Dawn had just broken.
A thin mist clung to the leaves by the roadside, and pale sunlight filtered through the clouds. The campfire from the night before was nothing but ashes. Thuong Sinh opened his eyes first. He stood up and used the toe of his boot to completely extinguish the remaining red embers, grinding the ashes into the dirt.
He turned toward the car. Lam Uyen had woken up at some point and was pulling the coat tighter around her daughter. Tran Nghien was still curled up asleep, her face smudged with a bit of ash.
Thuong Sinh said nothing. He opened the car door and checked the fuel. The gauge was still over half full—enough to reach the next city. He sat in the driver's seat and started the engine. Tran Nghien woke up with a start, rubbing her eyes and looking out the window in a daze.
"Is it... morning already?"
Thuong Sinh spoke in a low voice without turning his head. "If you're going to eat, do it in the car." It wasn't out of concern, nor was it a command; it was simply a notification.
The jeep began to roll, the empty dirt road stretching southward. After passing through a long stretch of forest, they saw a rusted, leaning sign. The letters were nearly gone, leaving only an arrow pointing 'South'.
Thuong Sinh didn't slow down. Two hours later, asphalt reappeared. Tall buildings began to emerge on the horizon. They had finally arrived.
'Duong Nam City'
The jeep drove straight into the heart of the city. The scene was unmistakable: this was once a living city, but now it was a husk. Glass was shattered, signs hung precariously, and vehicles were abandoned in the middle of the street, frozen in the final moments of chaos.
What was unusual was the absence of zombies—no roars, no shambling shadows. It was too clean. Clean to the point of being unsettling.
Thuong Sinh glanced at the sides of the road. Bullet holes in the walls, scorched craters, and charred zombie remains scattered in corners—traces of a systematic purge.
'The Military'
Only they could achieve this. As the car drove deeper, a few figures began to appear. Survivors huddled behind storefronts or sat on curbs, their eyes tracking the jeep as it rolled past. Some were wary; others were curious.
Thuong Sinh didn't look back. The car pressed on. After three turns, a large sign appeared ahead:
MILITARY ZONE – RESTRICTED AREA CIVILIANS QUEUE FOR INSPECTION – DISRUPTION FORBIDDEN
Below was a directional arrow. Thuong Sinh followed it. The military zone was located on the southern edge of the city, occupying a vast plot of land. Layers of barbed-wire fences stood tall, watchtowers were spaced evenly, and soldiers with rifles observed from above.
The main gate was wide open. In front of it, a massive line of people stretched out. Old and young, men and women in various states of dress. Some were wounded with crude bandages; others had eyes that were empty and soulless.
The military loudspeakers blared steadily, cold and emotionless:
"Maintain distance." "Prepare for temperature and wound checks." "Those who have been bitten, report voluntarily."
Soldiers with live ammunition stood along the sides, their gazes sharp. They didn't look like protectors; they looked like jailers.
Thuong Sinh decelerated and stopped the car at the end of the line. He looked at the dense crowd, then at the barbed wire, the towers, and the dark muzzles of the rifles. A place called a shelter, yet clearly a cage. He turned off the engine. No one in the car spoke; there was only the sound of the motor cooling down. He opened the door and stepped out.
The wind blowing through the military zone carried the scent of gunpowder, making his skin tingle. He stood tall, his eyes sweeping across the area. Then, he turned his head.
"Go." His voice was low and brief.
Lam Uyen froze for a beat, then understood. She nodded, took her daughter's hand, and stepped out of the car.
"Just stay in the line ahead."
Lam Uyen was stunned but didn't ask further. She led the girl toward the crowd. Tran Nghien looked back at Thuong Sinh once, her eyes hesitant, but quickly turned away when her mother squeezed her hand.
Thuong Sinh stayed by the jeep, he didn't join the line immediately. He watched the mother and daughter blend into the crowd, swallowed by faces that were strange, exhausted, and anxious.
He leaned against the side of the vehicle. His gaze followed the lines of people until a shadow slowly entered his field of vision.
It was a man no longer young, slender with a slightly hunched back. He wore a faded green cap pulled low, shading half his face. His clothes were tidy but weren't a standard military uniform. He appeared out of nowhere, standing just two paces from Thuong Sinh, observing him calmly from head to toe.
"Your car?" His voice was raspy, neither loud nor soft. Thuong Sinh glanced over but didn't answer immediately.
"Yes."
The man nodded, his eyes lingering on the steering wheel before scanning the back of the truck. "Not queuing?"
"Waiting," Thuong Sinh replied curtly.
The man let out a thin laugh—a smile as sharp as a cut. "Waiting in the wrong place here can get you killed." He pointed toward the iron gate where the crowd was slowly advancing.
"To enter Duong Nam, three things are mandatory: A clean body. A clear background. And... value."
Thuong Sinh narrowed his eyes. "And if I don't have them?"
The man in the green cap didn't answer directly. He gestured to the right, where a group of soldiers was escorting a man away from the line—his mouth gagged, his legs stumbling. The muffled cries were silenced quickly.
"Then you take the other exit." He turned back to Thuong Sinh, looking at him like a piece of merchandise. "What do you have?"
The air between them grew heavy. Thuong Sinh was silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke, his voice level:
"I drive."
"....."
The man paused. For the first time, his expression shifted. Then he smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, nor was it one of joy. The corners of his mouth simply twitched upward, as if he had just heard an answer he liked.
"A driver..." he repeated, his voice dropping. His eyes darted back to the jeep, lingering on the scratches on the body and the dried mud on the tires, before returning to Thuong Sinh. "In times like these, knowing how to drive and not being dead is an Ability in itself."
He pulled a thin card from his pocket, bearing only a red number and a faint stamp. "Follow me. No need to queue."
Thuong Sinh didn't move. "What about those two?"
The man in the green cap glanced toward the crowd. "Women and children follow the procedure. You are different." He turned and began to walk away slowly.
"If you really are just a driver, I'll send you back to the end of the line. But if not—" He stopped mid-step without turning around. "Duong Nam lacks many things. But it never lacks space for those who are useful."
Without waiting for a response, he continued walking, as if certain Thuong Sinh would follow.
Thuong Sinh stood still for a beat. He looked toward the line one last time—where Lam Uyen and Tran Nghien were nearly at the checkpoint. His hand clenched slightly. Finally, he left the side of the car and followed the man in the green cap.