Chapter 2The Post-Apocalyptic BBQ Joint

Kyle sat in a daze at the BBQ table.

It was a real BBQ joint.

Surrounded by cheap green plastic chairs stained with grease, kegs of draft beer in the corner.

The disposable chopsticks on the table looked cheap—classic night market style. The air was filled with the scent of roasting meat, mixed with oil and spices. Familiar yet strange.

How long had it been since he’d eaten BBQ...?

Since the apocalypse started three years ago, he hadn’t had a decent meal.

Once a chubby guy pushing 200 pounds, he was now a scrawny 130.

He was practically skin and bones.

And now... he looked up at the shop owner. Was this BBQ joint in the ruins real or a hallucination?!

The young female owner was grinning as she grilled a handful of pork belly. The fat rendered over the fire, dripping onto the charcoal with sizzling pops. The scent of cumin drifted through the air, melding with the meat aroma, making his stomach cramp and his mouth water uncontrollably.

Kyle thought he should leave. This was the apocalypse. Nations had fallen. Only a fraction of humanity remained.

How could a BBQ joint exist in a place like this?

And such a normal BBQ joint at that—which was abnormal in itself!

But the smell of grilled meat was like a rope, binding him to the spot. He couldn't move. His eyes were glued to the skewers over the fire.

He wanted to snatch them and shove them down his throat!

Luckily, the torture didn't last long. The owner sprinkled a final dash of chili powder, pressed the meat onto the grill one last time, and piled twenty skewers onto a plate. She then filled a huge glass mug from the beer keg.

The frosty beer mug instantly beaded with condensation. She placed the tray and beer on Kyle's table with a smile.

"Thanks for waiting!"

The steam from the skewers hit his face, carrying an aggressive, delicious aroma.

Kyle was stunned by the smell. He stared blankly at the slightly charred pork belly and hesitated:

"Is this... for me? Can I eat it?"

The owner laughed. "Of course. But do you have anything to pay with?"

Kyle thought for a moment, then frantically dug a few green crystals out of his pocket. He scratched his head, handing them over sheepishly:

"Is this okay? Level 1 zombie cores. They can buy two corn cakes right now..."

He lowered his head as he spoke, knowing their value was far less than this pile of meat.

After all, this was meat.

In the first year of the apocalypse, all livestock vanished. He couldn't remember the last time he ate meat. Frozen meat sold for astronomical prices on the black market, if you could even find it.

And this pork belly looked incredibly fresh.

Kyle's face flushed red. He wanted to run, but he was glued to the seat.

It smelled too good. Even just one bite!

These crystals were his only wealth. He had gotten beaten up protecting them just now.

To his surprise, the owner picked up the crystals with curiosity, looked them over, and nodded.

"Sure. If it's not enough, tell me, I'll grill more." She went back to the counter.

Kyle stared at her in shock, but the aroma of pork belly had already infiltrated every pore, bypassing his brain entirely!

He grabbed a skewer and shoved it into his mouth—

The meat was tender. Incredibly tender. Probably marinated beforehand.

The fatty parts were charred just right. When he bit down, the hot oil and savory juices exploded in his mouth, scalding him.

But he couldn't bear to spit it out. He didn't even feel the burn anymore, chewing every piece with reverence.

Chili, cumin, sesame... the medley of flavors made Kyle’s eyes sting with tears.

He finally realized what food meant. After this bite, he could die happy!

"Drink some beer, don't just eat the meat!"

The owner called out: "It's fresh draft, changed daily."

Kyle paused and looked at the beer. The huge glass was frosted over, water droplets sliding down its sides onto the table.

The scent of wheat and alcohol mixed together. He grabbed the handle with trembling hands and took a slow sip.

The ice-cold beer, carbonated and sharp, washed down his esophagus, instantly quenching the heat from the spicy meat. Every pore in his body sighed with relief!

Kyle slammed the mug onto the table, eyes red, and shouted:

"Awesome!"

The owner glanced over and smiled.

Before Kyle knew it, the twenty skewers were gone. When he snapped out of it, the plate was just a pile of metal skewers. No meat left.

The beer mug was empty, not a drop remaining.

Kyle rubbed his stomach, disappointed.

He wasn't full. His stomach was screaming for more.

But he clenched his empty pocket and gritted his teeth to stand up.

Seeing him stand, the owner trotted over. "Done? Want to order more?"

Kyle smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Thank you... I'll come back when I have money."

He took a deep, lingering sniff of the lingering aroma, pushed open the door, and stepped back into the night.