Chapter 2

The asphalt road underfoot had softened.

I maintained a steady marching pace and my breathing was calm.

For someone who had spent a whole year struggling in this wasteland and ultimately died from being exposed to the scorching sun, this amount of physical exertion was nothing to worry about.

About twenty meters behind me, I heard the sound of weary footsteps, some deep and some shallow.

Elena caught up anyway.

In my past life, to accommodate her physical limitations, I walked and stopped frequently, and even carried her for a long time. But this time, I did nothing, and didn't even say a word to her.

Walking the remaining forty miles was simply unrealistic, but I knew where to find transportation.

Memories of my past life are etched in my mind—a pickup truck is parked under an abandoned overpass less than two miles ahead.

The car was completely undamaged, and there was even half a tank of gas left in the fuel tank.

Because it was bait specifically prepared for passing survivors.

As I walked into the shadow of the collapsed overpass, the dark green pickup truck, covered in dust, was indeed parked there, its hood raised high.

Three men were surrounding the pickup truck.

One of the men was lying on the ground, his trouser legs covered in blackened blood. The other two men, emaciated, were trying to fan him with a tattered cloth to cool him down.

"Help us... Is there any water...?"

The man lying on the ground saw us and immediately let out a weak cry, "My leg is broken... Give me some water, or some anti-inflammatory medicine..."

Upon hearing this voice, Elena immediately ordered me, "Where's the water? Quickly bring it to them!"

I stood a few meters away, coldly watching the three poorly acting thugs, pondering how to snatch the keys from their hands.

In her past life, Elena was ambushed from behind by these three guys because she insisted on saving people.

To save her from that rusty meat cleaver, I took a heavy blow to the shoulder with an iron rod.

I fought tooth and nailed two people under that bridge, and despite being badly wounded, I managed to steal the car. She later blamed me for being too rough.

Didn't you hear him calling for help?

When Elena realized I wasn't reacting, she looked at me like I was a cold-blooded monster. "I'm going to help him."

She walked straight toward the three men.

"God bless you, ma'am! You're an angel!" The other two men immediately showed expressions of extreme gratitude.

Elena stood there naturally, chin slightly raised, enjoying the "adoration".

But in that instant, the man suddenly sprang to his feet, his rough hand grabbing Elena's hair and yanking it backward. Immediately afterward, a rusty meat cleaver mercilessly strangled her, the blade pressed firmly against her carotid artery.

The man who was lying on the ground pretending to have a broken leg rolled over and jumped up with remarkable ease.

"Ah! What are you doing! Let me go!" Elena screamed in terror.

The three men quickly dispersed, forming a circle around me, their greedy eyes fixed on the bulging backpack on my back.

"Take off your backpack and water bottle and throw them over here!" the leader, who was holding a knife to Elena's neck, roared at me. "Or I'll slit a hole in your wife's throat!"

"Cole! Help! Give them the stuff!" Elena struggled desperately, looking at me with despair, hoping that I would fight for her as I had done countless times before.

I took one last, deep look at the blade pressed against her neck, and wondered if I should just take this opportunity to kill Elena here.

“Listen,” I said calmly, “her life or death is none of my business. I won’t give you a single drop of these supplies. Go ahead and slit her throat. Just don’t get any blood on my boots.”

The three thugs were stunned at the same time.

Elena stopped struggling and stared at me with wide eyes, as if she were seeing me for the first time. Her eyes were filled with unbelievable fear, but then a hint of understanding flashed in her eyes. She thought I was just making threats to lower the guard of these three people.

After all, in her mind, I could never abandon her.

"You think I'm joking?" To establish his authority, the leader pressed the blade down a few notches, and a trickle of blood seeped out.

Bang!

A deafening gunshot shattered the deathly silence beneath the bridge.

Large-caliber rifle bullets whistled through the air and struck the leader who was holding Elena hostage with pins and needles.

Elena, no longer held hostage, collapsed to the ground, her legs giving way.

The roar of the engine grew louder as it approached.

Three heavy armored off-road vehicles, covered with military blast netting, drove through the heatwave and came to a stop.

Fully armed mercenaries quickly jumped out of the two rear vehicles and raised their assault rifles.

The remaining two thugs were immediately riddled with bullets.

The door of the middle bulletproof SUV was pushed open.

A blond, blue-eyed young man stepped down.

The modified rifle in his hand was still emitting wisps of smoke from its muzzle.

Vance, the only son of the First Army's highest-ranking officer, is the direct commander of the convoy.

“Damn thugs, how dare they be so arrogant on this line.” Vance tossed his rifle to his men and strode over to Elena, who was slumped in a pool of blood, trembling.

He knelt down on one knee in front of her and reached out to help her up.

"You're safe, ma'am. Are you alright?"

Vance's voice was filled with the chivalry that can only be cultivated in an absolutely safe environment.

Elena suddenly threw herself into Vance's arms and burst into tears.

Her perfect face, framed by tears and dust, exuded a heartbreaking sense of brokenness.

We didn't meet Vance here in our past life. It's probably because I've been traveling a lot this time, so I'm going faster than in my past life, that's how we met Vance.

Vance patted her back to comfort her, then turned around and stared intently at me, who was standing a few meters away.

He heard what I just said.

"You're her husband, aren't you?" Vance stood up, making no attempt to hide the disgust and contempt in his eyes. "Your wife is being held at knifepoint by these scumbags, and you're planning to abandon her to protect those supplies? Are you even a man? Is your blood cold?"

I watched his righteous condemnation, but I felt nothing; in fact, I found it somewhat amusing.

"Sir, don't blame him..."

Elena spoke up behind him, her voice trembling as she subtly wiped away a tear, "The environment is too cruel. He's just... terrified by the wasteland. I tried to use love to keep him human, but he was afraid of being implicated by me..."

With just two simple sentences, she not only explained why I didn't help him, but also completely established an angelic image in Vance's mind.

Vance averted his gaze in disgust, no longer looking at me. Turning to Elena, his expression softened. "Madam, you may ride in my command vehicle. We are escorting a convoy to Outpost Three. As for that coward..."

I took the pickup truck keys from the thugs: "Don't worry, I won't hold you back."

Vance sneered and escorted Elena into the car.

I didn't explain, I just started the pickup truck. The truth is meaningless; whoever controls the narrative gains the moral high ground.

I shifted into gear, stepped on the gas, and the pickup truck followed Vance's powerful armored convoy at a comfortable distance.

...

At six o'clock in the evening, a huge reinforced concrete fortress finally appeared on the horizon—Outpost No. 3.

This is the last civilian survivor transfer station set up by the military in the "Ark" transfer plan.

The outpost was completely surrounded by heavy machine gun positions and blast walls.

The huge square outside the defensive line was packed with refugees.

I parked the pickup truck, picked up my tactical backpack, and got out.

Not far ahead, Vance had already helped Elena off the armored vehicle.

Elena instinctively covered her nose, glanced at the refugees outside the barbed wire fence, and then huddled close to Vance.

I saw the disgust in her eyes.

I glanced at the turnstile, reached into my tactical vest, and grabbed two chips.

The real show is just beginning.