Su Nian stared at the torches without moving.
The firelight drew closer and closer. She counted them.
Three people!
They were talking, their voices muffled, making it impossible to hear what they were saying.
Xingxing was still asleep in the back seat, wrapped tightly in the blanket.
Slowly, Su Nian reached out and pressed the door lock.
Click!
The sound seemed especially loud in the silent night.
Her fingers froze for a moment. She waited several seconds, but the conversation outside continued uninterrupted. They didn’t seem to have noticed.
She slowly reclined her seat and lowered herself until only the top half of her head was visible above the window.
One hand reached beneath the passenger seat and found the entrenching shovel. With the other, she drew the knife from her waist pouch and laid it across her thigh.
Someone pushed on the iron gate.
It didn’t budge. A man cursed.
“I think there’s a truck inside,” one voice said excitedly.
“Hurry up and open the gate.”
The iron gate was kicked with a loud clang.
“Are you an idiot? You’re making so much noise.”
As soon as he finished speaking, one of them squeezed through the gap in the gate. The torch entered first, casting a wash of orange light into the courtyard.
Then came the upper body of a thin man with messy hair, holding the torch high.
He glanced inside, spotted the pickup truck parked in the corner, and his eyes lit up.
“Boss, there’s a truck! There really is a truck!”
He turned around and called out, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.
The gate was pushed open wider, and two more men squeezed inside.
One was tall and carried an iron pipe. The other was short and heavyset, with a bulging backpack slung over his shoulders.
All three walked toward the pickup.
The skinny man led the way, raising the torch close to the window. The orange glow shone through the glass, illuminating Su Nian’s face.
He jumped in fright and stumbled backward, nearly dropping the torch.
“Someone’s inside! There’s someone in the truck!”
The tall man shoved him aside and leaned toward the driver’s window.
He looked inside, saw Su Nian, then noticed Xingxing wrapped in a blanket on the back seat.
“What are you scared of? It’s just a woman with a kid.”
He knocked on the window twice.
Bang! Bang!
“Miss, open the door.”
Su Nian didn’t move. She tightened her grip on the entrenching shovel while clutching the knife firmly in her other hand.
The tall man knocked twice more, speaking louder.
“Don’t be afraid. We’re not bad people. We’re just passing by and hoping to catch a ride.”
Su Nian remained motionless.
The short, heavyset man walked to the front of the truck and slapped the hood, producing a dull thudding sound.
“Why waste time talking to her? Smash the window and drag her out.”
The skinny man instinctively took half a step back, still holding the torch.
The tall man shot the heavyset man a glare but didn’t object.
He turned back toward Su Nian, the pretense disappearing from his face.
“Miss, this is the last time I’m asking. Open the door. We don’t want your life. We only want the truck.”
Without saying a word, Su Nian looked at the tall man, then at the skinny man, and finally at the heavyset man standing by the hood.
The heavyset man bent down, picked up a brick, and walked toward the driver’s side window.
She couldn’t let them smash the truck.
If the window shattered, the journey ahead would become much more difficult.
She still had other vehicles in her 200-square-meter storage space, but there was no telling what dangers lay ahead. One extra vehicle meant one extra chance to survive.
“Don’t smash it. I’ll come out.”
She pushed open the driver’s door and stepped out.
All three men stopped simultaneously.
The skinny man instinctively retreated another half step, his torch wavering. The tall man narrowed his eyes, while the heavyset man stood frozen with the brick still raised.
Su Nian stood beside the truck, casually swinging the door shut behind her without locking it.
Her arms hung naturally at her sides.
Her hands were empty.
The heavyset man was the first to laugh.
“So, you’ve finally come to your senses?”
Su Nian ignored him and looked only at the tall man.
He studied her carefully, his gaze moving from her face to her empty hands before shifting to the truck behind her.
The door was closed.
The child in the back seat was still asleep.
“You can have the truck,” Su Nian said quietly. “But for the sake of my child, could you leave us the supplies?”
The tall man hesitated and was just about to nod.
“No way, Boss! We’re almost out of food ourselves!” the heavyset man interrupted.
The tall man faltered.
Su Nian knew she couldn’t afford to be softhearted anymore.
They might not leave either her or her son alive.
“Then leave us half,” she pleaded, bowing her head slightly.
“A small half,” the tall man corrected.
“Fine.”
Su Nian turned and walked toward the rear door.
The moment she bent over, she silently called out in her mind.
A machete appeared in her hand.
It was fifty centimeters long, its blade razor sharp.
She straightened, spun around, and swung the machete at the heavyset man standing closest to her.
He saw nothing more than a blur.
The blade crashed into his raised right arm, slicing it open.
Blood sprayed out instantly.
He let out a shrill scream, dropping the brick as he staggered backward several steps before slamming into the front of the pickup and collapsing to the ground.
The skinny man was so frightened that he dropped the torch, which rolled twice across the ground.
The tall man retreated three steps, instinctively raising the iron pipe in his hands, but he didn’t charge.
His eyes stayed fixed on the machete in Su Nian’s hand before shifting to the blood pouring from the heavyset man’s arm.
The wound was deep.
Blood streamed down his arm and dripped onto the ground.
Su Nian didn’t move.
She stood before the truck with the machete held across her body, blood still dripping steadily from the blade.
The heavyset man clutched his arm and howled on the ground. The skinny man crouched down in a panic, fumbling repeatedly as he tried to pick up the fallen torch.
The tall man stared into Su Nian’s eyes.
Her gaze was ice cold.
There was no fear.
No hesitation. Not even anger.
He believed without a doubt that Su Nian would strike again.
Then he remembered that today was only the first day of the Apocalypse.
It wasn’t worth risking his life.
Slowly, the tall man backed away, tightening his grip on the iron pipe.
“Let’s go.”
The skinny man finally managed to retrieve the torch and shakily climbed to his feet. The heavyset man was still wailing, but the tall man grabbed him and dragged him toward the gate.
The three men stumbled out of the courtyard, their hurried footsteps fading into the distance.
Su Nian remained where she was, listening until every sound disappeared.
Only then did her hands begin to tremble.
First her fingers. Then her entire arm.
She nearly lost her grip on the machete.
Switching it to her other hand, she leaned it against the truck door before crouching down, gasping for breath.
Her heart hammered wildly, and her temples throbbed.
A sleepy voice came from the back seat.
“Mom?”
Su Nian stood immediately, hiding the machete behind her back.
She opened the rear door and leaned halfway inside.
Xingxing rubbed his eyes and sat up, the blanket slipping down onto his lap.
“It’s okay. Mom just stepped outside for a little fresh air.”
She gently stroked his cheek.
Xingxing gave a sleepy “Mm,” then lay back down, hugged his teddy bear, and soon drifted back to sleep.
Su Nian returned the machete to her 200-square-meter storage space, secured the iron gate shut with wire, climbed into the driver’s seat, and locked the doors.
Those three men probably wouldn’t dare come back.
She leaned against the seat.
She was simply too exhausted.
Eventually, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
She didn’t know how long she had been asleep when the distant roar of an engine suddenly echoed through the night.
Su Nian’s eyes flew open.