Ling Ling choked on a cough as she cracked the window open, the acrid air from the street burning her lungs. She leaned closer to the others and whispered, "Why don't they just drive out these Mexicans?"
Xiao Hei felt a bit embarrassed under their stares. He carefully snuffed out his cigarette against the dashboard, clamping the half-burned filter between his ear and his head before saying, "Hey, whether they're arms dealers or the middle-class noble families, they all need those Mexicans as cannon fodder, slaves, even as food for livestock when necessary. They're all rations, you know. I have heard the higher-ups are running some terrifying experiments—human trials or something—so every day about a hundred Mexicans disappear. Isn't that normal?"
They were soon approaching the underground black market Xiao Hei had mentioned, but first, the truck rattled through the slums.
Jing Shu sat in the truck, her gaze fixed on the pitch-black, filthy mess sliding past the window. The polarization in America was disastrous, a stark reality that was totally different from what she had imagined. It looked like getting supplies and food wouldn't be easy. A lot of the resources were clearly guarded with heavy firepower; otherwise, those people wouldn't still be alive now.
Robbing wasn't an option. From what Xiao Hei babbled on about, America's strategic food reserves and the stocks held by the major grain merchants would be enough to feed the country for ten more years. That was only because exports were cut off before the apocalypse hit and crops were grown during it.
America also wasn't short of oil. Secretly, they had fought small countries and grabbed a massive amount of fuel. But now, with the civil war over and the country reunited, that oil has been divided among the governments and warlords.
The ordinary people, though, don't get to see a drop of it.
She couldn't help but admire developed countries. Before the apocalypse, they wasted energy at many times what they used. But what can you do? When you have so much stuff, even in the third year of the end times, and the supplies are still this abundant and held tightly by the military and grain merchants—it's really something to envy.
She was looking forward to Yang Yang's plan to have them bring the supplies themselves. She just had no idea how he was going to pull it off.
"Look, this place is the slum where I live. It's where you will be staying these days," Xiao Hei said, pointing a dirty finger toward rows of low houses outside. Some were temporary shacks made of rusted steel sheets; some were century-old dilapidated buildings, and others were so old they looked ready to collapse into the mud.
Everything was broken down and filthy, with a stench that made the air thick and suffocating.
The so-called slums were originally two rows of small villas on both sides of the road, but after the flood left people homeless, many broken shacks and huts were added. The surrounding area was covered in green algae stains from years of rain erosion, with huge bugs crawling openly across the damp walls.
The place was dirtier and messier than a newly built housing block in China. Houses sat so close they touched, with hollow, watchful eyes peeking out from the shadows of the doorways.
Ling Ling showed a scared expression, her shoulders hunching. "Can't we live somewhere else? I saw lots of empty houses on the way."
Besides the city center, America only had scattered small one- or two-story villas because of its vast land and low population. But after the flood in the second year, most were destroyed, filled with mud, sand, and bugs, making them extremely dangerous.
Xiao Hei shrugged and explained the reason before adding, "Hey, in the city center, you cute angels won't be allowed in without their permits. You would just be low-class slaves. Only 'official mercenaries' are allowed to live near the black market underground, so you have got to finish the mercenary test quickly if you want to move out of the slums.
The villas on both sides of the slums are nice—but damn it, better not live in them. There's no legal protection, and once you pay the rent, you will easily get targeted."
America was always a dangerous place no matter where you went.
Meanwhile, Yang Yang tenderly held the ID in his hand. He led the moving Monk, a confused Hao Yunlai, and the expressionless Zhen Nantian to the busiest part of the city. They soaked up American culture, watching stylishly dressed women throw flirtatious glances at them. The Monk scratched his head, his brow furrowing. Did the lady want to say something to him?
Hao Yunlai couldn't help but marvel; America is great and mighty. Even in the apocalypse, the whole city was still lit up bright and looked beautiful. He even caught the smell of roasted chicken—so good. Plus, lots of pretty girls were batting their eyes at him. Were they into this Asian cutie?
"Then let's start showing our strength here. But first, let's enjoy America's luxurious life."
Meanwhile, broken-looking women with barely-grown hair dressed in rags kept batting their eyes at the truck. They looked like scary aliens, trying to get the attention of the guys inside. The few men watching the scene almost jumped out of their skins. Just then, a man handed some half-black bread to one woman and pulled her away. What happened next was a done deal.
As the truck passed, many eyes followed it, clearly curious about what was inside, probably comparing weapons and power. The slums were huge and crowded.
Jing Shu's eyes were caught by an enormous spider clinging to a rusted corrugated sheet. Its hairy legs were as thick as a man's fingers. She swallowed hard, her mind involuntarily drifting to recipes. Imagine the spider marinated, deep-fried with a crisp egg wash and bread crumbs until golden.
The crispy legs would smell irresistible. One bite, breaking through the crunchy shell into the tender meat, would make it impossible to stop. She shook her head hard. She was already rich enough to afford any food she wanted, so why was she still interested in this?
The truck sped across the entire slum, finally reaching the underground black market. Jing Shu hadn't expected it to be a literal underground market, rather than just a nickname. The truck entered a huge cave guarded by armed men checking IDs at the entrance, their rifles held ready.
"Hey, it's me. I am bringing rookies for the test. We will be out by tonight," Xiao Hei said as he handed over two black breads. Their group smoothly got in. They had heard outsiders without credentials were executed on the spot at night, so no one cared much.
The slums were on the outskirts—far out but on higher ground—so even at the end of the second year, this underground black market hadn't flooded. Instead, it had gathered the surrounding slums into its orbit.
"Hey, did you know this underground black market used to be a huge gold mine? Sacramento started out because they found gold here and grew into what it's today. After the gold was mined out, they developed other things. Now, the mine was converted into a giant underground warehouse during the first year, and that became an underground city."