The Last Sample

In the third year of the nuclear apocalypse, the world has only one human left. His name is Chen Du, nineteen, a scavenger. He fights bugs every day, surviving with a screwdriver and a pair of worn-out boots. The system in his head is as stingy as an accountant—after two years, it gives him only 3 survival points, enough for a roll of bandages and a bottle of water, leaving 1 point. Life is miserable enough. Then a radiation victim hands him a military communicator before dying. The screen reads: Remaining samples: 1, Experiment subject number K-0371. The bugs don't kill him. Worker ants and soldier ants have been putting on an act for him. The entire apocalypse is a cage. Before Chen Du can digest this, the system pops up a message: This system is not unique; there are other hosts in the current area. He looks up, and a woman walks out of the darkness, her eyes glowing blue like his, blood dripping from her blade. She is also a host. She has also survived until now. But only one sample is needed. "So you're here to kill me?" She doesn't answer. Behind her, the darkness echoes with the sound of countless arthropods tapping the ground. Not twenty, not fifty. The entire city's ground is shaking. The bugs stop pretending.