Cold.
It's not the bone-scratching coldness of the last days that's mixed with radiation dust and rotten odor, but a pure coldness that stems from hunger and cold and goes deep into the bone marrow. This kind of coldness gave Su Qingyuan a sense of absurd dislocation in the ups and downs of her consciousness.
Her last memory was that the shelter she had guarded for three months was finally breached by a wave of mutants, and the steel and concrete were torn apart like paper. The piercing alarm, the desperate roar, the sound of flesh and blood being torn apart, and... The feeling of the cold dagger that her former companion stabbed into her abdomen in order to snatch the last half of the compressed biscuit.
Hunger, betrayal, death.
She should be dead.
What about the sharp pain that feels like your whole body is falling apart, the burning thirst in your throat, and the familiar hunger in your abdomen that feels like it's being grasped and twisted by invisible hands?
