Mazatlán was one of Mexico's most famous tourist cities. Its beautiful beaches and two coastal breakwaters brought a steady stream of visitors to the city.
At the same time, compared with cities plagued by terrible public security, Mazatlán was one of Mexico's rare high-security cities, in order to ensure the safety and numbers of its tourists.
Yet now, this prosperous port and tourist city looked utterly deserted. Other than the few vehicles parked by the roadside, there was not a single car on the streets.
Pedestrians were pitifully scarce. After passing several streets, they had only seen two or three people in total, all elderly folk near death, sorrowfully examining their hometown.
Many shops bore signs of having been pried open, their interiors a complete mess.
Newspapers and debris swept up by the autumn wind spun through the streets, adding even more desolation to the scene.
The entire city showed no signs of infection whatsoever.
The roar of the Hummer echoed through the empty city.
"Indeed, if there are no people left, there's no such thing as infection..."
Looking outside, Xu Yue muttered meaningfully to himself.
"Boss, where are we supposed to find the truck you want? Also, we passed several stores and found that someone seemed to be deliberately collecting food and other necessities. They were all empty."
Carlos, seated in the passenger seat, turned back to ask Xu Yue in the rear.
"They should be people from the Peacekeeping Forces. Since Mazatlán is specifically a place for relocating refugee survivors, they should have established corresponding camps here. It's normal for them to gather usable supplies in advance."
Xu Yue spoke casually. Mazatlán had both a port and an airport, and either location was suitable for establishing a quarantine camp.
"There should be plenty of container trucks at the