Chapter Five

The armored cash transport slowly pulled away from the gas station, leaving behind several zombies drawn by the echoes of gunfire. All along the road, the wreckage of countless accidents and wandering undead marked the aftermath of chaos. Wei Tao drove with utmost caution, his eyes scanning the devastated landscape, while Li Zihan slept deeply. Zhao Qiang sat fiddling incessantly with his rifle, practicing his aim on the occasional zombie that lurked beyond the window.

“Bang!” Zhao Qiang mimed pulling the trigger, his Type 81 rifle sighted on a zombie’s skull, his lips producing the sound of a gunshot. If only ammunition weren’t so scarce, he thought, I would send every last one of you back to hell. He replayed scenes from Resident Evil in his mind, worrying that some monstrous tyrant might appear. He had neither heavy weaponry nor the superhuman abilities of Alice. And what about Baobao? It had been three days without news—please, let nothing have happened to her.

Restless, Zhao Qiang glanced around, attempting several times to strike up conversation with Wei Tao, but the man maintained his stoic silence, deepening Zhao Qiang’s boredom. The girl, at least, could sleep through anything. Zhao Qiang glanced back at the peacefully sleeping Li Zihan, momentarily forgetting how he had dozed his own way through the journey.

By December, nightfall came early. When the armored car finally entered the boundaries of Changsha, darkness had already blanketed the city. Under the beams of the headlights, the so-called entertainment capital of China looked every bit the dead city—Changsha was now a husk.

Post-apocalyptic Changsha resembled a war zone. Signs of fierce battles scarred every street; makeshift barricades littered the avenues, while bodies lay strewn in grotesque disarray—severed limbs, rivers of blood, high-rises ablaze with red flames, dyeing the sky a deep, ominous crimson.

Faced with this vision of hell on earth, Wei Tao and Zhao Qiang grew grimmer by the minute, the oppressive darkness seeming to gnaw at their souls.

“Turn on the radio, Xiao Zhao,” Wei Tao finally spoke. He had tried the car’s radio several times along the way, but had found nothing but static.

Not in the mood for banter, Zhao Qiang dutifully switched on the military radio. After nearly ten minutes of adjusting frequencies and scanning, he found nothing but silence. The chill grew heavier—if even the military band was silent, had Changsha fallen to the same fate as Yueyang?

“Look outside, Xiao Zhao,” Wei Tao’s voice, tinged with tension, cut into Zhao Qiang’s thoughts.

“Look at what? There’s not a soul out there!” Zhao Qiang peered out, preoccupied with worry for his wife, paying little heed to Wei Tao’s anxiety.

“It’s too quiet. Where did all those creatures go?” Wei Tao’s agitation mounted.

Apart from the ever-shifting streets and roaring fires, there was only silence beyond the glass. Where had the roaming zombies gone? Had they all been wiped out? Zhao Qiang’s mind whirled with questions. The armored truck crawled along, the engine’s growl and the crunch of debris echoing painfully through the darkness, yet not a single zombie appeared within the sweep of their headlights.

The atmosphere grew eerily strange. Changsha was far larger than Yueyang, and logically, the number of infected should be vastly greater. If they had been exterminated, why did abandoned armored vehicles sit intact and lifeless by the roadside?

Suddenly, a burst of frantic gunfire erupted from a nearby building. Wei Tao, instantly alert, wrenched the steering wheel, sending the armored car hurtling toward the source of the shots.

They passed two intersections before halting at the third. The gunfire came from a building just ahead. Dozens of zombies clogged the only entrance to its courtyard, clawing and shoving in their desperate attempt to get inside. A bus marked POLICE blocked the gate, stalling the horde, though some zombies, noticing a gap beneath the vehicle, began to crawl through with renewed frenzy.

Zhang Yongming, an officer from the Xingsha Police Station, had, along with his comrades, held this makeshift barricade for three days. Countless zombies had fallen to their hands; the bus’s undercarriage was packed with corpses, but the onslaught never ceased.

Having just dispatched several zombies that squeezed through a new gap, Zhang Yongming emptied the last of his six bullets. The freshly slain bodies plugged the breach, but it was only a matter of time before the next wave forced another opening.

“Any bullets left?” Zhang Yongming ejected the spent magazine. Three days of relentless fighting had left them utterly exhausted. Where once they had the strength to grapple with zombies using their service knives, now even pulling the trigger was a struggle.

“No more. Everyone’s out,” replied Li Zixin, Zhang Yongming’s steadfast partner on every assignment. He glanced at his empty chamber and shook his head helplessly.

They had burned through too much ammunition. China’s strict gun control meant even the police only ever carried six rounds. Warning shots had wasted precious bullets, and shooting anywhere but the head did nothing to stop these monsters. Only by chance did they discover that destroying their skulls would put them down for good. Gunfire and death did nothing to deter the zombies—if anything, it drew more. Now, with only two or three dozen left at the barricade, their strength and ammo were spent, and they could not counterattack.

With the bodies beneath the bus being slowly pushed out, despair crept over every face. The thought of being torn apart and joining the ranks of the undead filled Zhang Yongming with dread.

He cast a glance at two fallen colleagues, both bitten and unconscious. Half an hour earlier, in a desperate melee, Zhang Jian had been bitten on the hand, and Yu Tianyou, in his attempt to save him, was bitten on the ankle. After dragging them to safety, they found their wounds already festering and rapidly healing—a sure sign of mutation. Experience told them what would come next. But none could bring themselves to abandon their friends, so after tending the wounds as best they could, they handcuffed the pair to a railing, hoping to prevent disaster.

Zhang Yongming’s hands trembled as he brought his knife to his throat, ready to end his own life. A zombie claw had already worked its way through a gap, and the last line of defense was about to break.

Just as Zhang Yongming pressed the blade to his skin, a powerful beam of light pierced the darkness, blinding him. The roar of an engine gave him a glimmer of hope.

Gunfire—Type 81! Li Zixin, with a soldier’s ear, recognized it instantly. “We’re saved!” he shouted, snatching the knife from Zhang Yongming and plunging it into the eye socket of the zombie about to breach their line. Hope brought the men back to life; they jumped up and waved frantically at the onrushing vehicle.

Zhao Qiang took aim at the swarming zombies and squeezed the trigger. Bullets tore through the horde with lethal force. Even shots that missed the head did enough damage to fell them. Soon, after two magazines were emptied, the area was clear.

Wei Tao, shaken by the commotion and Li Zihan’s screams, shook his head to clear it, drew his sidearm, and leapt from the vehicle. Stopping Zhao Qiang, who was about to follow, he said, “You stay in the car and protect Li,” then shut the door and strode into the fray.

“Is it just the three of you?” Zhang Yongming looked at the trio climbing out of the vehicle, his brief hope now tinged with doubt. Seeing their gear, he puzzled, “Who are you? How did you get guns?”

Wei Tao produced his officer’s badge and handed it to Zhang Yongming, who, noting their uniforms and equipment, immediately recognized them as special police.

Saluting, Zhang Yongming returned the badge. Wei Tao swept his gaze over the exhausted policemen and gestured to Zhao Qiang, “This is Zhao Qiang. We just arrived from Yueyang.” At the introduction, Zhao Qiang nodded and offered a cigarette. Wei Tao continued after a pause, “That’s Li Zihan, a survivor we rescued on the road.” Li Zihan nodded shyly and fell silent again.

After brief introductions, Zhao Qiang led Zhang Yongming to the back of the armored car. Opening the door, he revealed the bounty inside, startling Zhang Yongming. Zhao Qiang handed him compressed biscuits and bottled water, snapping him out of his reverie. “See? All this gear is from the armed police in Yueyang. Not bad, huh?” Zhao Qiang grinned, proud of the arsenal—enough to outfit a whole platoon.

As Zhang Yongming returned to his comrades with the food, Wei Tao and Zhao Qiang fetched more guns and ammo and joined the group for a quick meal.

“Where are we exactly?” Xingsha belonged to Changsha County, not far from Zhao Qiang’s home—half an hour’s drive at most. But he rarely came here and had no idea of their precise location.

“This is the headquarters of Taige Group’s Changsha branch,” Zhang Yongming replied. “We’re less than fifteen kilometers from the second ring road.”

“Why not take shelter inside the building?” Zhao Qiang rubbed his nearly frozen hands and gestured at the structure behind them. “It should be safer in there. It’s freezing out here.”

“We dare not go in,” said Li Zixin, swallowing a mouthful of biscuit. “It’s crawling with those things. I checked the entrance—zombies everywhere.”

He took a sip of water and continued, “There were even more before. We barely managed to clear them out here. We have no way out, and if you hadn’t come, we’d all be dead.”

“What about those two?” Wei Tao pointed coldly at the unconscious, handcuffed officers.

“They were bitten,” Li Zixin answered, his face heavy with sorrow. “We don’t know if they’ll turn, so this was our only option.”

The two unfortunate policemen’s breathing was shallow and rapid—their condition grave. Their hands were cuffed together, with the chain looped through the railing. Even if they turned, they wouldn’t be able to harm anyone nearby, at least for a while.

Zhao Qiang squatted down to examine them. Gradually, their breathing ceased. He checked one’s pulse, glanced at his watch, and asked, “When were they bitten?”

“About an hour ago. We weren’t paying much attention at the time,” a policeman replied.

“I’m sorry, they’re gone,” Zhao Qiang said with regret, rising to leave. No breath, no pulse—they had left this world.

“Watch out!” Wei Tao shouted, dashing toward Zhao Qiang, his gun drawn in an instant.

Before Zhao Qiang could react, a strange noise came from behind him. He felt a hand clamp around his ankle before he could turn.

The instant the two officers died, the transformation from man to zombie was complete. Their newly opened eyes fixed on the fresh prey before them. In a flash, one extended a hand and seized Zhao Qiang, dragging him down as he tried to escape. The inhuman strength yanked him to the ground, and he was pulled inexorably toward the snapping jaws.

“Bang! Bang!” Two shots rang out, bullets whistling past Zhao Qiang’s ear to bury themselves in the zombies’ skulls. Wei Tao had arrived just in time, ending their threat.

“You alright?” Wei Tao asked, his cold gaze fixed on the still-twitching corpses.

Zhao Qiang wrenched his foot free, his heart pounding. He hadn’t expected the transformation to be so swift. He almost kicked the dead zombies in anger but, seeing the gathering police, restrained himself.

“Thanks, Brother Wei! I’m fine—just got a scare. Damn, what strength!” Zhao Qiang massaged his aching ankle, eyeing the handprint on his combat boot with lingering fear.

The officers stood in silence, removing their caps and bowing their heads as they mourned their fallen comrades. Suddenly, one officer lunged at Wei Tao, grabbing his collar and striking him hard across the face.

Wei Tao did not retaliate, and the others quickly separated the two. Once things calmed, Zhang Yongming approached and apologized, “Are you alright? I’m sorry—Fang Wei was the dead man’s best friend. He just couldn’t accept it.”

“I’m fine,” Wei Tao said, spitting blood to the side. “I understand.” His words remained as cold as ever.

With an embarrassed smile, Zhang Yongming turned away. Wei Tao sat on the steps, reloading his empty magazine.

Not long after, Fang Wei came over, carefully arranging his dead comrades’ bodies, straightening their uniforms, and covering their faces with their caps before walking up to Wei Tao.

“I’m sorry. I lost control. I shouldn’t have done that,” Fang Wei said, eyes red with grief.

“It’s nothing,” Wei Tao replied, not looking up from his task. “I would have done the same.”

Fang Wei lingered awkwardly, unsure what to do. Zhao Qiang, seeing this, offered him a cigarette. “Friend, my condolences. Brother Wei’s fine—he doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good man.” Zhao Qiang patted his shoulder and lit the cigarette for him. Wei Tao had just saved his life—Zhao Qiang didn’t want any misunderstandings.

Fang Wei glanced at Zhao Qiang, then at Wei Tao, muttered a hoarse “thanks,” and walked away. Watching him leave, Zhao Qiang sat down beside Wei Tao, lit a cigarette, and passed it over. “Brother Wei, what’s our next move? Should we look for my wife first?” He asked tentatively, hoping to find his wife, but feeling selfish after Wei Tao had just saved him.

“There’s no wife,” Wei Tao said harshly, taking a long drag. “I’m going to find my father.”

“So what about us?” Li Zihan sat down beside Wei Tao, feeling safer with the two men who had saved her than with the unfamiliar police.