A new shed now stood in place, though it was about a third smaller than the original. Despite its "new" label, it was built entirely from old materials, blending seamlessly with the rest of the yard. A few buckets of water were thrown onto it as a test, and when it didn't leak, the job was deemed complete.
Alex White considered doing some pull-ups again but, remembering the struggles of the past few days, decided against it. If he broke the shed again, Dora Lin would probably lose her temper.
Noticing that Dora seemed slightly dissatisfied with the shed's size, Alex White grabbed a stick and set off for a walk. By the time he returned, she might have forgotten about it altogether. The stick was necessary—this village was so desolate that animals no longer feared humans. Whether it was a rat or a hedgehog, they'd charge straight at you. Plus, the stick could keep Eddie and Uncle Jones at a distance.
Alex White was learning to live like Dora. When she went out, he'd discreetly observe her; when she stayed home, he'd venture out on his own, trying to put what he'd learned into practice.
Yesterday, he stumbled upon some dandelions. These plants, known for their medicinal and edible properties, were good for diuresis and cooling the body. It was one of the few things he knew about. Back when he still had a job, he even bought dandelion tea online. He never imagined he'd one day get to pick it himself.
As he walked along, he saw Uncle Jones lightly bumping against the door of a nearby house. Alex White passed by without disturbing him, and the lame zombie disdainfully ignored the so-called "zombie king."
"No one's home here, take a break," Alex White muttered.
The lame zombie paused, sensing movement, and turned to locate the source of the voice. But by then, Alex White had already walked far down the village's deserted path and out into the wilderness.
Life had to go on.
Long ago, this area had been farmland. There might still be wild wheat, or perhaps other crops like corn, left behind in the fields, taking root and growing. After so many years, they might have become wild and lost their quality, but as long as he could find them, he'd figure something out.
Farming was grueling, backbreaking work. There's an old saying: "Women fear childbirth, men fear harvesting wheat." Without machines, harvesting wheat by hand was a punishment, almost impossible to endure.
Dora Lin had tried her hand at farming, but it turned out that growing crops wasn't as simple as just tossing seeds into the soil. Watering, fertilizing, weeding, dealing with pests—there was so much to do, and it was exhausting. Despite her efforts, the plants often fared worse under her care than if they had been left to grow wild. Eventually, she gave up, deciding to let them be. When the plants turned slightly yellow, she'd harvest them, dry them at home, and process them bit by bit.
If the harvest was too small, she'd store it away, saving it for winter. When the snow fell, she'd clear a patch of ground and catch some birds. Somehow, she always found a way to put everything to use.
The fields were overgrown with wild grasses. Standing there, Alex White suddenly felt as if he were the last person on earth. He began to understand what Dora meant when she spoke about the difference between those who lived before the disaster and those, like her, who grew up after it.
As he walked, grasshoppers and other insects scattered in his wake, fluttering away before settling down nearby. Hearing something rustling in the grass, Alex White swung his stick with sudden force, only to be startled by a flash of gray fur. It wasn't a rat, but a wild rabbit that quickly darted away.
He wandered for a while and eventually spotted a small river at the foot of a distant hill. He walked over to it but couldn't be sure if the fish in the river were infected. Standing by the water's edge, he could make out shadows moving beneath the surface.
Alex White tried to recall the design of the old fish traps people used to make, thinking he might catch some small fish or shrimp. When he mentioned it to Dora later, she had already forgotten about the shed being smaller.
"Fish traps? Sure, people used to make those and actually caught fish," Dora said after pondering for a moment.
She tried to remember where she had seen one before and then led Alex White out of the house. They wandered through the silent village, taking twists and turns, until they finally stopped in front of a dilapidated courtyard.
After breaking the lock and pushing open the creaking door, they stepped into the long-abandoned yard. Dora used her stick to sweep away the overgrown weeds as she slowly approached the house. "Let's look around. The old man who lived here was good at fishing with rods and traps. But after a dead zombie floated down from upstream, he stopped fishing for a long time."
The walls of the old house were peeling, and the interior was cold and damp, sending a shiver down Alex White 's spine. It felt like something out of a horror movie—a haunted village house where you half-expected a vengeful spirit to leap out at any moment.
Alex White glanced at Dora Lin. Unlike him, who had been immersed in horror stories and films, Dora probably didn't have the same erratic thoughts running through her mind.
The old house had five rooms, and they hadn't even finished searching all of them when they came across an old fishing rod and a fish trap. Unfortunately, the net on the fish trap was already torn, leaving only the frame behind. The fishing rod was worn out and dilapidated, its usability questionable.
As Alex White dragged them out, lamenting their poor condition, he suddenly heard a noise that made him jump. He quickly turned his head toward the sound, which came from the neighboring yard.
Dora glanced in that direction but said nothing.
"A zombie?" Alex White asked.
"Mm-hmm."
"Could it be..." A sudden thought struck Alex White . Besides Eddie and Uncle Jones, there was only one zombie left in the village.
"My father," Dora replied calmly. Seeing that Alex White had grabbed the fishing rod and the broken fish trap, she headed out.
In the neighboring yard, Alex White saw Dora's father, now a zombie. He was confined within the yard, his skin stretched tightly over his bones, emaciated, with deep-set eyes. There wasn't anything particularly unusual about him—if anything, he didn't seem as old as Uncle Jones or Eddie, and he still had some strength, moving without the typical shuffling gait.
This was a man who had once survived the outbreak while protecting a pregnant woman and child, only to become the very monster he once fought against a few years later.
It was a tragic fate.
"How did he get infected?" Alex White asked.
"Zombie blood splashed into his eyes," Dora replied.
Her father was one of the last survivors in the village, enduring the initial terrifying disaster, only to be infected years later when the threat of zombies had significantly diminished. Not long after, her mother also fell ill.
Dora had once hoped that her father might return one day, but long ago, she suddenly realized that he was never coming back—what remained was just an empty shell.
But after meeting Alex White, a small flicker of hope reignited within her.
"I thought you'd keep him next door..." Alex White hadn't expected to find him in such a remote corner, far from where Dora lived, at the opposite end of the village.
This is a secure place, providing a confined area where he can be kept from wandering while still having some space to move.
"That was the original plan, but my mother refused. She said the dead shouldn't disturb the living."
Dora Lin pulled out a piece of dry food from her pocket and tossed it into the courtyard, hoping it might provoke a reaction.
But it was to no avail. Unlike Alex White, he didn't eat, communicate, or learn.
Alex White observed remnants of rotting food scattered across the ground.