"How did you find me?" Mark finally voiced his lingering doubt. "I didn't even turn on the lights. How were you so sure there was someone in this room? There are dozens of apartments in this building, and you don't strike me as someone randomly searching."
Hank scratched his head. "During the day, I saw you coming out from downstairs, running to the convenience store to get food, and then safely returning. I had a clear view of the whole process from upstairs."
He continued, "And hey, your sword skills are really cool!"
"I've seen you before; you were always practicing with your sword by the riverbank. We don't live in the same building; I'm from apartment 213 across the way. Before the apocalypse, I came to this building to visit a friend, and I happened to run into you on the 6th floor. That's how I found your address."
"Afterward, I thought about staying in my apartment, but I realized I'd probably starve. You seem capable, and following you might increase my chances of survival, so I ran over from my place."
Hank's words flowed like a torrent, fearing that Mark might lose patience. He explained every doubt in Mark's mind clearly. In between, he threw in some compliments.
Once Hank finished his explanation, Mark finally connected the dots. He gave Hank's face a closer look and recalled seeing him outside before.
"Come on, have a seat," Mark said. While he didn't consider himself a good person, he wasn't a cold-blooded killer either. The chubby man didn't pose any immediate threat, and he had clearly demonstrated his abilities.
Hank eagerly accepted the invitation, but he positioned himself at a safe distance, careful not to provoke Mark.
"What's your name?" Mark asked.
"I'm Hank. And you?"
"Mark."
"I'm straightforward in my speech. I'll consider your proposal if you have any skills that can be useful to me."
"I can... "
"I have a lot of strength, so I can assist you in carrying heavy loads."
"I sing well. Imagine how nice it would be to have some music to break the monotony of life."
Hank rambled on with seven or eight points, some of which were skills anyone might have, while others were trivial. As he noticed Mark's growing irritation, he tried harder to pique Mark's interest.
After a moment of silence, Hank's eyes lit up as he thought of something.
"I'm proficient with computers, and I know my way around most electronic devices."
"Oh?" Mark perked up slightly. He wasn't particularly tech-savvy, but he could appreciate the potential value of someone with computer skills.
"Before all this happened, my job involved helping young people addicted to games. I would rehabilitate them and then transfer their gaming accounts to others, allowing them to start a new life."
"Account theft? You don't need to sugarcoat it that much," Mark quickly understood Hank's line of work.
Hank chuckled awkwardly. "Well, it's sort of like that, but I'm genuinely skilled in this area."
To prove his point, Hank rushed over to Mark's computer and started typing rapidly. Soon, Mark's computer desktop displayed photos of people, and the individuals in the photos were Hank himself.
"How did you manage this? Isn't the internet completely down?" Mark inquired, genuinely curious. He knew that the internet had collapsed, and the fact that Hank had retrieved these photos intrigued him.
"Heh-heh." Hank smiled proudly. "Indeed, the internet has crashed, but we have a local area network in our community. I used that to access my home computer and copied these photos."
Mark wasn't a computer expert, but he could tell that Hank possessed some genuine skills.
Mark lit a cigarette and contemplated for a moment before speaking, "Alright, I'll let you stay, but if you have any ulterior motives, think about the consequences. You must follow my lead in our future actions."
"Yay! No problem, brother. You can trust me; I'm completely honest," Hank exclaimed in joy, raising his voice a bit too much.
"Keep your voice down. If you attract zombies, I'll throw you out to feed them," Mark warned sternly.
"Okay, okay," Hank realized he'd gotten carried away and replied in a hushed tone.
Mark decided to keep Hank around because he believed Hank could be useful. Moreover, Hank had found his way to Mark's place alone, suggesting he wasn't entirely helpless. In these times, Mark wasn't afraid of god-like opponents; he was afraid of having useless teammates. Hank might be chubby, but he seemed resourceful, which was what mattered most.
The two of them talked for a long time, during which Mark asked about what had happened during his feverish period. It turned out that on the second day Mark was bedridden, a dense fog had rolled in.
Fog wasn't unusual during that season. Many people had still gone to work despite the fog. The fog lasted for a day and a night.
When it cleared, people who had been exposed to the fog discovered red spots covering their bodies. Soon after, their bodies began to rot, gradually transforming them into the zombies they were now.
Before the internet had completely collapsed, experts had analyzed that the fog contained minuscule ice-like particles. Scientists still hadn't figured out the exact nature of this virus. As long as these ice particles attached themselves to a person's body, the virus would infiltrate, leading to the transformation into a zombie.
In the two days following the fog's arrival, the infection spread worldwide. Soon after, the global internet system collapsed entirely.
Mark already had a rough idea of what happened afterward. His fever had likely saved him from exposure to the fog. His continuously drawn curtains had prevented him from noticing the fog outside.
As for Hank, as he put it, he was something of a homebody and could go a month without leaving his place. His parents hadn't returned since they left the house that day, presumably having turned into zombies. Mark offered a few words of comfort, but he couldn't fully empathize since he had been an orphan since childhood.