Apocalyptic Island - Chapter 49

Chapter 49

The mutated rats pushed aside the manhole covers, and countless rodents infiltrated the homes of the residents.

Rats migrate; when the external environment becomes unsuitable for survival, they seek out places they deem safe. Naturally, these places are human homes. Attempts to drive them out or exterminate them only made these variants more frantic, as they resorted to any means necessary to attack humans and bolster their numbers.

A pointed head peeked out from behind the man’s neck. A rat with exceptionally long front incisors bit down hard into his throat. The man let out a blood-curdling scream, his hand holding his reading glasses trembling. He no longer needed the prompts from the chat; he could already feel the rat on his neck. Because of his age, his movements were not very agile. He flailed his hands, but before he could grab the rat, the fat variant bit clean through his jugular.

Blood instantly sprayed onto the camera lens, turning the viewers’ perspective a solid, visceral red. Inside the room, all signs of life ceased, leaving only the bone-chilling sound of mastication. The tiny creature that one could once crush with a flick of a hand had now claimed his life effortlessly.

A living person was reduced to a pile of shredded meat in seconds. Within the crimson frame, dense swarms of rats scurried in from the kitchen entrance, gathering around the man to feast. Once all the flesh was consumed, the rats, their bellies swollen and round, emitted satisfied squeaks.

The frantic scrolling of the live chat witnessed this horrific scene. Under the blood-red lens, everyone felt their hair stand on end in sheer terror. People began checking their own drainage pipes and any window that a rat might squeeze through. The Federation’s various chemical solutions were no longer effective against mutated plants and animals; every department was in a state of overload. Artificial intelligence and various robots had become humanity’s final straw.

While the chaos inside the city persisted, the other side of the forest was a picture of tranquility. When Wen Yishu woke up in the morning, she found the spot beside her empty. She hadn’t been startled awake even once. Having slept through the entire night, she felt refreshed. She pulled back the blanket that had been neatly tucked around her and sat up to look around.

The treehouse was empty.

The Banyan’s voice suddenly appeared, giving her a fright: “You’re awake.”

Wen Yishu bounced off the bed, then said with surprise: “You’re awake?”

A trace of coolness touched her fingertips. Wen Yishu looked down to see the String of Pearls slowly wrapping its vines around her hand. She simply scooped the plant up. It lay lazily in her palm; it had just been reminding her not to forget to take it along.

The Banyan’s voice continued: “Yes, I woke up last night. Seeing you two were sleeping soundly, I didn’t wake you.”

Wen Yishu pressed further: “Why did you both suddenly go silent yesterday?”

The String of Pearls’ lively voice rang in her ear: “After soaking up the sun, I just felt so lazy. It felt like I hadn’t slept in forever, so I just drifted off.”

Plants falling into deep sleep was indeed related to the sun. Wen Yishu’s guess was correct; she heard the Banyan confirm it. She opened the window, letting the cold wind howl in. Wen Yishu picked up her coat from the table, put it on quickly, and reopened the window. Outside was a mediocre, cloudy day. Yesterday’s sunlight was hidden behind dark clouds, appearing only fitfully; consequently, the spirits of the String of Pearls and the Banyan were also somewhat erratic.

The Banyan explained that this was due to going too long without dormancy. All plants had been in a state of high excitement for several days with no time to rest. Thus, when the sun came out, they fell into a deep slumber. Things should be much better now; it was like a human staying up for several nights—as long as they stopped and got some sleep, they would recover. The more vigorous the plant, the better its recovery ability. For example, bamboo didn’t need recovery at all; it slept in shifts with no impact.

Wen Yishu understood the general idea, and her initial excitement leveled off into calm. She had originally wanted the Banyan to send them directly out to save strength—swinging out on aerial roots like free monkeys—but now it seemed that was asking too much. If the Banyan couldn’t ward off the drowsiness, she would be left hanging at a high altitude, making getting down a major problem.

However, the Banyan could still take the shipping container for safekeeping. Unlike people, cargo wouldn’t break easily. After making the request to the Banyan, Wen Yishu was about to climb out the window when the previously locked door opened automatically. She sheepishly pulled back her leg and laughed awkwardly: “Haha, habit.”

She packed up the things in the room and carried them down. Rubbing her hands, which were red and swollen from the friction of the rapid descent, she walked over to Bai Mi, who was washing up nearby. Bai Mi had already changed clothes. Seeing Wen Yishu come down, she glanced over while brushing her teeth and said indistinctly, “Why didn’t you sleep a bit longer?”

Wen Yishu shook her head and pointed to her optical computer: “Biological clock. From my old job; I wake up the moment it’s time.” Aside from the very beginning when she let herself sleep until the afternoon, she had woken up like this almost every day. Her body felt much more energetic since gaining her ability.

After finishing a simple breakfast, the two set out on their return journey. Wen Yishu was no stranger to the bicycle now. She sat on the rear seat Bai Mi had installed, feeling the cold wind scrape her face. She looked back at the tree trunk. The squirrels that had been scattered on the ground were gone. Seeing her look back at them, the Banyan uttered gloomily: “Grateful for nature’s bounty.”

Wen Yishu: “…”

The String of Pearls in her pocket gesticulated wildly, repeating the Banyan’s words: “Yes! That’s the way to say it! Grateful for nature’s bounty!”

She was speechless. She finally knew who the Banyan had been learning from. Fortunately, the String of Pearls was leaving; otherwise, there was no telling what the Banyan would turn into under the influence of this “street-drifter” of the plant world. She wondered how long the big and small plants had been gossiping while she slept last night; it was a miracle she hadn’t been woken up.

Wen Yishu waved, intending to say goodbye to the Banyan. The aerial roots in front of her swayed. As Bai Mi looked down, an aerial root brushed over Wen Yishu’s head, and the Banyan’s voice sounded in her ear: “Wuhu! You haven’t left yet. It’s still early.”

Wen Yishu: “…”

With her cheeks burning, she pulled back her hand and rolled the String of Pearls into a ball. She didn’t know what they had been communicating, but the Banyan’s steady and composed demeanor was vanishing.

The bicycle ride was bumpy. Wen Yishu kept her body stiff, but she still couldn’t stay steady. Finally, after Bai Mi navigated a steep slope, Wen Yishu gripped her waist tightly. She closed her eyes in resignation, staying alert to their surroundings.

Bai Mi took a new pair of goggles and an earpiece from her pocket for Wen Yishu. Ever since Wen Yishu learned of Aix’s awakening, she had been wary of such electronics. No wonder she had seen so many primitive survival tools in Bai Mi’s study; if the android were ever abandoned by humans, she would surely go to a remote place to live. Even without companions, she would surely feel lonely.

Thinking of this, Wen Yishu hugged her tighter. The person in front seemed to sense her mood. While observing the surroundings, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Wen Yishu’s muffled voice came from behind: “Nothing, Team Leader. No matter what happens, you have me now. Let’s discuss everything together, okay?”

“You’re not alone anymore.”

She felt something damp drip onto the back of her hand. Wen Yishu’s heart jumped. She couldn’t tell if it was a raindrop from the sky or a tear. She quickly dismissed the thought, pulled her hood tighter, and continued riding with Bai Mi along the small path by the river.

The floor tiles here had been pushed up by the root systems of the surrounding trees, scattered everywhere. They had no choice but to dismount and walk. Aix’s signal barely recovered here, but for some reason, she remained silent. The two women also shared a tacit understanding not to ask. Wen Yishu felt her acting skills had reached their peak, showing no sign of suspicion.

The Banyan’s voice grew smaller as she moved further away until it vanished. She took one last look back; the Banyan had hidden her luggage near the exit, blocked by a pile of aerial roots, waiting for her to return for it someday.

The two crossed the park. Fortunately, the primitive stone bridge over the river was still intact. The river below was frozen, reflecting two blurry silhouettes. Once past this area, they got back on the bike. The streets gradually widened. There were few residential buildings near the scenic area; many blue-and-white buildings leaned precariously—the handiwork of plants.

There were few living people left in the streets or buildings. The two didn’t bother to hide, walking boldly past plants waving their branches. They found an old, single-story building that looked relatively clean. After parking the bike and taking off their gear, Wen Yishu waited for Bai Mi to unlock the door and then walked inside.

The air inside was heavy, as if it hadn’t been ventilated in a long time. They planned to take a short break in this simple bungalow, have lunch, and then move on. Wen Yishu gathered some dry pine branches that had fallen to start a fire and heat their cans.

Their progress was somewhat slow. Bai Mi had ridden here non-stop alone, but with Wen Yishu’s weight added, the speed was limited. It wasn’t safe to ride at night, so they planned to return to the city gradually.

She carried the firewood inside. The bungalow was an abandoned old meeting hall. Although it was only one story, the terrain inside was somewhat complex. Bai Mi had already cleared a large empty space, pushing aside the crumbling tables and chairs. A layer of thin dust rose from the long-uncleaned floor. Wen Yishu fanned the air in front of her. Her nose felt uncomfortable; the stale, moldy air rushed into her nostrils, making her want to sneeze. She hurriedly dropped the firewood, covered her mouth and nose, and ran back outside, her mouth open in discomfort.

Dust danced in the air, shimmering with prismatic colors under the light. There seemed to be a certain substance in the air. Wen Yishu frowned, pulled Bai Mi out of the room, and waited for the dust to settle before going back in. Though the ventilated meeting room still didn’t smell great, it was barely acceptable.

Wen Yishu unfolded a simple stool and stuffed the firewood into the portable stove Bai Mi carried.

The door, which had been left slightly ajar, suddenly slammed shut. Sitting face-to-face, the two turned their heads in unison to find a giant red-headed centipede, as long as the door itself, clinging quietly to the wood. Its countless disgusting, curved legs were writhing, and in the next second, it lunged toward them.

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