A black figure ran wildly through the streets, surrounded by the neon lights of the night, and the air was filled with cries for help and wails of pain. These voices seemed to come from hell, helpless lonely howls, piercing through the night, like sharp knives, stabbing him fiercely in the heart.

"Quick, help me!"

"Please, save the children!"

"Don't run! Come back and save us, give us a hand! Just one handful. “

He finally couldn't help it, and looked back with pity to see these helpless people, and suddenly caught a glimpse of the scene behind him, which suddenly made his heart half cold. As far as the eye can see, there are only empty roads, street lamps with yellow shimmers, and the neon of tall buildings in the distance. There was no sign of a figure at all, and as for those calls for help, it seemed to come out of nowhere. On the early summer night, he couldn't help but shiver, and cold sweat soaked his clothes.

The scolding became more and more dense and noisy, and exploded in his heart one by one. He ran faster and faster with all his strength. Suddenly, all the lights under the eyes went out, and the whole city returned to the original darkness. The shouting and scolding came to an abrupt end with the sleeping city, like a miniature urban sand table, which was suddenly drained of power.

All that was left was his heavy breathing, the heavy sound of shoddy leather boots on the ground. His steps slowed down gradually, and he moved cautiously step by step. I don't know how long it took, but he heard a loud bang, and he seemed to sense something in the darkness.

In the next second, a huge crack opened in the ground, deeper and deeper, the stratum lit up, and the scarlet liquid, like tumbling red magma, seemed to have a huge suction, throwing him into it all at once. The drooping gravity and attraction added it, and it fell straight into this blood-red scene.

With a buzz, he sat up suddenly, and a few cold sweats were still running down his head. The crisp ticking of the old clock echoed throughout the room. "Damn," he cursed in a low voice, and Smeared touched a cigarette from the side of the bed, and he took a hard puff, the dark red firelight reflected in his eyes, and the faint light of the cigarette illuminated half of the room. Of course, if an old desk and a bed with a few old newspapers and a convenience store with an abandoned energy charging station were enough to call the room.

This is the fifth time Wu Liao has repeated this nightmare, falling in the darkness in the glowing magma pool, the realism of falling into the abyss, every time he can successfully startle him into a cold sweat. Wu Liao pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to ease his rapidly beating heart, and exhaled heavily.

This is a small county town with only one street, and the small charging station where Wu Liao lives is located at the end of the road. The sky was covered with yellowish dust, and the color of the sky was a little dim. Although the street is only about seven or eight hundred meters long, it is difficult to see the scene at the corner of the street.

The streets are a dilapidated apocalyptic scene, with only the occasional wind blowing mixed with a few pieces of scrap paper falling in the air. The low-flying vehicles at the traffic lights staggered and fell to the ground nearby, and these low-flying vehicles that had lost energy and lift were like silent soldiers, showing no signs of moving at all. On both sides of the road are buildings with their roofs cut off, as if they were the kind of densely populated residential buildings of the sixties and seventies of the ancient century, with the occasional few restaurants sandwiched between them, and the contents of which have long since become a pile of debris scattered on the ground.

The town, with the exception of the infirmary and the charging station, was shattered, as if it had been the subject of some fierce battle. It was like an empty city, and there wasn't even a single figure except him.

In his memory, it was the twentieth day he had been here, and the hologram screen at the door of the small pharmacy had become a shard of glass. Fortunately, there is also a broken blackboard with four orthography drawn on it. He woke up with that nightmare, the blood on his head couldn't stop flowing, and he always thought that he should have been smashed by some heavy object and lost his memory.

The iron plate hanging on his body had the word "Wu Liao" written on it, and since then he has called himself Wu Liao. In the past twenty days, he has tried to pry open the doors of several households, and in addition to the thick dust everywhere, it is much more comfortable than the charging station, but he always felt that there was an eerie feeling in the deserted residential building, so he simply moved to the convenience store of the charging station, at least there was enough food on the shelves for his stomach.

Here, he found a broken clock, and called it forty-five, and every time he looked at the forty-five scales on the clock, he always had an inexplicable sense of disobedience.

Wu Liao wrapped his clothes tightly, and the bleak autumn wind made him shiver. As usual, in the middle of the day, I let out the wind in the streets, and I still have the old clock with half of the tin sheet tied to my waist.

He staggered to the small pharmacy across the street, feeling a tingling in his head. He reached out and wiped the yellowed mirror, dusted it off, and leaned over to the mirror. "It's time to change gauze again." Wu Liao muttered to himself. He removed the reddened gauze from his head, half of the wound had scabbed, and a few more traces of bright red were oozing from the other side.

With a cigarette in his mouth, he expertly unscrewed the purple potion in front of the mirror and gently dipped some of it. With a "hiss", Wu Liao gasped, and then quickly wrapped the gauze around his head. After treating the wound, Wu Liao really couldn't suppress this gloomy feeling, so he walked to the traffic light on the corner of the street. In the lifeless town, the only thing that makes him feel his existence is the constantly beating traffic light, and looking at the beating numbers here has become the only activity where he feels his presence every day.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven..." Wu Liao counted down silently in his mouth.

With a loud bang, a huge white dust was smashed out of the ground, and the air wave generated by the strong impact force instantly overturned Wu Liao, who was sitting on the road teeth, and rolled on the ground several times in a row.

"Damn, what's the situation!" Wu Liao shouted loudly, and he patted the dust all over his body when he just got up. The blue-gray pavement was covered with cracked fine lines, and the rubble kicked up by the impact fell all over the ground. The area of impact was near the town's only traffic light, and the steel bracket was not spared from the impact, breaking into several sections and scattering on the ground. The connection of the port is also sputtered with blue electric light. The dust had dissipated a little from the east wind, but it still enveloped the area.

Wu Liao only felt that this side was familiar, as if it was a scene in a dream. The ground cracked suddenly, and the foundation slammed down, revealing scarlet lava and wielding the scythe of death. His heart was beating fiercely, desperately suppressing the fear of escaping in his heart, and moving forward step by step. It was the first time in twenty days that he had encountered something unusual in this uninhabited town.

The smoke formed by the dust did not last long under the action of the east wind, and the ground was smashed into a large crater nearly five meters square. At the bottom of the pit were three white balls, which did not seem to be infected by the slightest bit of dust. Rounded, smooth, and warmly reflecting the faint sunlight, the spheres seem to have formed naturally, without the slightest hint of artificiality.