Soon, the man, seemingly having vented for half a minute, leaned against the backrest behind him. It was only then that he noticed Mark through the window upstairs, and their eyes met.
Mark felt as if the man had let out a soft sigh towards him, and from the man's eyes, Mark sensed a mixture of fear, anger, resentment, regret, and finally, a hint of relief and peace.
The two of them continued to lock eyes for about ten minutes, and eventually, the man slowly closed his eyes, tilted his head, and fell onto the car window. Mark knew that the man must have passed away.
"Sigh." Mark let out a quiet sigh. He didn't turn and leave but continued to observe. He knew that, based on the progression, there was a high probability that the man would turn into an undead. Mark needed to understand the time it took for such a transformation.
As expected, another ten minutes passed, and the lifeless man's body started convulsing violently. The skin on his face seemed to loosen significantly, and suddenly, his eyes reopened. However, these eyes had turned a murky yellow, completely assimilating with the zombies outside.
At this point, the six zombies outside seemed to lose interest, no longer in a frenzy, no longer pounding on the car windows, just wandering aimlessly with lowered heads.
Mark drew the curtains closed again, his face gloomy, and sat back on the living room sofa.
"This world is in chaos."
Mark's mood was heavy at this moment. He knew that the man's anger stemmed from wondering why Mark hadn't warned him about the zombie at the car's front end. But Mark wasn't concerned with that. To him, he was usually someone who didn't like to get involved in other people's business.
Perhaps for the man, it wasn't a trivial matter, just a friendly reminder. But Mark had thought of something more important. When he had just woken up, he knew nothing about what was happening, he didn't know the habits of zombies, and he didn't know if a simple reminder from him might jeopardize his own safety.
Mark never let others affect his decisions.
Unknowingly, the morning passed.
Mark was still sitting on the sofa. The ashtray beside the sofa was filled with cigarette butts, indicating how many cigarettes he had smoked.
In this half-day, he had thought about a lot of things. He pondered the cause of this catastrophe, whether it was a natural disaster or man-made. He considered the number of survivors—were there more humans or zombies? He thought about the scope of the infection, whether it was limited to this small city or if the situation was the same worldwide.
But what occupied his thoughts the most were the habits of the zombies.
Mark was grateful that he hadn't made any noise when the female zombie knocked on the door earlier. Otherwise, there was a good chance she would have drawn attention and more zombies would have come.
Now, Mark knew his remaining food was running low. After these few days of consumption, he only had half a bucket of water and two bags of bread left in the refrigerator. If zombies were to block his door, it would be the worst-case scenario.
Thinking about this, Mark quickly got up from the sofa. He tiptoed back to the door.
Opening the peephole, he looked outside.
"Thank goodness, there are no zombies outside."
Mark breathed a sigh of relief. The situation wasn't too bad yet. He estimated he had two or three days before he needed to venture out in search of food.
Mark lived on the 6th floor, and there was only one exit. He picked up his phone to check the signal once more, but there was still no connection. He also tried turning on his computer, but as expected, the entire network system was down.
Based on these details, Mark deduced, "I've been sleeping on and off for five days, so the catastrophe couldn't have happened just these two days. It's impossible for the entire network system to collapse in just two days without maintenance."
Mark realized that the outbreak must have occurred on the first day he fell ill with a fever.
In times of chaos, if no one maintained the network system, it could easily collapse within five days.
In the afternoon, Mark surveyed the items available in his home. Aside from the limited food and water, he found some everyday medications. His gaze then turned to his most familiar Tang knife hanging on the wall.
Mark wasn't too anxious. For some reason, he felt a strange sense of excitement. Perhaps it was the monotonous and mechanical nature of his life in recent years that made him crave excitement, or maybe it was because this Tang knife gave him a sense of security.
Mark had been practicing with knives since he was a child, and he had been doing it for more than 20 years now. Even he couldn't explain why he liked it. Many people had advised him that in a harmonious and stable society, being familiar with bladed weapons served no purpose. With the energy he spent on it, he could have achieved something in his career.
However, what had been disregarded in the past now became Mark's most important means of survival.
Busy for a while, Mark began to feel the fatigue in his body. Although his fever had completely subsided, his body still needed food to recover its strength.
After his appetite returned, Mark quickly took out a bag of bread from the refrigerator and started eating. He hadn't had a proper meal for several days, and in a matter of moments, the last piece of bread was stuffed into his mouth.
"Gulp, gulp."
He finished the entire cup of water in one go. Mark was feeling much better after that.
"It looks like even if I ration it, this bag of bread will only last me two more days."
Mark didn't bother cleaning up the trash on the table. Instead, he reached for a cigarette and lit it, leaning back in his chair to take a deep drag.
While he was usually a clean person, the current situation didn't warrant spending time cleaning the house. It was better to plan for what lay ahead.
"The quietness of the neighborhood, coupled with the number of infected, should mean that most people are staying in their homes."
Mark's analysis was correct, as he observed that by evening, about four or five households in the neighborhood had their lights on.
Mark didn't turn on any lights. He only pulled back a corner of the curtain, allowing the dim moonlight to provide the room's illumination.
There were probably some people who had sought information online before the network went down, but Mark didn't have that opportunity. As far as he knew, zombies were attracted to sound, carried a virus, and if you were bitten accidentally, the virus would spread throughout your body in about 10 minutes, leading to a state of pseudo-death.
Mark liked to call it pseudo-death because after another ten minutes, the pseudo-dead would wake up again, assimilating into a new zombie.
Unknowingly, the night had grown late. Most of the surviving people in the neighborhood had probably seen the gruesome scene of the man from earlier that morning. Until now, no one had dared to venture out of their homes.
Mark decided, "Alright, time to sleep. I'll observe for another two days, then I'll have to figure out how to get some food."
After checking all the doors and windows again, ensuring everything was locked as it should be, Mark felt more at ease. He took the Tang knife off the wall, brought it into his bedroom, locked the bedroom door, and entered a restless sleep.
He didn't sleep well that night.
The next day, Mark woke up as usual. Outside, it was still quiet. He ate a third of the bag of bread, not enough to stave off hunger but sufficient to keep him going for the time being.
He walked to the window and decided to continue observing the situation outside.
Sure enough, it didn't take long for two people to cautiously step out from another building's entrance in the neighborhood.
"It's a man and a woman, probably a couple."
Mark could tell that the two were a couple rather than a married couple because both appeared to be around 20 years old.
Like the man from the previous day, they observed their surroundings while hiding for a while before heading outside the community.
Judging by their direction, they were heading towards a small supermarket outside the community. After spending five or six days at home, they likely had no food left.
But shortly after leaving, whether due to bad luck or other reasons, they caught the attention of a nearby zombie.
The zombie appeared to have been a sanitation worker before.
The woman, in her panic, stumbled and fell to the ground.
Mark shook his head, knowing that the woman was in trouble.
Zombies weren't much slower than humans, and since the distance wasn't great, before the woman could get back on her feet, the zombie pounced on her from behind, sinking its teeth into her neck.
"Help me! Save me!"
The woman reached out towards her boyfriend ahead, shouting in terror. The boyfriend turned his head back, looked at her with fear, and continued to run outside.
The zombie tore at the woman's flesh, bite by bite.
"Help me! Help! Help—!"
The woman's agonizing screams echoed through the otherwise silent neighborhood, shattering the peace. Zombies began to gather from all around.
One, two, three...
In less than half a minute, more than 20 zombies had appeared within Mark's field of vision, and their numbers were increasing rapidly.
Even outside the community, zombies were continuously pouring in.