Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Laboratory (Part Two)

“Zhao, you handle the right flank, we’ll take care of the left!” Cai Jiashu shouted, as the increasing number of zombies began to overwhelm the group.

“No problem. Conserve your ammo as much as you can. We don’t know how many more are coming. We still have to hold out for another day,” Zhao Qiang replied. He tossed all his spare magazines to Cai Jiashu and, gripping his knife, charged straight into the fray.

The hospital corridor was narrow; even two or three people side by side felt cramped. The horde of zombies couldn’t fully utilize their numbers in such confined space, making Zhao Qiang’s solo stand much more manageable. His blade flashed and fell again and again; though he was alone on the left flank, the horde was steadily pushed back.

“Switch to single fire, everyone! Ammo’s running low!” Cai Jiashu’s mind grew calmer as the fight went on. The ordinary zombies weren’t a major threat, but the absence of the Crusher—the one whose appearance he still dreaded—made him anxious. Everyone was doing their best to save bullets, but this couldn’t go on forever.

“Pang Jie, take someone and hold this position. When we push forward, use the corpses to build cover and barricades!” Cai Jiashu commanded. “The rest, with me!”

Pang Jie responded, grabbing a nearby soldier. The others followed Cai Jiashu forward, advancing through the zombie ranks. Their training showed; moments ago they’d been pressed hard, but as soon as they went on the offensive, even the overwhelming horde couldn’t withstand the pressure from this small group.

Soon, makeshift barricades built from zombie bodies were ready—three layers deep, each as tall as a man. “Cai! Fall back, now!” Pang Jie shouted. With the barricades finished, it was time to reinforce each layer into a proper roadblock. Hearing the call, Cai Jiashu and his men withdrew behind the first barrier under Pang Jie’s covering fire, using the incoming zombies to build several more barricades.

With everything in place, Cai Jiashu finally had a chance to look back. The left flank, entrusted to Zhao Qiang, had been left entirely exposed, but now, with the barricades up, it was clear: Zhao Qiang hadn’t fired a single shot, yet not a single zombie had breached his line.

“Zhao, hold on a bit longer. Once we finish these barricades, you can fall back!” Cai Jiashu called out, leading his men to build more layered barricades—this time leaving only a narrow gap, barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through.

They couldn’t afford to linger; zombies were still surging from behind. In the corner of his eye, Zhao Qiang caught sight of several zombie hounds closing in. His recovery was nearly superhuman, and his stamina hadn’t flagged, but his breath was growing short. He couldn’t be sure he could keep fighting at this intensity for a full day. As the barricade neared completion, he fired a burst to clear a path, then retreated swiftly, leaving a trail of severed limbs in his wake.

Zombie hounds were far more agile than regular zombies. Guided by some strange intelligence, they didn’t attack the ordinary undead as usual but leapt over the heads of the horde, arrowing straight for Zhao Qiang. Fortunately, he had pulled back just in time—barely ducking into the barricade as two hounds crashed into it like whirlwinds.

Sharp cracks of gunfire rang out. In the cramped entrance, the two zombie hounds found their movements restricted. Zhao Qiang, turning, blew their brains out before they could escape.

At last, a moment’s rest. Though the air still vibrated with the zombies’ hateful screeches, the corpse barricades were more than enough to hold back the ordinary undead. “Well, they can’t get in, but we can’t get out either,” Cai Jiashu said, slumping against the wall, his breathing gradually slowing as he managed a bitter laugh.

“No worries. Worst case, we get to play commando and rappel down again,” Zhao Qiang joked, but he stayed on high alert. The Crusher’s furious roar had not yet sounded. Ordinary zombies might not get through, but to a Crusher, these obstacles meant nothing.

Time slipped by. The zombie horde soon ceased their assault, eventually showing signs of retreat. By midnight, the familiar groans had faded from the entire outpatient building. With the danger apparently passed, the exhausted survivors finally relaxed and drifted into deep sleep.

All except one. In the darkness, Zhao Qiang sat with his rifle, eyes closed but ears twitching, alert to every sound in the building. The breathing of his comrades had steadied; a few even snored softly. In the laboratory, Li Zihan and Mei Qiu’s voices mingled with the hum of machines. Other than that, silence reigned.

Zhao Qiang couldn’t say why, but the unease he thought he’d laid to rest with the horde’s arrival now returned. Visible enemies weren’t frightening—it was the sense of an unseen hand manipulating the zombies, orchestrating some larger plot, that unsettled him.

In the early dawn, Mei Qiu finally completed her experiment. Li Zihan, exhausted, trailed behind, clutching a stack of documents.

“Any results?” Zhao Qiang sprang up at the sound of the lab door opening.

Mei Qiu nodded. “Let’s talk back upstairs.” She scanned the scene upon exiting; though she was a seasoned doctor, the barricades of corpses were still hard to stomach.

“Cai, I’ll scout ahead. Wait for my signal,” Zhao Qiang said.

Using the rope, he quickly descended to the building’s main hall. He hadn’t even touched the ground when a foul stench rushed over him from behind. The timing was perfect—a zombie hound, attacking while Zhao Qiang was still in midair and unable to change his posture, let alone evade its snapping jaws.

Thinking quickly, Zhao Qiang drew his knife with lightning speed and slashed the rope above. Suddenly freed, he dropped to the floor, narrowly escaping the hound’s deadly bite. But before he could regain his footing, a monstrous roar erupted behind him.

Zhao Qiang’s heart lurched. He didn’t need to turn—he knew a Crusher was close. An ambush! He cursed inwardly, but didn’t pause, dodging the Crusher’s thunderous blow by a hair’s breadth. As he steadied himself and prepared to fight, what he saw froze his blood.

Not a single ordinary zombie remained; they’d yielded the field. Two Crushers and seven or eight zombie hounds closed in, circling Zhao Qiang in the center of the hall. Like a pack of feral cats playing with a trapped mouse, they watched him, savoring the hunt.

Sensing the danger, Zhao Qiang moved instantly. He was no swordsman from a Gu Long novel, able to stand still and spot his enemy’s flaw in a single glance.

At his movement, the hounds snarled and rushed him, while the Crushers, as if disdainful of joining forces with their lesser kin, lumbered toward the main entrance, blocking his escape.

So, you know how to divide roles—now, if only you’d turn on each other, Zhao Qiang thought, dodging the hounds and racking his brain for a plan. Seven or eight hounds—he couldn’t dispatch them quickly, especially with the two Crushers lying in wait.

Under relentless pursuit, Zhao Qiang had no chance to fire or even draw his knife. With no other option, he made a desperate gamble—abruptly halting mid-run, causing the closest hounds to overshoot him in their momentum.

He didn’t waste the opportunity. In a flash, his pistol was out. Three shots, three hounds down before they could turn—each head shattered, their bodies falling limp. But there was only time for three shots; the remaining five hounds were already upon him.