Half an hour later.
Suzy brought her vehicle to a slow stop at the end of the long queue waiting to enter the base.
Before long, a steady stream of new vehicles began pulling up right behind her.
As she had driven along the length of the line to take her spot, she had caught a clear view of the entire convoy. It was vastly longer than she had anticipated.
Extending outward from the base’s main gate, the vehicle line split into three parallel lanes, each packed with at least twenty to thirty cars, all inching forward at an agonizingly slow crawl.
Most of the vehicles were heavily modified. Some had truck beds piled high with supplies, others were welded with makeshift iron armor plating, and a few were even outfitted with heavy bull bars and armored observation hatches. There were even people standing in the open flatbeds holding up wooden signs with faint, illegible words painted on them.
In stark contrast, Suzy’s faded gray-and-white minivan sat sandwiched in the middle of the procession—noticeably shorter and entirely unimposing.
Suzy took a sip of icy cold cola while peering out through her window to observe the scene outside.
To be completely honest, this was her very first time seeing such a massive crowd of people since the end of the world began.
On the other side of the vehicle lanes was a separate queue reserved for pedestrians. A massive tide of refugees stood in line, waiting for their turn to be processed into the base.
Having focused all her attention on the vehicle convoy earlier, Suzy only now took a proper look at the foot traffic on the far side.
Most of those people were clad in drab, tattered old rags. Some were wrapped in discarded blankets salvaged from who-knows-where, others hauled bulging woven sacks across their shoulders, and a few clutched slips of paper in their hands—likely registration passes or official documents of some kind.
Under the overcast gray sky, their faces looked grim and drawn.
Their skin was rough, their eye sockets deeply sunken, their lips cracked and parched, and their hair matted and wild—looking as though it hadn’t seen care in ages. A few held their heads low and dozed off where they stood, while others leaned listlessly against the roadside guardrails, staring blankly into space.
A handful of young children crouched at the edge of the crowd, quietly tracing patterns in the dirt with pebbles. Occasionally, they would glance up at the agonizingly slow line ahead, only to lower their heads back down once more.
Every single face bore a strikingly similar expression of numbness and deep-seated exhaustion.
Suzy withdrew her gaze and cast a quick look at her own reflection in the rearview mirror.
Nourished by the magical spirit spring water, her skin remained porcelain-smooth and fair, her cheeks flushed with a healthy rosy glow, her eyes bright and lively, and her lips perfectly hydrated. She looked as though she belonged to a completely different world compared to the refugees queuing outside.
She went quiet for a few seconds before retrieving a makeup kit from her spatial domain. She began dabbing and blending away at her face.
In no time at all, her bright complexion was replaced by a dull, sallow tone, accompanied by dark circles beneath her eyes. She added a generous smear of contouring powder, smudging it into a messy, unwashed grime.
In just a couple of quick moves, Suzy transformed herself into a weary wanderer fleeing a disaster zone.
With her transformation complete, she leaned back against the driver’s seat, relaxing her posture to look every bit like an ordinary, exhausted traveler who had been stuck in line for far too long.
Just then, the vehicle line edged forward another couple of feet.
Out of the corner of her eye, Suzy spotted a custom off-road vehicle cutting in from the side, pulling up to a stop just diagonally ahead of her.
The rig boasted a rugged, aggressive build, painted in a dark forest-green coat. Its front bumper was reinforced with massive bull bars, and a metal security rack was welded all around the roof. Even its four tires were a full size larger than standard ones—clearly a custom build that had taken a great deal of effort and resources to assemble.
The windows were covered in heavy dark tint, obscuring the occupants inside, but the passenger-side window happened to be rolled down, revealing an arm resting casually on the frame.
A man leaned his head out from the passenger side—a guy with a close-cropped buzz cut, wearing a dark jacket with an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.
His gaze swept over Suzy’s faded gray-and-white van, lingering for a brief second, before turning his head to murmur something to the driver beside him.
Suzy happened to be observing her surroundings, so she caught the glance the man shot her way.
She didn’t pay it much mind at first, but in the next second, another head popped out from inside the same vehicle, peering straight in her direction.
It was so blatantly obvious that it was impossible for Suzy to ignore. These two were clearly checking out her car.
Suzy casually rolled her window down an inch or two, allowing their conversation to float over with crystal clarity.
"Look at that minivan over there—the door’s warped, and there’s a crack that long across the front windshield. Is that thing seriously still drivable?" a voice remarked, chuckling.
"It drives, but who knows for how much longer? Look at those tires—one’s practically flattened out."
"Tsk, tsk. Gotta admit though, it’s impressive the thing managed to limp all the way to the base."
"Honestly feels like it’s about to fall apart at any second..."
"Haven’t seen a piece of junk like that in ages. Then again, it’s the apocalypse, so guess it makes sense."
"What do you know? As long as it rolls, it’s a good car."
"..."
The pair bickered back and forth intermittently.
Listening to their banter, Suzy’s lips twitched slightly.
They really were talking about my car.
Still, their reaction pleased her immensely—a beaten-up junker was a blessing! Nobody would waste their time plotting to steal a heap of trash like this.
Looking at it this way, she felt those 80 System points were money extremely well spent.
The rest of the wait went smoothly without incident.
Suzy patiently watched the queue inch forward at a snail’s pace. The two men had only discussed her car for a brief moment before quickly turning their attention elsewhere.
Roughly an hour passed before it was finally Suzy’s turn to register.
The pickup truck loaded with supplies ahead of her completed its check-in and slowly rolled through the base’s main gates.
Suzy released her brake pedal, edging the minivan forward a few meters until she pulled up right beside the registration window.
The booth was modest, cut into a recessed nook on the side of the thick perimeter wall—seemingly designed specifically for vehicle inspections. Inside sat two officials: a middle-aged man in a dark uniform flipping through a logbook, and a younger clerk jotting down notes with a pen.
The middle-aged official glanced up at Suzy’s vehicle. His eyes lingered on the dilapidated van for a split second before shifting to her dark, weary-painted face. Without prying any further, he simply asked in a routine tone:
"Name, origin, and purpose of visit?"
Suzy lowered her window a fraction more, answering in a calm, steady voice: "Suzy Kale. Came from the direction of X City. Just passing through—not staying."
The middle-aged man nodded, showing no particular reaction to her destination, and jotted a few strokes into the logbook.
He then followed up: "Any contraband on board? Weapons, explosives, or controlled items?"
"None," Suzy replied without a moment’s hesitation.
The official scanned her beat-up vehicle once more. Free of suspicion, he stated in a flat tone, "How long do you need inside the base?"
"About half a day. Just taking a short rest and replenishing some water. I’ll be leaving shortly."
The man didn’t press further. He simply wrote the word "Transit" in the remarks column of the logbook, then looked up and pointed down the road ahead.
"Once you pass through these gates, follow the main avenue straight ahead. Take a right at the second intersection—there’s a temporary parking zone set up there for transit vehicles. You can rest and restock, but overnight stays are strictly prohibited."
He paused slightly before adding, "If you need lodging, you’ll have to visit the residential sector to apply for a temporary residence permit. That’s a separate process."
"Got it. Thank you," Suzy nodded.
The official gestured to his side, and the younger clerk handed over a slip of paper with the words "Temporary Transit Pass" printed across it, stamped with a faded official seal.
Taking the pass, Suzy stepped on the accelerator and drove through the base gates.
Inside, the overhead directional signage was large and clear, cleanly separating transit traffic like hers from vehicles entering the main base.
Following the signs down the main road, Suzy soon arrived at the temporary parking lot.
She never could have anticipated that right here, she would overhear news about Adam Bennet.