It was July, the height of midsummer, and the sun was scorching.
The asphalt roadway had curled into scales under the sweltering heat, thick and hideous vines embedded in every crack.
Clutching a short blade, the man struggled to hack away the encroaching vines, pressing forward along the roadside signposts.
"Happiness City, your premier wasteland refuge!"
"Happiness City, the hope of humanity's next era!"
"Happiness City, an endless bounty of food and energy!"
"Happiness City, where everyone earns dignity and respect!"
"Happi—"
The farther he went, the denser the roadside slogans grew—nailed to crooked telephone poles, spray-painted across the crumbling outer walls of banks, and even carved into the surfaces of weathered shop signboards.
Like some sort of bewitching incantation, though exhausted to the bone, he suddenly felt a surge of strength welling up from within, and even his trembling legs seemed to lighten.
Following the signs through several consecutive turns, the urban shadows receded like a retreating tide. Blinding sunlight poured down, the line between light and shadow sequestering the ruined buildings behind him.
Exaggerated as the radio broadcasts' depictions of Happiness City had been, the man still could not help parting his lips in an astonished gasp when he saw it with his own eyes.
What struck his gaze first was the legendary Great Wall of Happiness!
According to the broadcasts, this great wall was roughly thirty meters tall and stretched over ten kilometers, enclosing a massive living zone of a full ten square kilometers.
Yet in reality it had to be far larger, for the wall formed an irregular ellipse.
Going by the population density of wasteland refugee settlements, the interior could easily accommodate at least a million souls!
Before the great wall lay the quarantine buffer zone standard to every sanctuary city.
What made Happiness City different was that its quarantine zone was just like its towering wall—some ten-plus kilometers long and five kilometers wide, equally orderly and colossal.
Though most structures inside were relics preserved from the Old Era, with a few dilapidated pedestrian streets still faintly visible threading through them, the checkpoint at the very front of the quarantine zone exuded a heart-stopping solemnity.
Divided by uniform chain-link fences, the checkpoint was split into three sections—front, middle, and rear—corresponding respectively to initial screening, quarantine observation, and resident registration.
In the screening area, after passing through the pair of metal gates at the front, entrants were ushered into iron quarantine cages mounted on conveyor belts. The conveyors transported them before inspectors at different booths to undergo disease screening.
Once cleared and confirmed free of contagion, survivors could proceed directly to the rear zone to complete their residency registration.
Doubtful cases, on the other hand, were sent to the central observation zone to spend three days in canvas tents.
[You have entered the Happiness City Security Perimeter]
[Please follow the yellow line forward for quarantine inspection]
[Trespassers will be shot on sight]
As he drew near the quarantine zone, the tone of the roadside signs changed markedly.
Swallowing a dry mouthful of nervous saliva, the man hoisted his backpack and pushed forward, quickly melting into the queuing crowd.
"Please queue in an orderly fashion. Do not crowd. Enter the quarantine cages as family units for inspection!"
A raspy synthesized voice echoed above the screening area. Eight bunker-like watchtowers loomed like crouching behemoths, the loudspeakers on their walls repeating the order without pause.
The survivors kept their heads bowed, shuffling their feet in silence as they advanced under the cold gaze of heavy machine guns.
Yet upon boarding the quarantine cages, the survivors were given one opportunity to choose their inspector.
Numbered one through eight, eight rust-streaked conveyor belts ran side by side, leading to eight inspectors of varying ages and genders.
The man's eyes flickered. Pretending to scan the booths casually, he quickly locked onto Inspector No. 8, the corners of his mouth curling into a faint, imperceptible smirk.
Though all the inspectors wore masks, one could easily tell from the skin of his neck that Inspector No. 8 was the youngest. Naturally, passing his inspection ought to be the easiest.
...
"Name?"
"Edmond Lake."
"Where are you from?"
"Sack Federation City."
Right in front of the man, Inspector No. 8 spread out a map. After searching for quite a while, he looked up in surprised skepticism. "Oh? That's nearly three thousand kilometers from Happiness City. How did you get here?"
"I took freight trains, motor vehicles, a short boat ride, and walked the final three hundred kilometers on foot to reach Happiness City."
"Alright, that really is a long journey. See the first thermometer on the table before you? Pick it up, point it at your forehead, press the button, and tell me the reading."
"Understood."
Fixed inside each quarantine cage was a small square table bearing three testing devices.
Following the inspector's instructions, Edmond picked up the thermometer and soon saw two numbers appear on its LCD screen:
47.02.
"Sir, this thermometer seems to be broken. How could my body temperature possibly be forty-seven degrees?"
"Is that so?"
Inspector No. 8 leaned forward with a puzzled look. After verifying the number, he gestured reassuringly.
"Looks like the device really is malfunctioning. No matter, let's move straight to the question-and-answer section. Once you pass the test, you can head to the back for resident registration."
"Wonderful. Please, go ahead, sir."
"Between Sack Federation City and Happiness City, along which stretch did you travel by water?"
"It should be... the Linjiang tributary?" Edmond tried hard to recall. "A massive wave of infected broke out in Yun City, so water was the only way around that stretch."
"The exact date?"
"June fifteenth."
"You remember that clearly?"
"Of course. That was Happiness City's Foundation Day. I sat by the radio and listened to three full hours of the celebration broadcast." Remembering the solemn chiming bells and roaring cheers filtering through the static, an expression of profound contentment appeared on Edmond's face.
Evidently, along that grueling journey, Happiness City's broadcasts had provided him with a great deal of "happiness."
"Mm, alright. Then do you remember the regional disaster broadcast right after the Foundation Day program ended?"
"There was one?"
Edmond's smile froze, his pupils contracting sharply in the shadows. "I... I don't recall. Maybe it aired too late?"
"Of course you wouldn't."
Metal scraped harshly as Inspector No. 8 pulled open a drawer and drew out several photographs.
In the photos, the river resembled a muddy serpent bursting from its banks, inundating vast stretches of the wilderness.
"On June fourteenth, before dawn, a sudden flash flood struck the Linjiang tributary. The water surged seven meters, and the corpses of every single person on that river were caught under the broken bridge thirty kilometers outside Yun City.
"Yet your voyage arrived a full twenty-four hours after the Grim Reaper."
"What?"
As if a hidden switch had been flipped, Edmond jolted to his feet. The color drained from his face at terrifying speed, his features twisting in the blink of an eye into an ashen, puckered mass like wood-ear fungus soaked for far too many days.
"Flash flood... broken bridge... I..."
Edmond's pupils abruptly dilated, his jaw slumping toward his chest as though dislocated. Right after, three grayish-purple tentacles erupted from his throat, their dusky skin studded with suckers.
Yet before the foremost tentacle could even slip through the gaps of the iron cage, a tiny red dot suddenly flared on his forehead.
Boom!
The 7.62-millimeter bullet proved exceptionally good at "exorcism." In the instant it shredded the tentacles, it blew away half his head along with them.
Edmond's torso was hurled backward, revealing squirming sarcomatous tissue at the nape of his neck. Uncannily, what remained of his face still wore a grotesque grin, a continuous hiss whistling through his mangled windpipe: "A lie... Happiness... is a lie..."
"Codename: Deathwhisper Tentacle. Infection progress: Stage Two. Neutralized by Trainee Inspector Cheng Ye in coordination with watchtower sniper."
Looking up to see an "OK" hand sign signaled from the watchtower window, Cheng Ye let out a sigh and pressed his comm to report.
A reply promptly came through the communicator: "Acknowledged. Cleanup crew arriving in three minutes. Inspector, please maintain order on site!"
Maintain order?
Cutting the transmission, Cheng Ye looked around, fighting back the wave of nausea rising in his throat.
The survivors on the other seven conveyor belts seemed long accustomed to such sights; they merely looked over instinctively at the sound of the gunshot, none of them showing any shock over Edmond's gruesome demise or the tentacles.
As for the other seven inspectors, they were frighteningly nonchalant—not one had even turned their head at the gunfire.
If anyone at the entire scene needed to be calmed down, it was probably just this inspector who had only transmigrated two months ago.
...