She was buzzing with anticipation for this trip. America really lived up to its name. No matter what she gained, at the very least, she had stepped out of the country for the first time in her life. She never thought she would be able to travel abroad in the apocalypse after being reborn.
America's land was massive, but its population was sparse. Mexico next door had 120 million people, while Sacramento covered 99.2 square miles; that was about a quarter the size of Hong Kong or ten times the size of Macau. Even with more than three hundred thousand migrants flooding in, the population barely hit six hundred thousand. It was only a fifth of Wu City's.
Thanks to the Mediterranean climate, the moment she landed in Sacramento, her first impression was that the air lacked the biting chill of Wu City. The second was just how vast, empty, and desolate it felt. Aside from the bustling lights of the city center, everything else around was eerily silent. Every so often, a low groan would vibrate up through the soles of her boots.
The ground would rumble, and an earthquake would hit. Natural disasters had the whole world in their grip. No place was spared. Here, the quakes had made things even messier. Countless Mexicans poured into the city every day. Still, when Jing Shu felt the foreign soil beneath her feet and gazed at the unfamiliar architecture, it finally sank in. She wasn't in China anymore. She had really crossed the ocean and come to America!
"It's 11 a.m. here in America. I trust everyone has rested enough on the plane. From here on, we will split up. Look, my buddy Xiao Hei is here to pick you guys up." Yang Yang waved at a huge truck pulling up, the tires kicking up a cloud of dust. The driver spun the wheel with flair and parked neatly. Out climbed a big, dark-skinned American.
"Oh, my dear Mr. Goat, it's such a pleasure to see you again. And to meet all you fine soon-to-be mercenaries, what a joy. Just call me Xiao Hei." Built like a bull, Xiao Hei hugged Yang Yang, then greeted the others. He spoke fluent Chinese, which instantly put Jing Shu at ease. For someone who had never managed to learn a foreign language, this was a lifesaver.
The two teams split up. Jing Shu's group—Tank, Snake, Ling Ling, Monkey, and herself—piled into Xiao Hei's massive truck. The men had to crouch in the back, their boots scraping against the metal floor. She and Ling Ling got the front seats beside Xiao Hei. Their destination was the underground black market he kept mentioning.
Xiao Hei floored the gas, the engine letting out a guttural roar. He grumbled, "Damn this black market. Oil is getting harder to come by. I have got to drive fast. The quicker we get there, the less fuel we use. Hold on tight, ladies."
Jing Shu blinked. She had heard foreigners weren't good at math, like being able to finish a pizza cut into six slices but not into eight. But wasn't fuel efficiency about steady speed, not flooring it? She exchanged a look with Ling Ling, and both sighed. Ling Ling was a shy, timid girl, though Jing Shu still couldn't figure out why she dressed so boldly cute.
She turned her gaze outside, half-listening as Xiao Hei rambled on about local oddities. The truck roared forward, the scenery blurring past. It looked more like a vast rural wasteland. Muddy patches from receding floodwater still clung to the earth. Houses were scattered and run-down, with moss creeping up the cracked walls. It felt like driving through a ghost town at 4 a.m.; it was eerie and chilling. There wasn't a soul in sight.
"Damn quakes!" Xiao Hei cursed, jerking the wheel around a massive crater. The truck rocked violently side to side, the suspension groaning. He kept talking. "Last year, half of Sacramento got flooded. Luckily, the city center and a few suburbs survived, so people moved there. But once the government got thrown out, greedy food merchants and arms dealers set their own apocalyptic rules. Folks like us who can't pay their taxes ended up in the slums. Still, there's the underground market where we can scrape by."
"What exactly is the underground market?" Jing Shu asked.
Xiao Hei lit a cigarette. She couldn't help but sigh. Back in China, smokes were practically extinct, yet here a broke American could still afford them. The rumors were true; America was always fighting its own people, but it was never short of food or supplies.
But she wasn't entirely right. Sure, America was a developed capitalist nation, but the wealth gap was enormous. Fifteen percent of its people lived in slums, starving daily with no healthcare or welfare. In China, at least, the government handed out seeds, taught people how to farm, and offered factory jobs. Anyone willing to work could earn food and money. Even in the apocalypse, the government distributed relief grain. As long as you labored, you could get at least one meal a day. You wouldn't starve. In the American slums, though, survival was far harsher.
"Oh, dear Miss Mirror, I heard China abolished your old currency and rolled out a new one. Other countries did the same to handle inflation. But here in America, we still use US dollars. That pile of dogshit government insists on pegging grain and oil to the old prices.
Problem is, dollars can't buy anything anymore. They're as worthless as shit. Everywhere now, food and supplies are the real currency. The underground market controls half of Sacramento's oil and grain. It's run by hundreds of middle-class families, a so-called aristocrat circle. They monopolize production, hire mercenaries and locals, and formed a tight-knit power bloc."
Jing Shu pointed at the faraway glow of the city center. "Those bright lights over there?" The place looked extravagant, exactly like the America she had seen in TV reports. If her whole trip was in that kind of place, it would be amazing.
Xiao Hei pulled an exaggerated face. "That used to be the state government district. Later, arms dealers and gangs seized it. They have got firepower to burn. By the first year of the apocalypse, they had roped in tons of people and even partnered with big food merchants. They rewrote survival itself. Over there, society is split into classes. Lowest are the slaves, mostly Mexicans who fled here or other foreigners. The middle class are the local rich, the free folk. And the upper class? The arms dealers and grain tycoons.
With the quakes these past few days, tons of Mexicans poured in. Half of them have been dragged into slavery already. Of course, plenty also end up in the slums. Without a government, there's no food, no law. People survive by robbing others. Mexican gangs formed too, specializing in raiding food. Even women aren't safe here. It's been chaos lately, so the black market is desperate to recruit more capable mercenaries. Word is, they're also planning something big and need hired guns to pull it off." Xiao Hei puffed out smoke rings, the blue-grey haze drifting through the cabin.