"Head, where are you?"
"Head, answer us quickly! We came to help you..."
"Little Lu Brother, are you all right?"
From far away, panicked and concerned shouts rang out, mixed with the roar of motorcycle engines, scattered gunshots, and the howls of some madmen like wild beasts.
At the end of the long street, behind the thin mist, a row of indistinct figures appeared. A group of seasoned motorcycle riders came searching toward the end of the ruined street, shouting all the way.
When they saw the scene at the end of the street, every one of them sucked in a sharp breath.
What they saw was a bloody mess covering the ground.
Fragments of unidentified flesh covered dozens of meters of pavement, resembling an abstract oil painting of performance art.
With this oil painting at the center, the surrounding steel, trees, and plastic pipes all bore obvious signs of distortion.
Even the ground was marked with long scratches, as if something sharp and solid had scraped across it.
At one side of the oil painting, their head, Sister Gao, was sitting dazed on the ground. Both hands rested on her knees, and all ten fingers were twisted unnaturally, as if someone had brutally snapped them. Her expression was filled with a dazed emptiness.
"Head, are you all right?"
"Head, what happened to your hands? How did they become like this?"
The seasoned riders hurriedly jumped off their motorcycles and crowded around her, shouting in alarm.
Old Zhou also called out worriedly, "Where's Little Lu Brother? Is he all right?"
"I'm fine!"
Lu Xin's reply came from an empty room not far away, though his voice sounded somewhat dispirited.
Old Zhou hurried over to the room and saw that it had once been a shop. The large window near the