The wave of infections took away far more than just the population; it also drained the intangible energy and spirit from this land.
The whole Buffer Zone felt as though it had been squeezed dry of all life by an invisible hand. The air was filled with an indescribable deathly stillness and desolation. Even the wind carried a heavy, oppressive scent.
Cheng Ye made his way from the Central Inspection Station, occasionally stopping to observe.
The faces of the passing crowds were generally expressionless, showing only a numb weariness. Occasionally, a few individuals had a gleam in their eyes, easily identifiable as those who had mingled their way out of the shantytowns, choosing their targets for when night fell.
Only those migrants with backpacks, or those squatting by the roadside to trade supplies before their departure, wore expressions of slight anticipation and smiles.
