Apocalypse: I Built the Infinite Train-Chapter 2: The Apocalypse Help Call

The next day, when the sky finally brightened, it was already 1:00 PM.

The black shroud of night receded without the gradual appearance of a sunrise, leaving the sky clear and slightly angled toward the afternoon sun.

Daylight now arrived an hour later than the day before. Based on Jiang City’s location and its summer time zone, with sunset still around 6:45 PM, it meant that in just five more days, dawn would no longer come to this place.

Inside the apartment, Lin Xian strapped his short dagger onto his backpack. Jumping from his balcony into the neighboring unit, he followed his established route, weaving downward through the building until he reached the access point to an underground civil defense tunnel.

This led him into a section of the subway system, specifically a maintenance zone at the former University Town Station. Since the apocalypse began, the station had fallen into complete disrepair.

The zombies on the platform had already been cleared out by Lin Xian, turning this area into his designated train assembly site.

Walking deeper into the tunnel, Lin Xian approached the rusted and neglected tracks. Sitting there in the shadows was a massive steel behemoth: the Whale 03E heavy gas turbine locomotive.

This 200-ton mechanical monstrosity was Lin Xian’s secret weapon for escaping the polar night!

Click.

He turned on a flashlight, and its white beam cut through the pitch-black tunnel. Staring at the massive locomotive in front of him, Lin Xian’s nerves tingled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

The Whale 03E was a masterpiece from 30 years ago, jointly developed by Alstom Transport and China’s CRRC Corporation. Based on Alstom’s “Prima” locomotive technology platform, it was meticulously designed as a high-powered, ten-cylinder gas turbine freight engine.

The locomotive spanned over 36 meters in length and had a width of 3.2 meters. Beneath its imposing frame lay staggering energy potential: a traction power of 18,500 horsepower, equivalent to the combined output of dozens of supercars. It could haul tens of thousands of tons of cargo with ease!

For Lin Xian, this locomotive was the perfect platform for his mechanical abilities. Its discovery had sparked the vision for the Infinite Train Project!

“Check the transmission shaft, brake pads, and power turbines…” Lin Xian muttered to himself.

His Mechanical Heart ability came with three foundational skills: Mechanical Scan, Mechanical Repair, and Mechanical Operation.

Simply put, as long as Lin Xian understood the principles of a machine he touched, he could perform basic controls, repairs, and even generate holographic blueprints of the device via scanning. These three passive skills, however, were not upgradable.

The Whale 03E required fuel for primary propulsion and electricity for auxiliary functions. While fuel was one of the scarcest resources in the post-apocalyptic world, Lin Xian’s Mechanical Heart could directly power the locomotive using his ability—completely bypassing the need for conventional energy sources.

This capability was nothing short of miraculous.

However, the output power depended on his personal stamina. At his current limits, the range of operation was still restricted. That said, with Lin Xian acting as a human battery, scavenging additional resources along the way, and possibly acquiring power generation systems or small nuclear reactors, the energy issue could eventually be resolved completely.

Beyond the locomotive itself, Lin Xian had modified three additional carriages to serve specific functions. These were repurposed from old passenger cars:

Living Carriage: Used for storing supplies and serving as living quarters.Empty Carriage: Reserved for future use, intended as a farming zone to grow green plants. Ideally, it would house a water-oxygen circulation system for plant cultivation. However, lacking expertise in this area, Lin Xian had left it temporarily empty.Tool Carriage: A storage area for tools, a motorcycle, a crane, a welding machine, and any materials scavenged along the way.

Lin Xian walked to the fourth carriage and placed his hand on the vehicle's exterior. Activating his Mechanical Heart, a custom hydraulic lift descended. Inside the carriage was a motorcycle designed to help him collect resources during stops.

Climbing onto the lift, he brought down a welding machine. By the tracks lay a pile of materials—mostly rolled steel plates, high-strength tungsten steel, and manganese steel—all scavenged from Jiang City’s specialized steel factory. These were ideal materials for crafting the armored fortress he envisioned.

Buzz.

A glowing interface appeared before Lin Xian, displaying blueprints he had drawn himself. Among them was a design for composite armor plating. There were also firearm blueprints, such as the Glock 23 .40 caliber handgun—blueprints he had extracted using his Mechanical Scan skill after disarming a group of raiders.

The problem, however, was the resource requirements:

“High-alloy chromium-molybdenum steel: 120 grams. Basic steel: 300 grams. Plastic: 195 grams…”

Lin Xian groaned in frustration.

Compared to standardized items like this, he found it much easier to rely on his Mechanical Manufacturing skill and existing materials to DIY custom parts.

Clang!

Lin Xian’s eyes glowed faintly as the steel in front of him began to levitate, seemingly of its own accord. Under immense pressure, the metal quickly reshaped and fused into a single composite structure.

In just ten minutes, a 1.5 x 0.9-meter piece of composite armor was complete.

Manufacturing and assembling parts required intense focus, and with no one else to assist him, Lin Xian had to work as efficiently as possible during daylight hours.

Several hours passed, and Lin Xian managed to assemble several sets of gridded, double-layered composite armor “windows.” Using a small mobile crane from the tool carriage, he carefully hoisted the heavy armor panels into position along the carriage edges, welding them securely in place.

The Whale 03E’s driver compartment was fully connected to the rest of the train via isolation doors, ensuring that the entire train could function as a single fortress. Lin Xian had named the train Infinite, and it embodied his dream of survival.

The first carriage served as his living quarters and storage for most of his supplies. The second carriage, as mentioned, would eventually become a planting area. For now, though, it remained empty. The third carriage housed tools, machinery, and the materials he was gathering to expand his project.

As Lin Xian was engrossed in building his mobile fortress, his phone suddenly vibrated.

Startled, he froze. Most satellites were now defunct, and satellite communications were nearly nonexistent. He had kept his phone charged primarily for storing data, maps, and emergencies. He hadn’t expected a call.

Answering cautiously, he heard a nervous female voice on the other end.

“Lin Xian, are you still in Jiang City? I… I want to join your Infinite Train project.”

The caller was Chen Sixuan, Lin Xian’s former university lecturer. She was the only person from his contact list he had managed to reach in the early days of the apocalypse.

Chen Sixuan was 27, a stunningly beautiful woman without a boyfriend—practically an anomaly in Jiang City’s pre-apocalyptic culture, which encouraged early marriage and childbirth.

Tall and elegant, born into an intellectual family, she was the quintessential urban “rich and beautiful.” At the university, she was a figure admired by all.

At the start, when Lin Xian had mentioned his train project to Chen Sixuan, she had outright rejected the idea. Lin Xian hadn’t disclosed his ability to her, and the plan sounded too far-fetched. Back then, Chen Sixuan still clung to the naive belief that a rescue team would come for her.

But after Jiang City experienced its first polar night, countless people perished in despair, and the eerie horrors of the night consumed the last shreds of survivors’ sanity. Lin Xian had witnessed the grim atrocities that emerged from the collapse of social order. In this brutal world, a woman without abilities had less value in survival teams than a barrel of gasoline.

He had assumed Chen Sixuan had either left with some group or met her end. Receiving her call now left him surprised. If she hadn’t escaped, how had she managed to survive for so long?

In an apartment, the door was tightly locked, and the curtains drawn shut. Chen Sixuan, disheveled and dressed in loungewear, sat curled up in the corner of a sofa. Her expression was tense as she stared at her phone’s nearly depleted battery. Her once soft, full lips were pale, and her body trembled involuntarily.

For two months, she had endured the darkest period of her life: scarce food, endless nights, and unrelenting fear.

Each night, the terrifying sounds from the darkness jolted her awake. She was frail, thinner than ever, and her mind teetered on the edge of collapse.

At first, she had waited for the arrival of an official rescue team. Some of her old admirers even brought supplies to her door. But when she realized the entire world’s order had crumbled, and the polar night had come, she understood she was trapped in a nightmare.

Desperation set in, and she began reaching out for help.

But after the polar night passed, most of Jiang City’s population seemed to vanish. Those who remained were either migrating eastward or had descended into madness. The survival teams that were willing to take her in had only one request: send a nude photo to prove her worth.

It was then that Chen Sixuan fully grasped the reality. She was no longer the adored university teacher or the woman who once captured the hearts of Jiang City’s elite. She was now a liability. In this apocalypse, even a trace of beauty required her to offer herself up in exchange for a mere glance from others.

Just as she was about to lose all hope, she suddenly remembered Lin Xian.

Her power banks had long been drained, and her phone had only a sliver of battery left. At this moment, no matter how crazy his plan seemed, even just hearing someone’s voice gave her hope.

“Ms. Chen, are you okay?”

On the other end, Lin Xian’s calm and steady tone instantly eased her nerves.

“Lin… Lin Xian, I’m… I’m still alive. Are you still in Jiang City?”

Her voice trembled as she bit her finger nervously.

After a long silence, Lin Xian’s voice finally came through again.

“Yes.”

Chen Sixuan’s entire body shook as relief washed over her. Her eyes lit up with hope, and she hurriedly spoke into the phone, “Where are you? Can you come pick me up…”

She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth.

The request sounded absurd. She recalled how, just days ago, she had reached out to a team planning to escape east. When she asked them the same question, they had ridiculed her mercilessly. Their mocking tone implied, “Who do you think you are? A princess?”

Quickly, she corrected herself, “No, no, I mean… where are you? Can I come to you?”

Desperation left her with no choice. If her phone died, she would be left with only two options: continue hiding in her apartment, waiting for death, or wander aimlessly outside until the zombies tore her to shreds.

“Ms. Chen,” Lin Xian’s voice came through again, calm and detached. “Do you have supplies? Or have you awakened an ability?”

Hearing this, Chen Sixuan’s heart sank.

She glanced at her barren apartment. Her lips trembled as she answered in a voice that was almost a sob, “N-No… I don’t.”

“If… if you need me to…”

She never thought she’d stoop so low as to plead with one of her former students, but before she could finish, Lin Xian cut her off.

“Sorry, Ms. Chen. My supplies are limited. If you want to join my plan, you need to bring some value. Physical needs mean nothing to me.”

Lin Xian had no interest in charity. No one believed in his train project, so he was building it for himself. Every step he took was to escape the polar night, not to play the hero.

His calm yet firm tone carried an odd sense of security, but it also plunged Chen Sixuan into utter despair.

“Alright then…”

“Good luck, Ms. Chen.”

Lin Xian’s voice was indifferent. With a sigh, he prepared to hang up.

On the other end of the call, Chen Sixuan’s body went cold. Just as Lin Xian was about to disconnect, she suddenly snapped, clutching the phone tightly and shouting, “Wait!”

Her eyes widened, and her chest heaved with rapid breaths as she yelled,

“The planetary orbital rail was constructed starting in 2039, spanning 126 countries and 34 regions, crossing nine continents and four oceans, and passing through all 13 current Abyss Devouring Zones. The rail’s total length exceeds 320,000 kilometers! My father was a Level-1 maintenance engineer for the planetary rail, and I know the locations of all 1,266 stations and 625 maintenance segments along the line!”

“Also, I’m fluent in multiple languages. I can be your translator. I eat very little, and I know how to cook. As long as you take me with you, I’ll do anything you ask!”

She screamed the last sentence with every ounce of strength she had.

A long silence followed on the other end.

Chen Sixuan sat frozen, her body trembling. Her nails dug into her thighs so deeply that blood began to bead at the surface.

“Your location. I’ll come get you.”

Six simple words.

Chen Sixuan felt dizzy, her mind spinning. Snapping back to reality, she frantically blurted out, “I-I’m at Building 3, Unit 901, Yushui Gardens, Jiangzhou Road!”

Beep.

Before she could repeat her address, her phone screen went black—it had shut down completely.

Panicking, she pressed the power button repeatedly, but there was no response. She wasn’t even sure if Lin Xian had caught her address. Frustration overwhelmed her, and she bit her lip so hard it bled.

“Ah!”

She let out a furious scream and hurled the phone at the wall, shattering it into pieces.

“He heard it. He definitely heard it…”

Muttering to herself, Chen Sixuan tried to calm her fraying nerves. To distract herself from despair, she immediately began rummaging through her apartment for any books or materials related to the planetary orbital rail.

On the other end, Lin Xian stared at the phone in his hand, letting out a sigh.

The once-admired and respected Ms. Chen Sixuan, now speaking to him with a pleading tone, even going as far as to offer sexual favors—it was a grim reminder of how this hellish apocalypse could twist people into monsters, turning human dignity into a mockery.

Still, her words had struck a chord with him.

The planetary orbital rail circled the entire globe, a route filled with unknown dangers. Having someone familiar with its intricacies would be far better than relying on a "dead map" stripped of its GPS and navigational functions. After all, maps couldn’t indicate maintenance segments or special connection routes.

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Of course, there was another reason—Chen Sixuan was someone Lin Xian knew personally. In the apocalypse, people instinctively sought out the security of groups, and familiar faces were the easiest to trust.

Setting aside the phone, Lin Xian glanced at the time before returning to his welding work.

There wasn’t enough time left in the day, and the progress of preparing the train couldn’t afford to stall.

Beep, beep.

6:00 PM. There were 45 minutes left until nightfall.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Lin Xian gazed at the thick, tank-like armored windows he had just installed on both sides of the third carriage. A sense of accomplishment welled up in his chest.

“Next on the list: a generator, heating equipment, water purification, a fridge, and an advanced monitoring system…” he murmured to himself.

“And then there’s the defensive gear: automated weapon systems, a radar system, and other protective measures…”

“Right, the living quarters—I need a big bed, a bathtub. Might as well add a recreation area, maybe a gaming zone or something. How about storing a few thousand movies, TV shows, and games?”

Lin Xian’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he rattled off his ideas. At that moment, he realized something profound:

In this apocalypse, life was becoming something to look forward to again.