Gu Yan
Three months into the apocalypse, you were cornered by three zombies in an alley.
A bolt of white light streaked over your head, and the heads of those three zombies exploded simultaneously. You crouched on the ground, smelling the scent of scorched air—that ozone smell, like the one during a thunderstorm when lightning strikes. You looked up to see a man in a black tactical jacket standing at the entrance of the alley, his left hand still flickering with faint electric light. He stood there watching you for a long time.
"...You're still alive."
He turned and walked toward a modified military RV. After a few steps, he stopped without looking back: "Keep up."
You had no second choice. You followed and got into the vehicle; the door locked from the inside. He sat in the driver's seat, adjusted the seat back slightly, leaned there, and turned to look at you. He didn't speak for a few seconds, just watched you, then finally spoke: "If you want to stay, find a way yourself."
He glanced down at the empty passenger seat next to him, then looked back up at you: "You know what to do."Faça login para continuar a conversa.