Chapter Eighty-Nine: The Fierce Battle at the Airport, Part Two

“An RPG? What on earth is that? I’ve never even heard of a grenade launcher like that.”

Zhao Qiang was still baffled when Cai Jiashu sprang forward and threw himself on top of him, driving him flat to the floor.

A thunderous blast followed, and a row of seats not far behind the squad was blasted into dust and ash.

“What the hell?” Zhao Qiang’s vision was filled with spinning stars from the shock, and his ears rang so violently he could hear nothing else. Cai Jiashu’s face was twisted with fury as he shouted something at the top of his lungs, but the ringing in Zhao Qiang’s ears swallowed every word.

He shook his head hard. Dust and debris slid down from his hair. Only then did he begin to come to his senses, and Cai Jiashu’s voice gradually grew clear: “Are you insane? An RPG’s coming and you still don’t hit the deck?”

“What’s an RPG?” Zhao Qiang was still dazed.

“You’ve heard of an RPG, right? It’s that thing,” Cai Jiashu snapped in a hurry, then turned and barked, “Team A, count off!”

One after another, voices called out that they were safe. The knot in Zhao Qiang’s chest finally loosened. Fortunately, everyone had only been shaken; no one had been hurt.

“Eleven o’clock!” Cai Jiashu quickly located the RPG firing position. A few Black Warriors were crouching skulkingly behind cover. The long, awkward shape of the launcher had given them away. By then they had already confirmed that the first rocket had done nothing, and a second was ready. The leader among those Black Warriors had once again aimed the RPG at the squad.

Before Cai Jiashu could even fire, a sharp gunshot rang out. The RPG on the Black Warrior’s shoulder burst apart at once, and the ammunition beside it detonated in a chain reaction. After a roar that shook the hall, everything fell completely silent.

“What’s going on?” Cai Jiashu was baffled too. The safety on his rifle had not even been switched off yet, so where had that shot come from?

“Old Cai!”

Chen Ergou, carrying his Type 88 sniper rifle, suddenly jumped out from nowhere and slapped Cai Jiashu hard on the shoulder.

“Ergou? What are you doing here?” Cai Jiashu asked, puzzled. As a sniper, Ergou was supposed to be providing perimeter fire support in this operation. Why had he run inside?

Chen Ergou was so frustrated he could have exploded. The total number of shots he had fired today could be counted on one hand: a few patrolmen on the roof of the terminal, then that unlucky fellow who had walked right up to the window on his own. After that, because of the lighting, he could not make out anything inside the terminal at all, let alone fire in support.

Even without seeing clearly, he could still catch glimpses of the battle inside through his scope. The intermittent gunfire and explosions, the frequent flashes of light—he had long since guessed how fierce the fighting in the terminal must be.

Once he understood that, how could he possibly sit still? Without another word, Chen Ergou grabbed his spotter and charged straight toward the terminal. As a sniper, it was not enough to sit in one fixed nest and pick off targets; more often, one had to provide strategic cover for one’s comrades. Just after Ergou found the squad’s position, he saw that incoming RPG screaming through the air.

Because of the angle, Chen Ergou had no chance to take a direct shot at the operator. He could only watch helplessly as the rocket flew toward the comrades he had fought beside day after day. The smoke and flames of the explosion blocked his view. The violent shock and deafening roar blurred his judgment. Ergou only felt as though that RPG had struck his own heart head-on and torn it into pieces.

At last, when the smoke cleared and he saw that the squad had merely been left a little battered and disheveled, Ergou’s heart finally settled back into place. Hearing Cai Jiashu shout “Eleven o’clock,” he instinctively shouldered his Type 88. Through the scope, he locked the Black Warrior carrying the RPG firmly in his sights.

Chen Ergou was angry, and the consequences were serious. That rocket had almost taken one of his brothers’ lives, and those bastards still dared to come again. He could not see the expression beneath the Black Warrior’s mask, but he could imagine the snarling smiles behind those faces. His rage surged once more, yet he did not let it cloud his mind. He knew that simply shooting the man in the head would be far too kind for those beasts. So he set the crosshairs directly on the larger-looking warhead of the RPG. At that critical instant, the scene unfolded exactly as it had just happened.

“Enough chatter. Old Cai, how was that shot of mine just now?” Chen Ergou said with a shameless grin, punching Cai Jiashu lightly in the chest. The faint glimmer at the corner of his eye went unnoticed by anyone.

“Get lost. You’re nowhere near as good as me. Since you’re here... Chen Ergou, rejoin the team!”

Cai Jiashu deliberately kept his face stern, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth could not hide the pride in his heart. No matter how flashy Ergou might be, he was still his brother—and Cai Jiashu now owed that brother a life.

“Nice one, Ergou, haha.”

Zhao Qiang had returned to his position and, without turning around, bumped Ergou with his shoulder.

The squad resumed its search. The RPG team among the Black Warriors had already been wiped out. The Black Warriors had never been a match for the squad to begin with, and once they lost a weapon like that, their remaining will to resist collapsed completely. One after another, they came out from behind cover with their rifles in hand, heads hanging low, and surrendered.

The squad had no choice but to stop and gather the prisoners inside the terminal. Neither Zhao Qiang nor Cai Jiashu had any intention of killing captives. So long as the enemy laid down their weapons and stopped resisting, Zhao Qiang would not make things hard for this defeated lot. They were bound with handcuffs and ropes, and as for how they would be dealt with later, that could wait until after the trial.

The terminal was enormous. Gathering prisoners and taking care of the rescued hostages were both extremely complicated tasks. The prisoners were easy enough; having lost all will to resist, they were more obedient than sheep. With a single shout, they would huddle together in a corner and squat there; told to do something, they would do it. But the rescued hostages were another matter entirely, and they gave Zhao Qiang a real headache.

Aside from the last faint glimmers of humanity in their eyes, the hostages inside the terminal were almost no different from the zombies outside. For the sake of a meal, they had already been thoroughly broken in by the previous managers, too frightened to step even half a line out of bounds. When the first wave of invaders came, it shattered the last sliver of their mental defense. The invaders raped, plundered, and murdered without restraint. Under the threat of guns and fire, the entire group collapsed completely and became living dead—incapable of anger, sorrow, or fear. To them, the squad’s arrival and the renewed battle were like a stage play in a theater: dull, unreal, and utterly without feeling.

The squad wore their tongues raw trying to persuade them, but nothing worked. Whether it was earnest exhortation or blustering threats, these people who had already lost their souls would not listen. Their vacant eyes stared upward at an angle, and their numb expressions were like knots of dead wood.

“Brother Zhao, something’s wrong,” someone said after finding Zhao Qiang, his face full of anxiety. “I can’t find my comrades or Division Commander Wang. And there’s a girl named Peng Sha who isn’t here either.”