Chapter Fifty-Three: Orange Isle

“Safe travels,” Zhao Qiang said, patting Huang Jianguo’s shoulder as he sat in the armored cash transport’s driver’s seat. The vehicle was parked not far away—Qiang had easily driven it over, sketched a simple map for Huang, and explained a few things to watch out for. He handed over the cache of weapons and ammunition seized from Ma Tianxiong to Huang and his crew for safekeeping. After watching Huang handle the firearms with practiced ease, Zhao Qiang finally felt at ease and saw everyone aboard the truck.

At the bar’s entrance stood a heavily modified Humvee H6. The narrow passageway in front of the bar was now half-blocked by this behemoth: a height of 1.96 meters, nearly 2 meters across, and a length of 5.79 meters. Its boxy, muscular frame, with sharp, powerful angles, looked every bit the steel beast.

Zhao Qiang fell for the vehicle at first sight. It had belonged to Ma Tianxiong, and now that Ma was taken care of, the Humvee was Zhao Qiang’s by right. He climbed in, sinking into the seat of a luxury American car he’d only ever dreamed of before. The design was as blunt and bold as its countrymen, yet every detail was just right. Inside, it was fitted with automatic cruise control and a driving computer—everything you’d expect. The extended chassis had been refitted as a mini-bar, with leather sofas and a walnut wood cabinet, exuding pure extravagance. Zou Lin, giddy as a child, ran her hands over the sofa and opened the bar’s fridge, her face alight with excitement.

Zhao Qiang smiled, gently pressed the accelerator, and the V8 engine roared to life. Shifting into drive, he felt the sudden surge as the Humvee thundered onto the road.

From time to time, zombies hurled themselves at their path, howling. But before the Humvee’s might, they were paper-mâché—utterly powerless against this steel monster. Zhao Qiang maneuvered carefully around the occasional Crusher that emerged; the H6 was tough, but even he wouldn’t pit it headlong against those brutal creatures.

Soon, with Zhao Qiang’s expert handling, they drove onto the First Xiang River Bridge. Looking down at Orange Isle below, the giant statue of the Great Leader still stood proudly by the riverside, gazing over the rolling current. There were people on the island! As they crossed the approach, Zhao Qiang was surprised to see tall walls erected on Orange Isle, with people moving inside.

Curious now, he steered the Humvee onto the island. He’d once considered this place himself; it was no surprise others had done the same.

At the entrance, he brought the Humvee to a halt. Where once a wide road lay open, there now stood a towering wall and a heavy iron gate. With no choice, Zhao Qiang parked at the gate and tapped the horn twice.

A small window in the gate creaked open. A man’s face appeared, topped with a military cap and marked by a rugged, intimidating air. His wary eyes fixed on the Humvee. “Who are you?” he barked.

Zhao Qiang rolled down the window and leaned out. “We’re just ordinary people, passing through and looking for a place to rest.”

“How many of you?” the man demanded.

“Just two—my sister and I. We mean no harm.” Zhao Qiang signaled Zou Lin to roll down her window as well.

The man scrutinized them for a moment longer, then slammed the little window shut.

“Seriously? That’s it?” Zhao Qiang muttered under his breath. He understood, though—in these times, a little carelessness could mean total annihilation. Starting the Humvee, he was about to turn around when the iron gate began to creak open.

Zou Lin let out a quiet cheer as the Humvee rolled onto Orange Isle’s grounds. Zhao Qiang didn’t need to look; his instincts told him they were surrounded. A glint from afar confirmed at least one sniper had them in his sights—any sudden move and the shot would come without hesitation.

The car doors opened, and several burly men in military attire approached, all armed with QBZ-95 rifles. Their formation was tight, perfectly positioned to strike at any moment.

Zhao Qiang climbed down, unfazed by the display. Though there was tension and a hint of hostility, the men’s bearing radiated discipline and righteousness, dispelling any concern over their identity. Slowly, Zhao Qiang reached down and undid the strap of the holster at his thigh.

Seeing this, the men tensed instantly, rifles snapping up and safeties clicking off, every dark muzzle aimed at Zhao Qiang’s head. Their leader barked, “What do you think you’re doing? Don’t move!”

Zhao Qiang gave a slight smile, raising his left hand in a placating gesture. With his right, he pinched the pistol’s grip between thumb and forefinger, drawing it out slowly. “Easy, we mean no harm,” he said calmly. Then he squatted, gently set the gun on the ground, stepped back with his hands raised, and clearly showed he was unthreatening.

The men finally eased, their rifles lowering just a bit as the tension receded. The officer holstered his own weapon, strode forward, and picked up the pistol. He checked it with practiced efficiency—racking the slide, clearing the chamber, removing the magazine—then tucked it into his waistband. With a gesture, his men pointed their rifles at the ground and stood down.

“There’s a woman in the car. If you don’t mind, I’ll ask her to come out,” Zhao Qiang said, lowering his hands.

The officer nodded. Under the watchful eyes of the soldiers, Zhao Qiang tapped the window, and Zou Lin stepped out.

Following the officer, Zhao Qiang and Zou Lin were led to the group’s rest area. Once, this had been the Orange Isle administration offices; after the disaster, the soldiers who had retreated here converted it into a makeshift shelter. The island already had extensive infrastructure, including unfinished subway lines. To prevent zombies from crossing the dried riverbed, the soldiers and surviving civilians had united to build this sanctuary above the river.

Inside a temporary office, the officer who had first greeted Zhao Qiang sat behind a desk. His wariness remained, though curiosity now mingled with it. Coldly, he asked, “Who are you? What brings you here?”

Zhao Qiang smiled faintly. “My sister and I have a younger brother on the west bank. We were on our way to find him. When we saw there were survivors here, we thought we’d stop by.” Seeing the officer’s skeptical look, Zhao Qiang knew he was suspect. So he recounted their recent experiences, leaving out only the most violent parts.

“So you’re just passing through?” The officer still sounded doubtful. While Zhao Qiang had been speaking, his men had searched the Humvee—everything inside matched Zhao Qiang’s story. The officer also noted the honest resolve in Zhao Qiang’s eyes, and was mostly convinced.

Zhao Qiang nodded. “Just the two of us, and one is an unarmed woman—do you think we could fool you? Colonel, could you have your men stand down? I don’t like having a gun pointed at my head all the time.” As he spoke, his gaze drifted meaningfully to the window.

The colonel laughed and stood, reaching out his right hand as his left signaled outside. Zhao Qiang stepped forward, clasped the colonel’s hand, and joined in the laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sniper’s glint vanish.

“Zhao Qiang!”

“Meng Longwei!”

The two men shook hands for nearly two minutes before letting go. Sweat beaded on Meng Longwei’s brow as he clapped Zhao Qiang on the shoulder, laughing like an old friend as he strode out of the office, his right hand swinging loosely at his side.