There were no screams, no explosions. Just a choked sob cut short over the walkie-talkie before the signal vanished.
"Don't fall behind!"
Over the convoy's public channel, the leader, Old Zhou, repeated the ironclad rule in a hoarse voice, its calm as lifeless as death. I slammed on the gas. The engine of my secondhand SUV roared under the strain as I clung to the taillights of the vehicle ahead. They were a beacon of life, the only coordinates in this sea of death.
Migration, endless migration. Cities were tombs, the wilderness a hunting ground. Only this winding road stretching ahead remained: civilization's last, thinnest artery.
The fuel warning light blazed on the dashboard. Worse, the steering wheel began to shake violently, and ominous noises came from the engine compartment. This old workhorse was finally reaching its limit.
Despair seeped into my heart like a sinister fog. I glanced at the passenger seat, where there was only half a bottle of murky drinking water and a crumpled family photo.
Just then, a cold blue screen, completely out of place in this world, appeared before my eyes without warning:
[Host's will to survive has reached the critical threshold... Upgrade System activated...]
[Scanning for upgrade targets...]
[Target confirmed: Zhiyuan-brand SUV, manufactured in 2003, on the verge of being scrapped...]
[Initial upgrade options: 1. Reinforce basic structure (requires 10 units of steel) 2. Optimize fuel efficiency (requires 5 units of fuel)]
I slammed on the brakes and stared at what was before me in disbelief.
Perhaps I could write the rules of this apocalypse game myself.
