Just half a day after the radiation dust storm, the sky was still turbid and leaden.
Ling Ye dragged the heavy iron coffin, leaving a long drag mark on the cracked wasteland.
The edges of the iron coffin were grinding against the shoulder blades, and the bones seemed to be crushed with every step.
His lungs were burning, and every breath of air he breathed in smelled of rust and dust.
He hasn't eaten anything seriously in two days.
The water in the kettle sloshed, making only a small muffled sound.
His vision began to darken, and he knew this was a sign of collapse.
Just before his legs and legs gave out completely, he saw the wreckage of the overturned truck.
The frame was corroded and the tires were long gone, lying there like a huge steel corpse.
He used his last strength to drag the iron coffin into the shadow of the truck bed.
Sitting down with his back against the cold iron coffin, he waited for five minutes before raising his hand to undo an inconspicuous hidden button on the side of the coffin lid.
The coffin lid slid open a crack, and there was no body inside. There were only a few simple changes of clothes, a deflated backpack, and a small piece of stuff carefully wrapped in oil paper in the corner.
