Chapter Nineteen: Separation

Back at the supermarket, everyone had already turned in for the night except Zhang Yongming, who was waiting to receive Zhao Qiang and Wei Tao. Zhao Qiang tossed his backpack to Zhang Yongming and nimbly jumped off the vehicle.

“I’m truly sorry to keep sending you out into danger,” Zhang Yongming said, holding the heavy backpack, unable to let go of what had happened that day.

Wei Tao patted him on the shoulder, said nothing, and walked toward the back. Zhao Qiang took the backpack from Zhang Yongming, patted him in the same manner, and said, “It’s nothing, don’t dwell on it.” With that, he slung the backpack over his shoulder and walked into the supermarket, leaving Zhang Yongming standing alone by the car, lost in thought.

Nothing? Zhang Yongming was an old policeman, and years of experience told him all too well what kind of truth lay behind Zhao Qiang’s offhand words. In previous battles, Zhao Qiang and Wei Tao would at most have zombie blood on their clothes, nothing too serious. But this time, the front of Zhao Qiang’s tactical vest was torn by something unknown, tatters of fabric hanging messily at his chest.

Sitting in the surveillance room, Wei Tao stared motionless at the screens, monitoring everything inside and outside the supermarket. Outside, zombies wandered aimlessly; some stood in front of the thick glass windows, as if they too were keeping watch on the humans within. Inside, the two girls were asleep; Zhang Yongming was reading a storybook to little Zhang Yu, who lay across his lap, and Li Yun nestled in her husband’s arms.

“What do we do next?” Zhao Qiang asked, half-lying on the sofa, watching Wei Tao, who was cleaning his gun as he kept a steady eye on the monitors. This man seemed to have no interests beyond standing guard and maintaining his weapons.

“Aren’t you looking for your wife?” Wei Tao asked coldly, without turning around.

Zhao Qiang shifted on the sofa to a more comfortable position, propping his feet on the coffee table. “That’s right. But what about them? They have everything they need here. Should I really ask them to risk themselves for me?” He opened a can of beer, took a long drink, and continued, “Besides, I don’t even know where she is, or if she’s still alive.” It was his sixth beer that night; though he wore a mask of indifference, the empty cans scattered around betrayed his true feelings.

Yes, Zhao Qiang was deeply worried about his wife. After all he had endured—battle and betrayal—he’d nearly lost hope of ever seeing Peng Sha again. He even began to question: if she was already gone, what was the point of all this training and fighting? Perhaps he should simply die; maybe then his soul could reunite with hers in another world, never to be parted again. But if he did find her, what then? In a world like this, how much longer could they really hold out?

“Old Wei, I’m leaving too.” Zhao Qiang downed a large gulp of beer, his voice tinged with drunkenness. “I’ve already wasted too much time.” It wasn’t that he wanted to leave; everyone had worked so hard to find this relatively safe haven, and Zhao Qiang didn’t want them to risk their lives for his sake.

“You’re going alone?” Wei Tao was surprised. He had already taught Zhao Qiang everything he knew, but the most crucial thing—experience—could not be gained through a week’s training or a handful of fights.

“Yes, alone.” Zhao Qiang tossed aside the empty can. “You’ve seen what’s out there—zombie dogs now, who knows what next? I can’t drag everyone into this.”

“I can go with you,” Wei Tao offered, his voice as icy as ever.

“No need. I can handle it.” Though he said so, Zhao Qiang’s heart was not convinced. Everything he knew, he’d learned from Wei Tao. With Wei Tao at his side, he felt safe. But what about the others? Zhang Yongming alone couldn’t handle emergencies.

Wei Tao turned to say something more, but saw Zhao Qiang already asleep on the sofa. “The path must be walked alone—let’s hope it’s the right one for you,” he murmured.

The next morning, before dawn, Zhao Qiang awoke on the sofa. He had grown used to early mornings. Upon waking, he found Wei Tao was no longer in the surveillance room, and a coat—originally Wei Tao’s—had been draped over him. On the coffee table lay a new set of combat gear, and in the holster was Wei Tao’s treasured Type 92 pistol, lovingly maintained and never far from his side.

That guy always has such a sour face, Zhao Qiang thought, shaking his head with a smile. Without hesitation, he changed into the gear Wei Tao had left for him. As he stepped out of the surveillance room, he discovered that everyone was already waiting at the entrance.

“Up so early?” Zhao Qiang felt a little embarrassed, like a child caught doing something wrong.

“You’re leaving too?” Li Zihan, who was closest to Zhao Qiang among the group, asked with reddened eyes, unable to hide her reluctance.

Wei Tao, you blabbermouth, Zhao Qiang cursed inwardly. He reached out to pat Li Zihan’s head—a gesture he’d made many times, as an elder brother would with a beloved sister—and grinned. “Yes. I need to find your sister-in-law.”

“Will you come back to visit me?” little Zhang Yu piped up, his voice soft and sweet.

Zhao Qiang scooped him up and rubbed his bristly chin against the boy’s rosy cheeks, making him giggle. “Of course I’ll come back. Once I find the pretty lady, I’ll come visit little Octopus and bring you lots and lots of toys, how’s that?”

Children are children—Zhang Yu’s face lit up at the promise, and he eagerly held out his pinky. “Uncle, let’s make a pinky promise!”

Zhang Yongming came over and, saying nothing, extended his hand. The two men gripped each other tightly—a man’s farewell. “Take care,” Zhang Yongming said, patting Zhao Qiang’s arm. Zhao Qiang smiled, punched Zhang Yongming lightly on the chest, and replied, “I’m leaving them in your hands.” There was no need for more words; both men nodded, and their joined hands finally parted.

The rolling gate opened just a crack, and the icy wind carried with it the low growls of zombies. Zhao Qiang adjusted his backpack and slipped out without looking back.

In the surveillance room, Li Zihan could no longer hold back her tears. She leaned into Li Yun’s shoulder and wept.

“Old Wei, will you train me?” Zhang Yongming, after much deliberation, finally made his request. Earlier, he had to give up training with Zhao Qiang to care for his ailing son, but he could not miss this chance. “I don’t want to drag everyone down.”

Hearing this, Li Zihan wiped her tears and looked resolutely at Wei Tao. “Brother Wei, I want to join too!”

Seeing the determination in their eyes, Wei Tao nodded without a word, turning his gaze back to the screen, where Zhao Qiang’s figure grew ever more distant.