When the mutated rat jumped past my feet, I was crouching behind an overturned tricycle, looking through it for anything useful.
It hadn't rained in more than three months, and the air was filled with the sour stench of steel and concrete that had been rotted by the sun, mixed with the smell of rotting corpses. I was used to it, just like I was used to hunger and fear. In the fifth year of the apocalypse, the people alive are either ridiculously lucky, or their lives are as hard as a chopping board.
I'm a courier. It was before the end, and it will be after the end.
It's just that now I can't deliver express, so I can only look through other people's undelivered express.
The tricycle was a takeout box from Meituan. There were two bottles of mineral water left in it. One bottle had been dried long ago, and the other bottle had half a bottle left. I unscrewed the cap and smelled it. There was no strange smell, so I drank it down. The water was lukewarm and smelled of plastic, but in this damn place, liquids were life.
Before I could take a breath, my ears heard movement first.
