A Mermaid’s Guide to Survival in the Apocalypse – CH5

Chapter 5: He’ll Starve to Death

Xia Yu could feel his whole body shaking.

Thanks to his remarkable healing factor, his broken left ankle had already completely mended. His skin had returned to its natural pale tone as well, and every red, stinging mark left by the acid rain was gone.

Yet once again, he stood at a crossroads, forced to make an impossible choice. For a frightened child like him, it was simply too hard.

His first choice was to stay tucked inside the small metal dumpster and never step outside, except to crawl out briefly each day to forage for food. He and Mo An could turn this dark box into a temporary shelter. They had already managed to evade the triangular-headed scout once. As long as they stayed dead quiet, the machines might never search this corner again.

His second choice was to leave this shelter, risk getting spotted, sprint hundreds of meters down the open street, locate a coded hatch, unlock it, and dive into the sewer system.

Xia Yu had no idea what was happening on the streets now. It was bound to be crawling with danger.

Worse still was his suspicion of Jingwei. It had to be another artificial intelligence, just like Nuwa. Yet Xia Yu had never heard the name mentioned even once. As far as he knew, Nuwa was the sole core system overseeing the entire civilized world.

Who was Jingwei? Was it friendly or hostile? Was it only pretending to help so it could lure him out into the open and eliminate him?

Jingwei’s voice came through the band again: [Xia Yu, you must leave. Take Mo An with you. Hurry!]

Even through the calm synthetic tone, Xia Yu could hear an urgent edge.

“Who are you? Why should I trust you?” he demanded, his voice trembling. “How do you even know my name? The machines are slaughtering people out there! Why should I believe a word you say?”

It made sense. An artificial intelligence and the hunter robots were made of the same cold logic. Neither had a living heart, and both were butchering real humans.

Almost by pure instinct, Xia Yu chose to stay put. His body shrank back into the fragile safety of the dumpster.

[Leave now. Hurry!] Jingwei urged.

“You’re lying!” Anger flared in his chest, hot and desperate. “You machines don’t just murder people—you tell lies, too! You’re just trying to trick me into walking right into their sights. I know your trick! There aren’t even any robots nearby. I can’t hear a thing! There’s nothing out there—”

[You must trust me. In this moment, I am the only ally you have left. Professor Wang Qin gave you that access band herself. Perhaps that is the answer you need.]

Wang Qin… Professor Wang?

The moment he heard her name, the fiery panic in Xia Yu’s chest chilled into quiet shock.

[Professor Wang would never deceive you. Neither will I. Please, take Mo An and leave at once.]

The system sounded more pressed with every second.

Xia Yu felt as though he were being pulled apart. Putting his faith in an unknown artificial intelligence was terrifyingly reckless. Yet Jingwei knew Professor Wang had handed him the device before she died.

His heart thudded against his ribs. He knew he had to leave his little sanctuary.

Moving with the utmost care, he pushed open the lid and climbed down onto the damp pavement. His thin surgical gown hung in ragged tatters. The alley around him remained eerily still, with no visible sign of the impending purge.

Holding his breath, Xia Yu caught the sleeves of the bloody lab coat and hauled the heavy bundle over the edge, hoisting it onto his back once more. Perhaps because he was so weak with hunger, Mo An felt twice as heavy as before.

“Which way is west?” he whispered.

Jingwei replied immediately, [Connecting to municipal traffic cameras… I have visual on your position, Xia Yu. Run straight ahead. The avenue is currently clear of hostile units. Your time is running out.]

Straight ahead was west.

Did he truly have to run again?

Xia Yu stared at the dirty pools of rainwater on the asphalt, bit his dry lip, and forced his legs into motion. He pushed himself so hard the color drained from his face. Even though Jingwei claimed the path was clear, he refused to let his guard down. He took great care to dodge every puddle; the caustic traces of the acid rain were still lingering on the ground.

Huff. Huff.

Huff. Huff.

He had never done physical exercise in his life, and his energy gave out quickly. His desperate sprint slowed to a rapid march. Then, little by little, the march dragged down into a weary trudge.

[Increase your pace. Do not stop to rest.]

“I know… but I’m so hungry,” Xia Yu whimpered, tears stinging his eyes. “My stomach hurts so much from being empty.”

An artificial intelligence never needed food. How could a computer know what starvation felt like?

The words had barely left his lips when a massive explosion ripped through the air three or four hundred meters behind him.

The boom shook the ground under his feet.

It was the dumpster. The exact container where he and Mo An had slept only minutes before had been blown to scrap.

Xia Yu froze, cold dread gripping his throat. If they had stayed inside, they would have been shredded into bloody pulp by now.

Jingwei had told the truth. A methodical sweep was scouring the city streets.

[Aerial units! Hunter drones are sweeping the thoroughfare!] Jingwei’s warning broke through his shock.

The gunships had not reached his block yet. He still had a slim window to slip away.

Xia Yu spun back around. Hunger vanished from his mind, replaced by a single, desperate instinct: Run!

He had to get his little fish to safety.

His thoughts cleared of everything else as his bare feet hammered the concrete in a race against death. He had already seen those aircraft overhead—they drifted in swarms too thick to count, and they struck with terrible speed.

Faster. Move faster!

The mechanical hum was right on his heels.

Xia Yu had no idea how far he sprinted; he simply hurled himself forward in a straight line. The shrill whine of jet turbines grew louder by the second, a nightmare closing the distance from the rear.

Finally, a rusted steel door came into view along the base of a concrete retaining wall. Whether it was the right hatch or not, he sprinted straight for it.

Jingwei’s voice cut through the band: [The access code is 0901.]

Loose gravel littered the approach. Xia Yu caught his foot and tumbled hard against the ground. He had no time to check for scrapes; he scrambled up onto his knees and lunged at the keypad.

The buttons had been badly eaten away by previous acid storms, the numbers faded to faint outlines. Squinting through the grime, his shaking fingers punched in the four digits: 0-9-0-1.

The lock clicked, and the heavy door unsealed.

Another thunderous blast erupted behind him, throwing up heat and shockwaves. Xia Yu did not look back to see what had been obliterated. He dragged Mo An through the threshold and threw his entire body against the door, slamming it shut.

A fraction of a second later, the bombardment swept across the outer wall.

The concussion hit like an earthquake, feeling as though the very foundation of the street were being ripped apart. Xia Yu was slammed backward into the concrete wall, and then both he and the heavy egg went tumbling down a steep spiral staircase.

The world spun around him. Everything smeared into dizzy streaks of gray and black. The violent rumble from above left his ears ringing so fiercely that the entire world seemed to go silent.

He might have blacked out for a few moments. His limbs felt leaden, his head dull and throbbing. All he knew was that the stairs seemed endless, and they had rolled all the way to the cold stone floor at the bottom.

He had no idea how much time slipped by before the ringing in his ears began to subside.

Xia Yu blinked his eyes open. A dim, warm yellow glow drifted across his vision—the maintenance lights of the sewer corridor. That faint yellow glow brought a strange, quiet comfort.

The wristband had gone completely silent. Perhaps the impact of the fall had broken it.

Xia Yu lay on the damp ground for several minutes before gathering enough strength to push himself upright.

His very first thought was to check Mo An.

The large egg remained wrapped inside the lab coat. It had bounced down the stone steps with him, absorbing much of the force in his place. A few deep scuffs and scrapes marked the smooth, translucent membrane.

Xia Yu gently stroked the damaged spots with a dirty palm, his eyes welling with fresh tears.

“I’m sorry… you keep getting hurt because of me.”

He hated how weak he was. He was not fast, he was not strong, and he did not even have a proper weapon to fight back. Professor Wang had trusted him with this precious life, and he had already let it get bruised.

“Once I catch my breath, I’ll find some medicine for you,” he whispered, pressing his dusty cheek against the shell. His tears soaked into the damp fabric.

The purge continued to rumble high above. Every few moments, the stone ceiling shuddered, raining dust down over his hair and shoulders.

After resting his tired legs, he decided they needed to move deeper into the tunnels. This landing was still too close to the surface hatch.

Xia Yu hoisted the egg back onto his shoulders. He did not feel quite as terrified as before; at least down here, they had thick concrete overhead, and he knew Jingwei was looking out for them.

The sewer tunnel was roughly as tall and broad as the hallways back at the research lab, though much darker. Every time the earth rumbled overhead, the stone beneath his bare feet shook as well.

The subtle vibrations passed through the shell, causing Mo An’s delicate pelvic fins to flutter weakly, though the merboy still lacked the strength to part his lids.

“I’m a little jellyfish…” Xia Yu hummed under his breath as he walked, using the melody to keep the fear at bay.

After following the winding corridor for several dozen paces, he rounded a bend and froze.

A faint, broken whimper reached his ears.

“Help me… please, help…”

“Who’s there?” Xia Yu slipped the bundle from his back in an instant, planting himself firmly in front of the egg. He drew the rusted metal bar from his pocket, holding it out with both hands.

“Who… who is it? I-I’m really strong! I’ll hit you!”

“Don’t hurt me… please don’t hurt me,” the weak voice pleaded.

Xia Yu listened closely. His clumsy threat would never have fooled a grown-up, but it was enough to frighten another child.

A small figure crawled out from a gap in the damaged wall. The boy looked about Xia Yu’s age, caked in soot and dust from head to toe. A ragged wound the size of an adult’s palm was torn open across his right shoulder, and a dark pool of blood had formed beneath him.

He looked strikingly unusual. Two distinct shapes poked up from the messy curls on top of his head.

“Who are you?” Xia Yu asked, trying to sound fierce.

“My name… is Mi Dou,” the boy wheezed between shallow breaths. “I’m Mi Dou… please help me.”

Mi Dou?

Xia Yu had never heard such an ordinary, everyday name. The subjects back at the institute had always been given polished, formal designations.

He took a careful step closer, making sure the stranger was not a threat. Up close, the boy seemed even younger than him—perhaps only seven or eight.

“Are you… a mutant?” Xia Yu asked, slowly lowering his metal bar.

He could see them clearly now: two round, furry bear ears peeking through the boy’s curly hair.

Visible animal traits only showed up in genetically modified humans. When animal genes were spliced into human embryos, physical marks often remained behind. Human society viewed these traits as structural defects; a perfect genetic modification showed no outward difference from an ordinary person.

Mi Dou gave a weak nod.

When he looked at Xia Yu’s face, he recognized the signs immediately. Both of them carried altered genes. Both of them were considered imperfect rejects. That silent realization melted away the suspicion between them, replaced by a quiet, shared understanding.

Xia Yu tucked the metal bar away and lifted Mo An back up. He peered through the hole in the brickwork; Mi Dou had been lying near an alcove that looked like an old drainage control room. It was far more hidden than the main tunnel.

Xia Yu carried Mo An inside first, then helped the dazed boy through the breach before pulling the door firmly shut.

“What happened to you?” Xia Yu crouched down beside him. “My name is Xia Yu. I’m a little jellyfish.”

“I got separated from my mom. The road blew up, and I fell down here…” Mi Dou stared up at Xia Yu’s eyes. He had never seen irises like that before—they shimmered like pearlescent fish scales in the low light. “Where are we?”

“A sewer. I don’t know where it leads either,” Xia Yu admitted, sitting flat on the stone floor. “How did you fall down?”

Perhaps Mi Dou could explain what was happening on the surface. Xia Yu needed to understand the world above if he wanted to stay alive.

Mi Dou’s face was burning red, his breath coming in hot, ragged gasps.

“I… I was walking with my mom, and there was a loud roar. We looked up, and the flying machines started firing into the crowds. Then… transport bots came out and started attacking everyone.”

“So it’s happening everywhere,” Xia Yu murmured, nodding to himself. It was identical to what had happened in the institute. The machines had turned.

“My mom took my hand and ran. I was too slow, so I tripped…” Mi Dou’s voice grew thinner. “A bomb hit the street. The concrete cracked open, and I tumbled down here. The rubble covered the hole, and I couldn’t get back out.”

He looked down at his ruined shoulder. The flesh looked torn, like a jagged crater. “I think I’m going to die.”

Xia Yu had spent years observing clinical procedures in the lab, so he understood injuries well. But without tools, there was little he could do.

“You need a clean wrap and antiseptic,” Xia Yu said, pressing a cool hand to Mi Dou’s forehead. “And right now, your fever is terrible. You’re burning up.”

“No wonder I feel so dizzy,” Mi Dou mumbled.

Xia Yu looked at him with worry. “How long have you been here? The cut is already getting infected. We have to cool you down.”

Mi Dou shook his head faintly. “A day? Two days? I can’t remember… I kept passing out.”

His hazy eyes drifted toward the corner, catching sight of the large bundle wrapped in the stained lab coat. “Is that… medicine in there?”

Xia Yu seemed to protect it with his life; maybe it held supplies that could save them.

“It’s not medicine. That’s… my most important friend.” Xia Yu didn’t have the time to explain merfolk and aberrant biology. He was starving, and now he had another sick child to worry about.

Just then, the silver band on his arm flickered with light.

Xia Yu raised his wrist to his face before the voice even sounded.

[Signal restored… Xia Yu, are you unharmed?] Jingwei’s voice came through the speaker.

“I made it in. I’m in the sewer,” Xia Yu reported quickly. “I’m really hungry. And I found a little bear boy down here. He’s badly hurt and sick. What should I do?”

[Accessing regional utility schematics… maps retrieved.]

After a short pause, the AI continued: [If you proceed to the next maintenance shaft and climb to the surface level, you will locate an automated medical dispenser nearby. There is also a municipal ration vendor. You can secure food and basic medical supplies there.]

“What? Go back up to the surface?” Xia Yu shrank back immediately. The streets above were a slaughterhouse. He could be spotted and blown to pieces in seconds.

[Directly behind the vendors stands an auxiliary bio-pharmacy,] Jingwei noted steadily. [It stocks wound care supplies, as well as the specialized nutrient serums required by Mo An.]

“What?” Xia Yu’s heart skipped a beat.

[Mo An requires immediate metabolic supplementation. Current biological records indicate that aberrant aquatic species consume immense amounts of energy during maturation. Mo An currently requires approximately five thousand calories per day. If he does not receive adequate intake, cellular collapse will occur.]

Xia Yu swallowed hard, asking in a trembling voice, “What does that mean?”

[It means that without the nutrient injections, he will starve to death.]

Once again, Xia Yu found himself trapped between two terrifying paths.

He hesitated for only a second before tightening his small hand around the iron rod and standing up straight.

“Don’t lie to me…” he said, his voice shaking with resolve. “I-I’ll go.”

A Mermaid’s Guide to Survival in the Apocalypse