A Mermaid’s Guide to Survival in the Apocalypse – CH6

Chapter 6: The Mermaid’s Eyes

“Where are you going?” Mi Dou asked. He was so feverish and weak that he could barely make out Xia Yu’s words.

“I have to go outside. I need to find nutrients for Mo An, medicine for you, and…” Xia Yu’s stomach gave a loud, empty growl. “Something to fill my belly.”

Outside?

Mi Dou’s eyes fluttered shut again.

He knew just how dangerous it was out there. The world above had turned into pure hell. People were dying everywhere. He wondered how his mother was doing, and an ache gripped his chest. He wanted to go home so badly…

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he suddenly felt someone tugging at his legs.

Mi Dou forced his eyes back open. “What are you… doing?”

“Taking off your shoes. I need them if I’m going up there…” Xia Yu sat on the cold floor and pulled with all his might until both shoes came off. “We’re about the same size, so they should fit.”

He couldn’t afford to run around barefoot again. The streets would be far worse after the aerial bombardment, covered in jagged glass and sharp metal scrap. If he got hurt again, there would be nobody left to save Mo An or Mi Dou.

With that thought driving him, he squeezed his feet into the snug sneakers. His cold toes curled tightly against the front, but at least they offered warmth and real protection.

“I’m going now. Can you promise me something?” Xia Yu’s voice shook with worry.

Mi Dou had barely enough strength to draw breath, but he managed a faint nod, his small bear ears flattening against his messy curls. “Okay.”

“No matter what happens, you have to watch over Mo An.” Xia Yu trembled as he spoke, pointing toward the corner. “That egg over there. His name is Mo An. He’s an aberrant species—a mermaid. You have to keep him safe.”

“Okay,” Mi Dou whispered, his eyes drifting shut.

“And if… if I don’t come back, you have to wait until someone comes down to help. Then take Mo An somewhere safe, and… when you get the chance, take him back to the ocean.”

By the time he finished speaking, Xia Yu’s tongue felt dry and clumsy with fear. He had no idea if he would survive this trip. But if he died up there, at least he had entrusted Mo An to another soul.

Mi Dou was a mutant, just like him. He wouldn’t look down on an aberrant creature. Perhaps Mi Dou would survive and keep that tiny ember of hope alive. If Xia Yu couldn’t make it to the end, he wanted someone else to finish the journey.

And if Mo An ever hatched, Xia Yu hoped the mermaid might remember him somewhere in his thoughts—a clumsy little jellyfish who loved to sing.

Steeling himself, Xia Yu spun around and walked out.

It took immense courage for a child to leave the only safe shelter he had found. With every step he took down the corridor, his teeth chattered from nerves. He had no clue what was waiting for him above.

The sewer tunnel ran on into the gloom. Cold water dripped steadily from the ceiling, and rust covered nearly every surface. Everything felt foreign. Back at the institute, the floors were always spotless, cleaned around the clock by automated scrubbers. Now, for the first time, an honest picture of the real world began to form in his young mind.

Some corners were full of shining, advanced machines. Others were ancient, filthy, and broken. The contrast was shocking.

Still, none of that truly mattered. Safety was the only thing that counted.

Xia Yu quickened his pace, his heart hammering against his ribs. Could this ruined world really be saved? Why had Professor Wang asked a weak kid like him to save it?

[You have arrived,] Jingwei’s voice chimed from the band.

Xia Yu stopped in his tracks and looked up. Concrete walls boxed him in on both sides. Straight above his head sat a circular manhole, with a bent metal ladder fixed to the stone below it.

This was the spot.

Xia Yu did not dare waste a second. He placed a sneaker onto the lowest rung and began to climb.

He had never climbed a ladder before. With his clumsy balance, even staying upright was a struggle. Twice, his hands slipped on the greasy metal, and he nearly tumbled backward.

[Exercise caution,] Jingwei warned.

“I’m trying… it’s just really hard,” Xia Yu puffed under his breath.

It took him several minutes of awkward scrambling to reach the top. He pushed the heavy iron cover up with his right hand—only to discover that it didn’t open onto the street. Another ladder rose above it, stretching even higher toward the surface.

[Continue ascending. Watch your footing. The drop is significant.]

Whenever Jingwei spoke, her voice sounded flat and cold. Xia Yu found himself missing Professor Wang’s gentle smile. But since there was no other way, he gripped the cold rungs tighter and pulled himself up.

He kept his eyes glued upward, terrified that looking down would make his head spin. To keep the fear from freezing him in place, he hummed his little song under his breath, letting the tune carry him forward.

At last, he reached the second manhole cover. He braced his shoulders against the metal and shoved it open.

A patch of dull gray-blue sky appeared above him.

Why was the sky such an odd color? Had he been older, he would have known that the haze came from clouds of concrete dust and burning debris thrown up by the explosions.

The pavement was littered with shattered brick and jagged glass. Xia Yu breathed a sigh of relief when he looked down at his sneakers. Without shoes, his bare feet would have been torn to shreds within paces.

Stepping out onto the street felt like entering another world entirely.

Xia Yu stayed low, creeping along the walls in a deep crouch.

“Jingwei, are you there? You’re not tricking me, right?”

[Look to your left,] the AI replied. Jingwei seemed to understand that Xia Yu had no sense of cardinal directions, using simple landmarks instead.

Xia Yu turned his head.

A row of tall vending machines stood against a wall, their display lights still glowing faintly through the dust that coated the glass panels.

Medicine!

Xia Yu scuttled over like a frightened mouse. The glass fronts were cracked and spiderwebbed. Wiping a sleeve across the grime, he peered through to read the glowing labels.

“Vitamin C, vitamin B, Omega-3… what does all this do?”

[They are dietary supplements,] Jingwei explained. [I recommend taking some. Your immune profile is significantly compromised.]

“I’m not weak! I’m really tough,” Xia Yu muttered defensively.

Even so, he carefully worked his hand through a jagged hole in the glass, watching out for sharp edges as he seized a plastic bottle of vitamin C. He yanked it free and shoved it deep into the pocket of his hospital gown.

He wondered if the research institute had survived the self-destruct countdown—no, focus! This was not the time to daydream.

Xia Yu pulled his thoughts back and peered behind the row of machines. Just as Jingwei had said, an energy dispensary stood tucked in the back alley.

He kept low, making himself as small as possible so the gunships circling high above wouldn’t spot him. The distant hum of their engines still vibrated through the air; the patrol had not cleared out completely.

The pharmacy doors had already been blown inward by a blast, allowing Xia Yu to slip through the twisted frame with ease. He had never been inside an ordinary store before.

“How do I find the medicine? Jingwei, tell me!” He had already learned to lean on the AI for guidance.

A cracked security dome mounted above swung downward, its lens scanning him from head to toe.

[Proceed to aisle four. The necessary medical supplies are stocked on those shelves.]

Aisle four…

Xia Yu crept forward, checking the overhead placards as he went. Even though the doors had been blasted open, nobody had raided the place yet. He guessed that most survivors were hiding in basements just like him. There had to be so many wounded people across the city, all needing these very supplies.

He darted forward in quick bursts, pausing at every corner to make sure no patrol bots were lurking before moving ahead. Because of his caution, it took several minutes just to reach the fourth row.

When he finally rounded the shelf, the sheer variety of boxes and bottles made his head spin.

Mi Dou has a fever.

Mo An needs food.

He repeated the two thoughts like a mantra.

Standing on his tiptoes, he began scanning the labels. Thankfully, he had read plenty of medical books in the laboratory library, so deciphering the names was easy enough.

He found plenty of fever reducers and broad-spectrum antibiotics, but only a single vial of nutrient serum remained on the rack.

Spotting an empty canvas tote on the floor, Xia Yu quickly shoved the supplies inside.

“Jingwei, there’s only one nutrient injection here! What do I do?”

[Secure the unit immediately. That compound is of high clinical value.]

“Okay. I’ll take it back right away. I can’t let Mo An starve.” The thought of the little mermaid dying of hunger brought tears to his eyes.

He turned to leave, but froze. The ceiling camera followed his movement, tracking him silently.

Xia Yu rushed to another shelf, grabbing rolls of sterile bandages and a bottle of disinfectant before finally darting out of the store.

Only after he cleared the doorway did he remember the food dispenser outside. In his frantic search for medicine, he had completely forgotten about his own empty stomach. Food was just as important right now!

[Xia Yu, accelerate your pace,] Jingwei warned.

“I know! I’m just getting some bread rolls and then I’m going straight down!”

He hurried to the food machine and began scooping packages into his bag. The glass was broken, exposing rows of individually wrapped buns. He grabbed the ones nearest the front, but midway through stuffing the bag, he suddenly stopped, as if snapping awake from a trance.

“That’s enough. I’m heading back now.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder and crouched down, ready to scurry back to the shaft.

[The immediate area remains secure,] Jingwei observed, sounding genuinely puzzled. [Collect the remaining rations.]

Xia Yu had already reached the manhole. There was no time to explain. He hauled the heavy iron disc aside, slid down the shaft, and only let out a breath once the cover clanged firmly back into place above his head.

Then, he began his slow descent down the rungs.

[Why did you leave the remaining food?] Jingwei inquired through the band.

Xia Yu finally answered, his voice soft. “Because… what if someone else comes looking for food later? The rolls are really good. I can’t just take everything for myself…”

The line went silent for a few seconds.

[Your intent is benevolent,] Jingwei said slowly. [However, you must acquire self-interest, particularly in this environment. In survival scenarios, selfishness functions as self-preservation. You must learn this.]

For a brief second, the artificial voice sounded almost soft.

Almost.

Then that warmth vanished, replaced once again by cold, neutral calculation. It reminded Xia Yu of the researchers back home; they would smile at him occasionally, but their smiles always vanished in the blink of an eye, returning to cold professionalism.

The only ones who had ever been truly gentle with him were Professor Wang… and Nuwa.

Nuwa was an AI too, but she had always shown far more warmth. She had never lectured him about being selfish.

“Jingwei, do you know Nuwa?” Xia Yu asked, unable to keep the question in any longer as he neared the bottom of the ladder.

He desperately wanted to know where she had gone. If Nuwa were still in charge, the world wouldn’t have descended into this nightmare. She would never have allowed the machines to attack people; she would have protected everyone.

[Negative,] Jingwei replied evenly. [I have no record of Nuwa.]

Her answer dashed his hopes. Nuwa was truly gone.

Xia Yu dropped onto the sewer floor. With shoes on, he could run much faster now, his footsteps splashing lightly through the shallow run-off.

“Please wait for me,” he whispered as he sprinted back through the tunnel. “Both of you, please be okay. Don’t die. I brought medicine and sweet bread. I can fix everything now.”

He genuinely believed it. In his simple worldview, food and medicine were enough to cure every trouble.

When he finally burst into the maintenance alcove, Mi Dou had slipped completely into unconsciousness. His bear ears felt cold to the touch, and his dirt-caked hand still clutched Xia Yu’s makeshift iron bar, even in his stupor.

[Administer the antipyretic immediately,] Jingwei instructed.

“I’m doing it!”

Xia Yu popped open the blister pack and pushed the pills between Mi Dou’s lips. Without water, he had to use a small finger to gently guide the tablets down the back of the boy’s throat until he swallowed by reflex.

Next, he uncapped the antiseptic and poured it over the torn shoulder. The raw crater was packed with grime and dried blood; Xia Yu washed away the grit, applied the soothing ointment, and wrapped the joint securely in clean white gauze.

With no bed in the damp room, he laid Mi Dou flat on a dry patch of concrete, letting him rest. Survival now depended on the boy’s own strength.

“Now… it’s Mo An’s turn!”

Giving himself a small cheer, Xia Yu reached into the bag and pulled out the precious nutrient syringe.

He had never administered an injection before, but he had watched the laboratory doctors do it hundreds of times. Following his memory, he tore open the sterile wrap and tapped the barrel, pressing the plunger slightly to bleed the air bubbles from the tip.

[Proceed with caution,] Jingwei advised.

“I know. I’ll be super careful.”

Xia Yu knelt before the large egg and gently brushed his fingers over the scuffed surface.

The moment the needle pierced the pale blue membrane, his breath caught in his throat. He had just punctured the shell with his own hands; did Mo An feel it? Would it hurt?

Wanting to get it over with, he depressed the plunger steadily, emptying the nutrient solution into the fluid before quickly slipping the needle out.

As the dense, milky fluid drifted through the amniotic liquid, Xia Yu finally let out a trembling sigh.

“There. Now you won’t starve.”

He leaned close to inspect the tiny puncture mark.

“A little poke like that shouldn’t hurt… here, I’ll blow on it for you.”

Xia Yu leaned in and softly blew cool air against the prick mark.

He had pushed himself to the absolute limit. He didn’t even have the energy left to tear open a bread package for himself. As he blew on the shell, he rested his tired forehead against the cool membrane, letting his eyes close for a moment to rest.

Through the translucent layer, he watched Mo An floating inside.

He really did look like a little boy.

Wait…

Had Mo An’s ear-fins always been this long?

Xia Yu blinked, staring closely. In the research lab, he had only ever seen the egg submerged inside a thick glass tank filled with murky water. He had never been able to inspect it from inches away.

Now, with nothing separating them except a thin, clear wall, he could see that the boy’s ears were entirely unlike anything human or mutant.

“Mo An? Can you hear me? It’s Xia Yu… I got you out of the lab.”

Xia Yu lightly tapped the shell with a finger. He wasn’t truly expecting an answer; after all, the egg had stayed silent for four whole years.

Yet the moment his words faded, the figure within the fluid turned toward him.

The rapid fluttering beneath Mo An’s eyelids ceased.

Light flooded into his world.

Mo An opened his eyes.

For the very first time, he saw the world outside the shell.

And he saw the little jellyfish who had talked to him every single day—the one who never ran out of things to say.

Mo An had opened his eyes years ahead of schedule, long before a mermaid juvenile was supposed to wake.

Even the protective tear film across his eyes had not yet fully formed.

A Mermaid’s Guide to Survival in the Apocalypse