lone one caught the scent of blood. In those moments, the only choices were to hide or to flee.

Yes, although they had become patients, they had awakened a certain primitive talent within humans: the ability to strike together. This instinct for cooperative attacks was an evolutionary trait developed by early humans for survival, to hunt large beasts. But now, they were using this instinct against their former kin.

Nuclear zombies could not be exposed to blood. Upon detecting the scent of blood, whether from humans or animals, they would transform into frenzied beasts, becoming more aggressive. Their physical functions would surge, their strength would increase, and their speed would quicken, as if they had been injected with a cocktail of stimulants and narcotics.

Perhaps this was also a major reason why nuclear zombies viewed normal humans as delectable prey—they had developed an addiction to consuming human flesh.

As a result, the father and son had only two options when encountering a group of nuclear zombies: hide or flee.

Young Frank couldn't outrun the nuclear zombies no matter how hard he tried. If Horace took him on the bike, they could shake them off—provided, of course, that the zombies hadn't caught the scent of blood.

The second rule of survival, "stay away from women," was essentially about avoiding bloodshed. Aside from the fact that women's scent was naturally alluring to nuclear zombies, it was also due to the monthly bleeding that women experienced. No one wanted to carry a ticking time bomb with them.

There were indeed women among the survivors, but they remained in safe locations, venturing out only when absolutely necessary.

For the men, once they left the safety of their haven, they were reluctant to approach any woman who wasn't a relative or a loved one.

For Horace, this wasn't an issue. To him, women were just like nuclear zombies—creatures to be avoided at all costs.

He pedaled the solid-tire bicycle with his son aboard, pushing it as fast as possible, hoping to get as far away as they could before any nuclear zombies appeared.

In the dim morning light, amidst the disarrayed streets, a figure emerged from the opposite direction, closing in rapidly.

Horace decelerated, and the other cyclist did the same.

This was another survivor, pedaling early in the day just like Horace and Frank, but heading in the opposite direction.

From a distance, Horace noticed the other's camouflage protective gear and knew that the individual was an Excavator, heading out of the city.

This camouflage nuclear biochemical protective suit is a relic from the military's emergency response in years past. Horace's family has two sets, including a smaller suit he prepared for his son Frank, which was quite rare and cost him two months' worth of food rations to acquire.

Nowadays, the environment has improved to the point where people can venture outside without protective gear, except for miners who still wear suits for safety.

In this desolate city, survivors have only two viable means of self-sufficiency: becoming an Excavator or a miner. Excavators face relatively safe conditions, while mining is fraught with far greater risks.

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