C11 A Stranger

The nuclear explosion obliterated one of the only three Nuclear Renewable Energy Bases in the world, sending tens of thousands of tons of radioactive black diamonds skyward. They scattered across a radius of dozens of miles, creating what could only be described as a death zone within the explosion zone.

Yet, these radiated black diamonds were considered treasures, eagerly purchased on the black market. The survival supplies they could be traded for were significantly more valuable than any scavenged goods.

The old adage "high risk, high reward" rang true, and where there were great rewards, brave souls would surely follow.

Thus, some survivors dared to venture forth, donning protective suits and carrying lead bags to shield themselves from radiation as they embarked on the perilous path of mining. They limited their search and collection to the periphery of the explosion zone, never daring to penetrate its heart.

The miners faced risks beyond nuclear radiation. The Nuclear Renewable Energy Base was situated by the sea, surrounded by desolate wilderness.

Following the nuclear catastrophe, the human population dwindled dramatically, with most survivors hunkering down in cities, their range of activities severely diminished.

In the wake of human retreat, surviving wildlife seized the opportunity. Creatures like wild rabbits began to proliferate in the deserted human domains. However, due to nuclear contamination, they were not a viable food source for the survivors, but instead drew in large carnivores that had once been thought extinct. These predators may have originated from zoos left unattended in the aftermath of the explosion.

For the miners, these large carnivores represented an even greater danger. An encounter with a nuclear-mutated beast often meant slim chances of making it back alive.

Consequently, miners were typically both bold and meticulous, physically strong, and among the fittest of the survivors. Yet, in such a world, even they could turn to banditry.

Horace watched the approaching miners with growing intensity, the cold eyes behind their gas masks coming into sharp focus. He contemplated veering off to avoid them but realized it was too late.

At this proximity, fleeing would only show weakness and potentially provoke malicious intent. He had no choice but to follow the advice he'd given his son: when faced with danger, confront it with courage.

Sweat dampened Horace's palms as he gripped the handlebars firmly, pedaling at a steady rhythm, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the approaching figures.

The other rider was eyeing Horace, quickly discerning that he was an Excavator. The bulging backpack in his bike's basket was a clear sign of a successful haul, and there was even a child seated behind him.

As the two cyclists approached each other—one empty-handed and the other laden with goods—they were on the verge of crossing paths.

Horace appeared composed, but his entire body was tense, much like a hedgehog on alert.

Frank sensed his father's anxiety and clung to his waist, emulating a tiny hedgehog himself.

Survival rule number three: never approach strangers!

The two bikes kept a safe distance and brushed past one another without incident.

They were like two nomadic strangers whose paths briefly intersected before continuing on their separate ways.

Yet, the encounter mirrored a scene from an old Western film, where two cowboys, despite mutual disdain, ultimately refrain from drawing their weapons.

In the real world, most survivors carried guns, primarily to fend off nuclear zombies, but confrontations between individuals were not unheard of.

Horace didn't look back. He picked up speed, his ears perked up, listening until the miner's bicycle was a distant echo. Only then did his rigid body relax.

The city had nearly devolved into a survival-of-the-fittest society. In the struggle for existence, you could never predict what a chance encounter with a stranger might bring.

And if something did happen, in a world devoid of order and governance, there was no one to intervene. The only check on the survivors was their innate human instincts.

The nature of the human heart can change in an instant.

Today, fortune smiled on Horace. He pedaled with an unusual lightness, knowing that after this trip, he wouldn't need to venture out for at least a month.

Instead of heading straight home, the father and son duo made their way to the Shadow Market.

The Shadow Market was divided into larger and smaller sections.

The larger section was the city's hub, where survivors could congregate and settle in numbers. It consisted of several connected neighborhoods, forming a city within a city.

Upon entering the Shadow Market, both father and son instinctively relaxed. Frank stretched lazily, relieved from the constant threat of the elusive nuclear zombies.

Cameras blanketed the surrounding buildings, monitoring an area spanning several miles. If traces of nuclear zombies were detected on the outskirts, alarms would immediately blare.

Security personnel would swiftly deploy wire mesh barriers, sealing off the roads to prevent nuclear zombies from infiltrating the heart of the black market.

Even in the rare event of a nuclear zombie incursion, there was no cause for concern. They could only roam the streets, as each residential district was equipped with its own access control system, barring entry to outsiders.

Simultaneously, the patrolling security teams would spring into action to apprehend these invaders.

These security teams were part of a property management center established with funding from the black market's oligarchs. Consequently, the tens of thousands of survivors residing in the black market were obligated to pay a monthly management fee, effectively a protection fee.

For the survivors, residing in the black market not only guaranteed safety but also provided access to independent power generation, cable TV, and uncontaminated running water—though all these amenities came at a cost. It was also a matter of pride—the pride of being alive.

Thanks to the nighttime illumination provided by electricity, the photophobic giant rats dared not venture near the black market.

Shadow Market was situated at the epicenter of the black market, once the city's largest supermarket. It had since transformed into a bustling marketplace for bartering goods, the only human establishment open after dark.

Prior to the nuclear explosion, human civilization had reached a zenith, characterized by a booming virtual economy and the prevalence of electronic payments, with cash usage dwindling.

Yet, a single nuclear blast had the power to regress humanity to a primitive state.

Shadow Market was more than just a barter hub; it was the survivors' final bastion.

Even if the larger black market succumbed, Shadow Market could independently withstand the onslaught of nuclear zombies and the Greater Rats.

Shadow Market boasted two formidable iron gates, heavily guarded. The ground at the entrances, including the surface of the underground parking lot, was coated with a thick layer of asphalt, impenetrable to the burrowing Greater Rats.

Encircling the gates were three layers of iron wire fencing, far denser than those designed to deter nuclear zombies, capable of repelling ground assaults from the Greater Rats. The innermost wire fence was connected to Shadow Market's internal generator, ready to electrify into a defensive grid at a moment's notice.

The rooftop of the second-floor building was encircled with fire stations, each equipped with devices resembling fire hoses.

Indeed, these were fire hoses, but when activated, they didn't spray water; instead, they ejected gasoline. With a spark, they transformed into flamethrowers, formidable weapons against nuclear zombies and giant rats. The name 'fire station' was truly earned.

This ingenuity was born out of necessity.

Horace once lived in a nation where firearms were banned. However, following the nuclear explosion, societal order collapsed, and weapons from police and militia sources became readily available to civilians.

Yet, these conventional firearms proved ineffective against nuclear zombies, as standard bullets could hardly inflict significant damage. Instead, they tended to provoke the creatures into a more frenzied and aggressive state.

The only surefire solution was to take out a nuclear zombie with a headshot.