Zone 8

Prologue: Seven Deadly Sins After the sudden disaster, the earth lay scarred and ravaged. Species mutated, food became scarce, living conditions deteriorated, and the era was utterly destroyed — civilization wiped out completely. ... About 300 kilometers to the left of District 8, in an unplanned no-man’s land, on an unnamed street, a 23-year-old young man walked briskly with his hands tucked inside his clothes and his head down. The street was dilapidated and ugly; the underground sewage system had long since collapsed—no one knew how many years ago. Simple outdoor toilets gave off a foul stench, connected to a row of rundown shops. Lights were rare here, and groups of people occasionally gathered by the roadside—mostly women, with fewer men. The young man, walking briskly and staring straight ahead, was named Michael Joseph. He stood 1.82 meters tall with a sturdy build. He was unemployed today and planning to buy an official resident identity for District 8, marking the first step of his plan. Michael Joseph was originally handsome, with neat brows and features, a sunny type of good-looking guy. But now, he looked somewhat disheveled — his beard unshaven, slightly long hair matted together, clothes stained with grease and dirt — altogether inconspicuous in the crowd. Walking quickly, Michael looked up briefly at the intersection, preparing to return home via the left side. "Hey, young man, hey!" A clear voice called out. A woman wearing a faded white dress wrapped in a coat tugged lightly on Michael's arm by the roadside. Michael paused and looked back. "What?" "Thirty bucks," the woman held up three slender fingers, glanced behind at the shabby shops, and whispered, "Let’s go over there." "Heh, can't afford it," Michael chuckled and kept walking. "Wait." The woman grabbed Michael’s arm again. "Twenty-five, how about twenty-five?" Michael looked her over, hesitated a moment, then shook his head. "I don’t have money." "Don’t like me? There are others inside." "Really no money." Michael shrugged his arm free. "Let go, I’m in a hurry to get home." The woman bit her lip and held on tighter, then after a long silence whispered, "Two bowls of rice would work, but with my bowl’s measure." Michael frowned. "I told you, no. Let go!" Still clutching his arm, the woman looked back at a group of dirty children around seven or eight years old by the shops and said softly, "I have three kids. No business tonight. I can’t feed them… Please, young man, have mercy. Just one bowl of rice — I’ll kneel to you." Michael stared coldly, "How many years has the world been like this? If you can’t support yourself in this environment, why have kids?" The woman was stunned. Michael shook his arm hard, freed himself, and walked on. The woman stood there for a while, then ran back quickly into the shop, panting, "That guy has it… I saw it in his coat." ... About half an hour later. Michael Joseph returned to a shabby six-story building, climbed the dusty, old stairs, and entered his home on the fifth floor. Only Michael and his friend Xiao Zhuang lived here. The outer walls had collapsed in many places. If it were before, this would have been a condemned building. But in this era, home simply meant where you were, not where you lived. Michael chose this place because it had no lights or water, so he owed no expensive living costs. Inside was simple: one bed, two broken cabinets, no entertainment devices, and one worn-out military enthusiast magazine dated 2019. After entering, Michael took off his filthy coat and carefully pulled out a shiny canvas bag from his coat, then took a broken bowl and began scooping out tempting white rice, calling, "Xiao Zhuang, is dinner ready?" "Not yet, I just got back too," a voice answered from inside. A young man about Michael’s age, with dark skin and tough features, stepped out. Clatter! Clatter! Clatter! Just as Michael was about to speak to Xiao Zhuang, deafening footsteps came from downstairs. Michael froze, quickly hid the bag and bowl in the cabinet, and moved to the door, which was just a worn wooden board. In less than ten seconds, seven or eight children under ten, leading dozens of men and women, appeared in the stairwell. The stairs were outside, cracked cement, rusted iron railings. So many people rushing up caused the old building to shake violently. Michael shouted, "Don’t… don’t push so hard, d*mn it, the stairs will collapse!" "Uncle, we’re hungry." "Uncle, I want food..." ... The children each held a small bowl, dirty and staring at Michael. "I'm hungry too. Haven't you eaten dinner? If not, eat with us," Michael joked. The children looked pure and simple, but the adults behind them had torn off their basic human pretenses. A burly, shaved-headed man shouted first, "Give us food, or you won’t get down." "I don’t have food," Michael waved his hand, "We’re all starving ghosts in this no-man’s land, it’s not easy for anyone. If I had food, I wouldn’t promise you all, but at least I'd give some..." "Stop talking crap! We saw you hiding food," the big man shouted, "Hurry up! Take what you can, half is enough." "No." Michael shook his head. "Get inside," the big man barked. "Uncle, I want food." "Give me food." ... The crowd surged forward, shaking the stairs again, as if they could collapse at any moment. Michael’s eyes reddened. He lifted his right leg and pulled a dirty knife from his pants, pointing at the crowd. "D*mn it! You think I’m a lone wolf?! Who here is afraid to die? I have food—break my knife and I’ll kill you all." The crowd froze briefly. The big man coldly said, "Kids are in front. Go ahead and stab them first." "I… d*mn it!" Michael was speechless. "Get inside, take the food," the big man shouted again. The crowd surged forward, children clinging to Michael, pleading, "Uncle, give me food." "I haven’t eaten for days," one said. "Get lost!" Michael held the knife helplessly and shouted at the children, "Or I’ll stab! I swear, I will!" Inside, Xiao Zhuang rushed out, blocking Michael and shouting to the crowd, "Don’t be rash, let’s talk." The children, starving and fearless, clung to Michael. Adults pushed through gaps. Michael, big and strong, blocked the door, glaring and shouting, "I live for myself! Don’t force me!" The crowd surged crazily toward the door, ignoring him. The kids pulled Michael toward the door; he struggled, ready to face the adults. "Uncle, just one bowl of rice..." "Go away!" A kid tugged hard, and Michael swung his arm to break free, but the child bumped into the crowd, stumbled, and fell face-up through the iron railing. "Ah!!" A terrified scream echoed. Thud! The body hit the ground below. Michael and Xiao Zhuang were stunned, breathless, staring at the railing, unsure what to do. The crowd fell silent, stairs stabilized. "That kid fell," Xiao Zhuang shouted urgently. Dozens looked down, expressionless, silent less than two seconds, then turned back. The mother of the child froze, then screamed and rushed downstairs. Michael was stunned. "Food." "The kid fell. No food, no way they’ll let you leave." "Take it." "…!" The shouts filled the six-story building again, some drew knives, eyes dark, no gratitude. The big man spread his palms and said quietly, "You see, these people are crazy with hunger. I can’t control them. Why don’t you bring out the food bag? We split it in half." "You d*mn..." Xiao Zhuang got angry, pulling out a knife. "What? You wanna fight?" "Scared? We’re starving to death. You think we fear knives?" The crowd wasn’t scared of Xiao Zhuang and followed the big man rushing inside. Xiao Zhuang was stunned, unsure what to do. He wanted to fight but lacked confidence. Not fighting meant losing his things. Crack! Crack! At that moment, Michael pulled out a large revolver from the cabinet—20 cm long, triple cylinder, loaded. He spun the cylinder. The crowd froze at the sight of the gun. Michael expressionless, pulled out a big bag of food, threw it on the floor, shouting, "All the food’s here! If you want it, come get it." Silence. "Who are you trying to scare?" The big man shouted, bloodshot eyes, "No food means death. You think we fear your toy gun?" Michael tilted his head, pointing at the food. "The food is here. Reach out and take it. Come on!"