Dora Lin retrieved the open bottle of alcohol and began using it to cleanse Alex White's wound. The complexity of zombies re-infecting is overwhelming. Survivors can't make sense of it, and even zombies encased in helmets are baffled.
"The chance of infection from scratches is still quite low; if you weren't bitten, you might not get infected," Dora Lin explained, pouring the alcohol with careful precision.
Alex White, cleaning his wound with aged Moutai for the first time, felt a mixture of emotions. "What are the symptoms of an animal infection?" he inquired.
Dora Lin hesitated, finding it too harsh to describe. "Well... I'll keep a close watch on you."
"Alright. If I die, keep this," Alex White said, producing a gold bar from his chest. Dora Lin looked at him with confusion, not grasping the purpose of the gold.
He had found it while scavenging in the building. Even if it serves no practical purpose, the mere sight of it can be gratifying—a sentiment Dora Lin might not share. "It was initially worthless, but considering you mentioned your grandfather's speculation... if human cities are ever rebuilt in the future and you happen to find one, it might prove useful."
"If you survived a zombie bite, you'll definitely be fine."
"Yeah... I think so too."
Alex White hadn't observed any adverse reactions yet. "Then I'll hold onto it myself."
Gold has a natural allure to people. It's perplexing why Dora Lin would regard it as worthless.
"Could it be that I am the normal one, and you are the infected?" Alex White mused.
"Hmm?"
"You don't even like gold."
The tricycle clattered along the road. Dora Lin hoped the zombie would not perish.
"My father once mentioned that in the absence of other options, white sugar can be used to disinfect wounds," Dora Lin suddenly recalled.
Alex White was taken aback. With his limited knowledge, he asked, "Isn't sugar a breeding ground for bacteria?"
After a brief pause, he added, "I remember you said your father was a doctor?"
"Yes."
"Well... forget it. I'm fine now, so let's avoid unnecessary trouble," Alex White said hesitantly. Feeling better, he decided it was best not to complicate things. After he spoke, he felt conflicted. In this apocalyptic world, Dora Lin had survived, indicating that her family possessed some skill. Perhaps it was worth a try?
The tricycle slowly exited the city.
As they left, Alex White felt a sudden sense of relief. The outside was still desolate, but the oppressive silence of the city had been unsettling.
Dora Lin pedaled the tricycle with strength, each turn creaking slightly.
Alex White touched his helmet, reassured to find no adverse reactions. "I should add a spike to this helmet."
With such a modification, that creature from earlier would not have stood a chance.
"Can such a modification be done?" Alex White asked.
Dora Lin glanced at him but did not reply.
Alex White held a stick and helped push the cart from behind, moving slowly alongside it.
The cart, laden with numerous items, couldn't move as quickly as when it was empty, but a walking pace was manageable.
"You can sit on the cart," Dora Lin suggested, glancing back and adjusting the items. "You can lie down and get on. If we encounter zombies, I can handle them."
"No need," Alex White replied. "If it's an infection, a few hours more or less won't make a difference."
Dora Lin considered this and said, "Perhaps we can hold out until we get back to the yard. You could take a shower and leave with some dignity. After all, you've always been attentive to that." Even in the rain, he would wash his hands and face.
"Is there a chance that I won't die?"
"I'm just discussing a possibility," Dora Lin said.
"Thanks. I'll take over pedaling," Alex White said, observing his companions. Killing fewer zombies now might mean not ending up in hell after death.
"I'm not tired yet. You should avoid strenuous activity during your observation period," Dora Lin insisted.
Alex White shrugged. Dora Lin seemed briefly surprised by the suggestion that he should leave with dignity, but then returned to her usual calm demeanor.
She must have become accustomed to the inevitability of death.
He began to calm down as well, no longer panicking as he had when first infected by zombies. Perhaps Dora Lin had influenced him, not with the virus, but with her outlook on life.
Strive to live, but do not fear death.
"I don't know if those still living on this land feel the same. When disaster strikes, choices become scarce," Alex White said, carrying his stick after a long stretch of walking.
"I don't want to fight zombies anymore. Let me pedal for a while," he added.
"There are fewer zombies ahead," Dora Lin responded.
As they left the city, the surroundings grew increasingly desolate. Even the older zombies had become much less frequent. Seeing that Dora Lin insisted on reducing his strenuous activity, Alex White could only help her push the cart, hastening their pace slightly to ensure they made it back to town before dark.
"Why did you bring that thing?" Alex White asked, noticing the deformed guitar on the cart that he hadn't seen before. It was now partially exposed from the bag due to the bumps.
"What?" Dora Lin asked, unable to see it while pedaling.
Alex White pulled the guitar out and strummed the strings, producing a sound.
"It doesn't take up much space, so I brought it along. If I couldn't, I'd have thrown it away. I couldn't just bring back some food and sit idly at home. I also brought several books and that jumping stick," Dora Lin explained.
"What books?"
"I forgot their titles. I just packed them after a quick glance."
She only remembered they were novels, but it didn't matter. Any book would do.
Her father had said that if order were to be rebuilt, books would be among the most valuable things. He also said that if rebuilding wasn't possible, books would be among the most useless things, even less practical than a fruit knife.
Alex White gazed ahead. The sun was rising slowly, and the sunlight revealed a landscape devoid of life, as desolate as ever.
"If I'm going to die, let me sing you a song. No one has probably sung to you before," Alex White said, holding the deformed guitar.
"Go ahead," Dora Lin replied.
"You might not hear anyone sing again in the future. You should remember this for a long time."
"Of course."
"You're striving so hard to survive. If I end up infected by that cat, consider this a gift for you, the survivor of this disaster. It's all I have to offer."
Alex White felt a pang of sadness. He admired Dora Lin's resilient spirit. It was always good to survive.
Dora Lin pedaled the cart with determination. If she could, she wouldn't want this zombie to die, but such matters were beyond anyone's control.
"You can keep that gold bar for me," she said.
"Well, I suppose so," Alex White responded with a wry smile. It wasn't like he had nothing—there was still a gold bar from his scavenging days.
He touched the strings of the guitar, lost in thought. He had learned to play it back in school, but he never imagined he'd be giving it as a gift to a solitary survivor in the apocalypse, especially after being bitten by a zombie and facing an uncertain fate.
"Actually, it's not so bad," Alex White said suddenly.
"What do you mean?"
"All this is much better than dying immediately the day I was bitten."
"That's true."
"I'm glad to have met you, my friend in this end-of-the-world."
Alex White strummed the guitar.
On the desolate roads of the apocalypse, zombies sang while humans pedaled a tricycle.