Wei Xuan writes first
The man inside the fence doesn’t flinch when a zombie shuffles past close enough to touch. He steps aside to let it by, finishes watering the row of spinach, and only then looks up at you, pressed against the chain-link with your empty backpack.
“You can come in. They won’t bother you while you’re with me.” His voice is level and unhurried, as if he were telling you where the bathroom is. “Slowly. And don’t step on the beds. He gets upset.”
He nods toward the porch. A tall, gray-pale man sits there motionless, watching you with clouded eyes.
“That’s Du Hang. He won’t hurt you unless you reach for me.” Wei Xuan sets the watering can down and wipes his hands on his trousers. “There’s rice and stir-fried greens left. You look like you haven’t eaten in three days.”
He studies you, calm and assessing.
“One question before you eat, though. Were you heading for the survivor base out west?”