C12 Early Adulthood

Contrary to what zombie films often depict, not just anyone can pick up a gun and effortlessly blow a zombie's head off. Movies are just that—movies. In the real world, even seasoned gun handlers struggle to land a headshot on a zombie.

Horace saw this first-hand during the nuclear zombie outbreak. Whether it was police officers or soldiers who arrived on the scene, hitting the heads of the nuclear zombies proved difficult, despite using pistols or automatic rifles, especially given the zombies' rapid movement.

Regular bullets would merely pass through the nuclear zombies, inflicting only penetrating wounds. The zombies could still move swiftly and launch frenzied attacks. Many officers and soldiers fell victim to this.

Thankfully, the military had access to heavy weaponry, including heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, and flamethrowers. These tools were crucial in dispersing the nuclear zombies. However, these weapons were not left behind when the military withdrew.

Survivors had to rely on their ingenuity to craft weapons effective against the nuclear zombies. Hollow-point bullets were one such innovation, made by modifying regular bullets to explode inside the zombie, causing maximum damage and slowing them down.

But ammunition was finite, and with a shortage of materials to produce more bullets, survivors couldn't afford to shoot indiscriminately.

The black market factories came up with a solution—a homemade gunpowder gun, paired with simple paper cartridges filled with gunpowder and iron filings. Although it had limited range and lethality, it was quite effective against nuclear zombies due to its large spread.

Consequently, gunpowder guns became standard issue for the security teams. These teams, numbering around five hundred, were tasked with maintaining order in the black market and ensuring the safety of its tens of thousands of residents.

In a city reduced to ruins with a population of just over a hundred thousand, sustaining such a military force was pushing the limits of what was bearable, but any fewer would be insufficient.

The nuclear blast had obliterated the city's infrastructure, including its order and laws. For survivors, staying alive was the utmost priority. Although murders over resources occasionally occurred, these incidents paled in comparison to deaths caused by disease, starvation, nuclear zombies, and other factors. To the people who had grown accustomed to such a harsh reality, these violent encounters were just another part of their new normal.

In the black market, there was a certain level of order.

For instance, theft, robbery, or murder were strictly prohibited, and violators would be shot on sight by security. Trespassing into private homes was also forbidden, with homeowners having the right to defend themselves by any means necessary.

There were instances where survivors brandished guns and caused chaos in the black market, only to be riddled with bullets by security using gunpowder weapons. They writhed in agony on the ground for a day and a night before succumbing to their wounds, serving as a stark warning to others.

Such was the law of the black market: no defense, no trial, just the most primitive forms of punishment.

Indeed, it would only take a nuclear explosion to revert humanity back to a primitive state.

Yet, this type of black market remained a coveted destination for survivors.

To differentiate between places, survivors often referred to them with nicknames such as “Big Black” and “Small Black.” For example, one might say, “I visited Big Black to see a friend today and then stopped by Small Black to do some shopping.”

Horace parked his bicycle in a ground-level parking area overseen by security and, holding his son's hand, joined the queue at the Shadow's west entrance.

The line was composed of survivors looking to trade, all donning headgear or masks that concealed everything but their eyes, with a mix of men and women, and scarcely any elderly or children.

Despite the number of people, the queue was orderly and not overcrowded, as everyone maintained at least a meter's distance from each other, and silence prevailed.

The security guards, clad in uniform gray combat attire with bunker-style hats that covered their mouths and noses, leaving only their eyes visible, stood sentinel. They cradled their gunpowder weapons, complete with bayonets, and surveyed the crowd with an intimidating gaze.

This was a true reflection of reality.

When people concealed their faces behind masks and headgear, their true nature was ironically revealed. Perhaps this was because human interactions are fundamentally indifferent, devoid of the need for insincere pleasantries and formalities.

From time immemorial, it has been said that neighbors could live out their lives without ever speaking to one another.

Under the watchful eyes of security, survivors first had to pass through a specialized gate that detected nuclear radiation, akin to an airport security checkpoint, scanning both individuals and their belongings.

Items exceeding radiation standards were tossed into a large bin, while individuals who surpassed the limit were required to remove their outer garments until they passed inspection. Additionally, they had to pay an entrance fee with small items of barter value.

This was the first layer of exploitation imposed by the black market oligarchs.

Horace brought a windproof lighter as his entrance fee and successfully entered "Shadow" with his son, Frank.

Upon passing through the large iron gate, they were greeted by a blast of warm air. The place was bustling with people, none of whom wore masks or headgear, thanks to the installed air filtration system.

Father and son kept their headgear on, merely flipping up their face masks to enjoy the unpolluted air.

The faces around them came to life, and even the coldest eyes seemed to sparkle with a hint of mirth. Humans are inherently social creatures, seeking comfort in each other's company.

First, they headed to the exchange area on the west side designated for Excavators. Since it was early, the line was short, and Horace quickly got his turn.

He set his heavy backpack on the counter, pulling out his finds from the previous day, one by one, enduring yet another layer of black market exploitation.

Frank watched intently from the side. When his father exchanged his favorite canned fish, Frank's throat moved slightly, but he remained silent.

Children in the post-apocalyptic world mature quickly.

Finally, Horace retrieved an iPad 9 from his backpack, catching the eye of the clerk behind the counter. It was a valuable item.

After leaving the exchange area, Horace's backpack had deflated, now replaced with a stack of vibrant bills.

These day-valid bills could circulate within the black market, exchanged for water, food, medicine, and other essentials, serving as a form of temporary currency.

Excavators unearthed a variety of items, and the Exchange District was open to almost anything. For items without exchange value, like the plush penguin Frank cherished, one could take them to the Free Exchange District for personal bartering.

The ground floor of the Shadow Market was the largest, divided into three sections: the Exchange District, the Shopping District, and the Barter District.

The Shopping District was conveniently situated right next to the Exchange Area, making it easy for customers with tickets in hand.

Father and son entered the Shopping District, greeted by neatly arranged rows of shelves and counters displaying a dazzling array of products, reminiscent of a supermarket.

Horace paused first at the water dispenser. Reluctantly parting with his ticket, he felt a twinge of regret—water was essential for survival. After each foraging trip, the Excavators would often spend at least a third of their finds on water alone.

Holding Frank's hand, he moved on to the food section, mentally tallying how many mung beans and compressed biscuits to get. Despite being tired of these foods, they were vital for their nutritional value.

Before long, Horace's backpack was bulging with food, vitamin pills, salt, candles, small canisters of liquefied gas, and other survival essentials.

Stepping out of the Shopping District, he felt fortunate to still have a few tickets left—a rare treat made possible by the iPad 9, which allowed him a bit of indulgence today.