"Who is that? He looks a bit familiar — is he a passenger on the bus?" The drunkard had just been saying the street was safer than inside the house, but before the words had even left his mouth, something abnormal appeared on the road. He had the unsettling suspicion that somewhere beyond his sight, a pair of eyes had been watching him all along, tracking his every move.
"Is he waving at me? The fog is too thick — I can't make out his face, and he probably can't see mine either. Under these circumstances, a normal person wouldn't go out of their way to wave at a stranger."
People really do become smarter when their backs are pushed against the wall. After the horrors he'd just been through, the drunkard had noticeably wised up and was already trying to put himself in other people's shoes.
The silhouette in the fog was slowly growing clearer — the figure appeared to be walking in his direction.
"No. I need to stay away from him."
The drunkard could feel the figure's pace quickening. He didn't dare respond — he turned and ran.
"If he were human, he'd say something. Not a word, just waving — even thinking about it gives me the creeps."
The road wasn't safe either. A creeping sense of despair settled over the drunkard; he had no idea where to go.
"Right now the most important thing is to find the other passengers. Alone, it's only a matter of time before I'm played to death." He sprinted forward for a stretch, but there was no sign of the bus the entire way. The further he ran, the more his nerve crumbled. "I'm done for — completely lost. Every building around here looks the same. That bus was my only landmark."
In the fog behind him, a blurry figure was faintly visible. The person who had waved at him was still following, maintaining a fixed distance.
"What the hell is this thing now? Why does it keep tailing me?" The drunkard pushed himself harder, running in one breath to the next intersection.
Still no bus. Just as the drunkard was debating which road to take, he suddenly noticed a human silhouette had appeared across the street — someone was waving at him!
"How did that thing get in front of me?! It was supposed to be way behind me!"
Despair crept up like thorned vines seizing his heart. The drunkard didn't know what to do anymore. No matter which direction he looked, he could see that figure.
"What should I do?" Thirty years of life experience offered him nothing useful at this moment. The figure across the street kept waving — a blurry outline, a swaying arm, like the pendulum of death itself.
"Even if I flee to another street, that monster will probably just follow me. Fine — there's no other choice. I'll fight it!"
The drunkard gritted his teeth and clutched the bone cleaver he'd taken from the doghouse kitchen.
In all his years, he'd never even killed a chicken. But in this moment, a brutal thought surfaced in his mind.
"Calm down. Don't be afraid!" The longer you stayed in the blood fog, the more its influence seeped into you — something the drunkard himself hadn't realized. The corners of his eyes had turned red, shot through with blood vessels, making him look like someone who'd been pulling consecutive all-nighters. He looked nothing like the man who had first boarded the bus.
Because it was his first time, the drunkard's heart was hammering. He gripped the bone cleaver with both hands and, in a stiff, awkward posture, stepped toward the road.
The humanoid silhouette was still waving at him. The closer the drunkard got, the clearer the figure became.
"So familiar… I must have seen him somewhere before. Is he a passenger on the bus too?"
The drunkard waded to the middle of the road and called out: "Hey! What's your name?"
No response. The figure's waving slowed, then it suddenly started walking toward him.
A blood-red city. An empty road. Two figures drawing closer and closer.
As the stranger continued to approach, that nagging sense of familiarity rose again in the drunkard's chest.
"It's uncanny — I've definitely seen him somewhere before."
The blood fog was thick. The drunkard tightened his grip on the cleaver, shifted his feet, and finally pushed through the haze to stand face to face with the figure.