The Gang
The truck rattled to a stop by the roadside.
A middle-aged man with black hair, a woman, a Black man, and a blond man.
They jumped out of the truck and started moving the makeshift roadblocks.
Gu Qingshan watched them work with cold eyes, still undecided.
He realized that these four were the only ones moving things. No one from the town had come out to help.
That was a little strange.
Judging from the pictures in the newspapers, this world seemed to be facing some kind of biological mutation crisis and heading toward the apocalypse.
You'd think that when a truck returned at a time like this, the people in town would keep watch and inspect it. At the very least, their desire for food and information should have brought a few people out to take a look.
But in reality, not a single person appeared.
Leaning against the wall, Gu Qingshan silently watched them move the roadblocks.
They were very practiced, as if they did this often.
After a while, perhaps tired from moving things, the middle-aged black-haired man with a rifle on his back panted and called out, "I never want to move these roadblocks again. Or maybe someone could help me find a few more survivors."
The Black man said seriously, "Don't joke around. Without these roadblocks, we'd all be done for."
"All we can do now is pray to God that we find a few survivors on our future searches and can add to our numbers," the blond man said.
As they chatted, their hands gradually stopped moving.
The sun had sunk lower, and the temperature had dropped considerably.
With nightfall just around the corner, the three men and the woman gathered together and ducked into the shade beside the truck, lighting cigarettes