Ashley Grant really asked a crucial question.

Henry Clark answered very seriously, “Because I’m a survivalist, I have a radio. And because I’ve always kept the radio in a Faraday cage, it still works.”

Ashley Grant is a high school student, so of course she understands what a Faraday cage is.

Now Ashley Grant’s eyes grew even brighter. She trembled as she said, “Then you must have a cell phone, right?”

Henry Clark nodded and said in a deep voice, “I have a cell phone, and it works.”

Chapter Four: The Survivalist

The desire to contact the outside world temporarily outweighed the allure of pork stewed with cabbage for Ashley Grant.

Under Ashley Grant’s gaze, Henry Clark once again took out the cookie tin. After taking out a cell phone from inside, he carefully closed the lid before turning the phone on.

This metal cookie tin also served as a Faraday cage. Inside, besides the walkie-talkie, there was a flashlight, a charger, and every electronic device Henry Clark could fit in.

With Ashley Grant looking on expectantly, Henry Clark said in a low voice, “I know you won’t be at ease until you try this call. My phone isn’t broken, but all the basic communication infrastructure was destroyed in that electromagnetic storm, so don’t get your hopes up too high—be mentally prepared.”

After taking the phone, just one glance was enough to know the result, because the phone had power but absolutely no signal.

But Ashley Grant still couldn’t wait to enter the number and dial out, and the result was just as expected.

Ashley Grant’s hand holding the phone dropped weakly, but she suddenly remembered something, so she raised the phone again.

Henry Clark sighed and said, “Don’t bother. The electromagnetic storm destroyed all electronic devices. If you can’t make a call, there’s no way to get online either.”

Ashley Grant let out a helpless sigh. She looked at the phone with resignation and said, “Was the magnetic storm released by aliens?”

“Yes.”

“How much do you know about the aliens? Can you tell me about them?”

Putting the phone away under Ashley Grant’s reluctant gaze, Henry Clark pointed to the wild boar nearby and said, “Let’s talk while we work. Time to butcher the pig and eat some meat.”

Those four words—“butcher the pig and eat meat”—were more comforting than anything else.

Dragging the wild boar to the side, Henry Clark took off his jacket. He drew the long knife from his waist and, after sizing up the boar for a long time, finally made the cut at its neck.

Having eaten pork but never slaughtered a pig, Henry Clark really didn’t know how to do it, but he was sure he’d get to eat meat.

He slit open the boar’s belly, and a wave of blood stench hit him in the face. Henry Clark couldn’t help but hold his breath, but when he turned to look at Ashley Grant standing nearby, he found her actually looking excited and expectant.

“You’re not scared?”

“I would have been before, but not now. All I can think about is eating.”

Makes sense—when you’re so hungry your face turns green, what’s there to fear about blood and guts?

Henry Clark first pulled out the pig’s heart and said, “When the aliens first arrived, I was probably among the first to see them with my own eyes. I was working in Jicheng at the time, and I saw a smaller spaceship suddenly appear over the city. Then the ship dropped a lot of things that looked like gas canisters. I guess those were containers for releasing the virus. One of the canisters even landed not far from me.”

Ashley Grant became nervous and asked anxiously, “Jicheng is so big and there are so many people—how did you escape from there?”

Henry Clark sighed and said, “Like I said, I’m a survivalist. I’ve always been preparing for disasters—earthquakes, wars, economic crises, even car accidents in daily life. I’ve always lived in the fear of my own imagination, so I’m better prepared than anyone else.”

Ashley Grant nodded and said, “I’ve always known survivalists exist, I just never really understood them. But now I see that being afraid of death really does have its benefits. You have so much stuff now, you’re living like a rich man.”

Henry Clark shook his head and said, “Let me correct you: survivalists aren’t afraid of death—they’re afraid of living without quality. If I died when the disaster first struck, there’d be nothing to say. But if I survived, then I’d need enough resources to keep myself alive—and not just alive, but living well, at least better than those who didn’t prepare. That’s the ultimate goal of a survivalist.”

Ashley Grant was silent for a moment, then said softly, “You’re right. I’m about to starve, but you’re warm and well-fed. That’s the benefit of being prepared.”

“There’s a price, though. For example, people treat you like you’re crazy. The phrase ‘worrying about nothing’ was made for people like us.”

“That’s a price I can accept.”

Henry Clark smiled and said, “That’s only because the disaster really happened. Otherwise, you’d find that being laughed at is actually a pretty steep price. I know this because I’ve been laughed at for years. Luckily, I never gave up my hobby.”

“Hobby?”

“Yes. Preparing for an imagined apocalypse is a hobby for me and for many others, because no one knows if the end will ever come. Since that’s the case, the only thing to do is treat all this preparation as a hobby.”