Chapter 22: The New Humanity

Wei Tao felt a surge of nervousness. Zhao Qiang had only been gone for half a day when the modified bus reappeared, brazenly parking at the back entrance as if nothing could touch it. Leaving the women in the surveillance room, Wei Tao, accompanied by Zhang Yongming, strode out with a grave expression.

Zhang Yongming took up his position behind a makeshift barricade, ready and alert. Wei Tao opened the gate. No matter what your intentions are, tonight I will end this once and for all, he resolved silently, preparing himself for the worst. His gun holster was loosened, ready to draw in an instant.

The bus rolled slowly through the back gate, its exterior plastered with riot shields from repeated modifications, making it impossible for Wei Tao to discern what was inside. Soon, it halted in the center of the loading area.

The handle of the driver’s door twitched. Wei Tao’s finger jerked involuntarily, and hidden nearby, Zhang Yongming released the safety on his weapon, his palm damp with tension. As the bus door swung open and the figure leaped out, both men let out a quiet breath of relief.

"You’re back already?" Zhang Yongming holstered his gun and strode over, punching the newcomer lightly in the chest.

"What, not happy to see me?" Zhao Qiang grinned, his face still swollen.

"What’s the meaning of this?" Wei Tao asked coldly, gesturing at the bus.

Zhao Qiang glanced back at the vehicle he’d driven in and shrugged carelessly. "A gift."

In the lounge, Zhao Qiang sat on the sofa recounting his tale. Li Zihan stood beside him, carefully wiping away the dried blood from his forehead.

"So, Li Zixin is dead?" Wei Tao’s voice was icy.

"He should be. I cut his throat myself. Unless he found a surgeon and a full set of equipment within ten minutes, he’s done for," Zhao Qiang replied, casting a grateful look at Li Zihan, who was tending to him.

"Don’t move," Li Zihan murmured, not pausing in her work.

"And the others?" Wei Tao pressed on.

Obediently, Zhao Qiang sat up straight and replied, "The others will be fine. I just knocked them out and left them at the convenience store."

He glanced at Zhang Yongming, who sat in silence, his face clouded. Zhao Qiang shrugged apologetically. "Old Zhang, I’m sorry for what happened today. After all, they were your colleagues and friends. I’m sorry."

Zhang Yongming shook his head with a bitter smile. "They brought it on themselves. No one else is to blame."

A heavy silence descended. Zhao Qiang felt uneasy. Previously, all he’d killed were zombies—monsters not of this world—but today, he had taken the life of a living man. Once the adrenaline faded, all he could see were those terrified eyes.

"Brother Zhao, are you sure the blood on your forehead is your own?" Li Zihan suddenly broke the silence, noticing that there was no wound on Zhao Qiang’s brow.

Zhao Qiang chuckled and reached for his forehead. "Didn’t I tell you, it’s right…" He stopped mid-sentence, his fingers exploring his skin, confusion dawning as he realized the wound from the police baton had vanished in just a few hours.

"It was right here…" he murmured, glancing from his hand to the bloodied cotton ball Li Zihan had set aside.

"Your wound is gone," Wei Tao observed coolly, as if unsurprised.

Li Zihan shook her head. "That’s impossible! No one heals that fast!"

Wei Tao didn’t argue. Instead, he tugged open his shirt to reveal a scar on his abdomen. "Gunshot wound from last night’s firefight," he stated, his tone cold. "I didn’t tell anyone. By this morning, it was already like this."

"I don’t know the reason, but it’s real. You, me, maybe others—we might all have gained superhuman healing abilities," Wei Tao said, revealing his discovery.

"You mean, all of us could have this power?" Zhao Qiang realized.

Wei Tao shook his head. "I don’t know about the others. But for the two of us, it’s definitely happened."

Zhao Qiang sprang to his feet, recalling the look in Li Zixin’s eyes as he fell—there had been something more than fear there.

"I’ll be right back!" he shouted, grabbed his gun, and dashed out.

When Zhao Qiang arrived at the convenience store, he found he was too late. The shutter he’d closed himself was already open. The police officers were gone, and Li Zixin’s corpse had vanished. Only congealed bloodstains and scattered shell casings proved it had not all been a fevered dream.

Back at the supermarket, Zhao Qiang flung himself onto the sofa, his companions already guessing the outcome of his trip.

"He’s still alive," Zhao Qiang said, dejected. "By the time I got there, they’d already escaped."

Breaking the silence, Zhang Yongming said, "Since they’re gone, let it be. After you left, we did an experiment. We found that everyone except me has this ability."

"What?" Zhao Qiang leaped up, grabbing Zhang Yongming’s arm. "You mean you all have it?"

Zhang Yongming held out his hand, displaying a fresh but already healed cut. "Except me," he said with a wry smile.

Zhao Qiang sank back onto the sofa, overwhelmed by these mounting changes. After some thought, he asked, "If everyone has this ability, why don’t you?"

Zhang Yongming could only shake his head. While the others had gained superhuman bodies, he remained unchanged—a failure in his own eyes. "Lately I’ve felt exhausted, listless, always wanting to sleep. Maybe that’s my change," he said, self-mockingly.

They discussed the matter long into the night but found no answers. On one point, however, all agreed: since the disaster, everything had changed, and perhaps it was all connected to the Mayans, who had once prophesied such calamity.

Though the group accepted this, Zhao Qiang found it almost laughable. The Mayans—a mysterious, ancient people who vanished after Europeans discovered the Americas, leaving only questions. Their greatest fame came from predicting a disaster that would destroy the world at the end of the Fifth Sun. But the world had not ended; what was destroyed was human civilization.

To unravel the mystery within himself, would he have to travel to distant America in search of that lost civilization? Zhao Qiang shook his head, trying to banish the absurd thought. Why waste time on such things, when he should be focusing on finding his wife?