Chapter Four

On the Jingzhu Expressway, devastation stretched as far as the eye could see. The aftermath of countless accidents littered the road; many rear-ended cars still belched thick black smoke into the sky, and here and there, a few zombies wandered among the wreckage.

Wei Tao drove with undivided attention. The highway, once a smooth and convenient route, had turned into a slaughterhouse. Debris of every kind made the journey treacherous, and hellish fiends roamed freely. He maneuvered carefully around obstacles and zombies, but if one wandered into his path, he simply ran it over.

Zhao Qiang, cradling his rifle, dozed off slouched in the passenger seat. They had been driving for the better part of the day, yet were still crawling along within the boundaries of Yueyang. A violent jolt roused Zhao Qiang from his light sleep—the armored cash transport had just crushed an unlucky zombie beneath its wheels.

“How do you tell if someone’s a zombie?” Zhao Qiang adjusted his posture and glanced in the rearview mirror at the mangled, desperate creature they’d just run over.

“It’s simple. If it’s a normal person, they’ll wave their arms and hide by the roadside, not charge straight at us,” Wei Tao replied, his eyes never leaving the road. Where the conditions allowed, he’d instinctively accelerate.

“Have you come across any survivors?” The question felt foolish, but Zhao Qiang asked it anyway.

Wei Tao shot him a glance but remained silent. The anxiety etched on his face was answer enough as he pressed the accelerator a little harder. So much time had passed, abandoned cars littered the highway, and all they’d seen were the dead. Once, he’d stopped beside a Mazda that looked like it might be occupied. But from behind its window appeared a grotesquely decayed face, pressing against the glass as if drawn by the scent of living flesh. Its features twisted, viscous drool oozed from its mouth, and in that instant, Wei Tao gave up hope of ever finding survivors.

“We’re almost out of fuel,” Wei Tao said, glancing at the gauge. “Ten minutes at most.”

Zhao Qiang pulled out his phone and launched Google Maps. He’d noticed earlier that although the internet was down, GPS satellites still worked, and after years of commuting between Changsha and Yueyang, he had the maps saved locally. A quick check revealed a gas station not far ahead.

The China Petroleum station stood forlorn by the roadside. In the once-busy rest area, cars still crowded every space, but the old bustle was gone. Not far off, a silver BMW was wedged violently against the median; the driver’s corpse had crashed through the windshield and now sprawled motionless over the deformed hood.

The cash transport rolled slowly into the station and stopped beside a pump. For a moment, neither man got out. After a few horn blasts, several figures in gas station uniforms began shuffling over, as if to offer service to their guests.

“Twenty-eight in all.” Wei Tao’s training as a special forces officer shone through; Zhao Qiang was still stuck on fifteen.

“Check your weapon. Load your ammo,” Wei Tao ordered. He drew his Type 77 pistol. “Do as I do. One target each, aim for one shot per kill.” With that, he opened his door and stepped out.

Zhao Qiang didn’t reach for his pistol—he wasn’t confident enough yet for precise shooting—so he kept his trusty Type 81 rifle. He shut the car door and followed the already disembarked Wei Tao into a fight that, in truth, would not be fierce.

The battle lasted less than three minutes. Twenty-eight zombies lay scattered and lifeless on the ground. Wei Tao surveyed the scene, reloaded, and then dispatched any still-twitching corpses with bullets to the head before returning to refuel the truck.

Zhao Qiang watched Wei Tao’s back, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest. The zombies left writhing were his handiwork; even at close range, his shooting had been erratic. A full thirty-round magazine had brought down only twelve zombies, some of whom were still moving. In contrast, every one of Wei Tao’s sixteen shots was a clean headshot. Had Wei Tao not finished off the stragglers, Zhao Qiang might have been bitten when his guard was down.

The tank filled quickly, but Wei Tao wasn’t satisfied. He instructed Zhao Qiang to stand guard while he searched the station for fuel canisters. Better to stock up, he reasoned—it could only help in the days ahead.

Wei Tao’s silhouette vanished into the station’s offices. Around them was emptiness. A few zombies on the other side of the highway, blocked by the divider, waved their arms helplessly. Zhao Qiang raised his rifle and aimed at them, but didn’t fire. He knew his marksmanship—at this distance, hitting a zombie in the head was less likely than winning the lottery, and the gunfire might attract more of the horde.

Suddenly, three shots rang out from within the office area. Zhao Qiang stiffened—Wei Tao was in trouble. Without hesitation, he dashed inside.

Darkness reigned in the unlit hall. Zhao Qiang rushed in, guided by the sound of Wei Tao swearing. He found him pinned to the floor by a zombie; his Type 77 lay discarded nearby, as did three zombies with bullet-shattered skulls. The creature’s teeth clamped down on Wei Tao’s right hand, while his left gripped its throat in a desperate attempt to keep it at bay. The zombie was strong; Wei Tao had struggled long and hard, unable to break free, cursing all the while.

Zhao Qiang charged forward, shouting, “Hey! Over here, you bastard!” Distracted by the noise, the zombie turned its dead eyes toward Zhao Qiang, momentarily forgetting the man beneath it. A sickening crack followed as Zhao Qiang smashed the creature’s skull with his rifle butt, too wary of hitting Wei Tao to use his gun.

Freed at last, Wei Tao scrambled to his feet and stomped the zombie’s head a few times before removing his glove to check his hand. It was bruised and swollen from the bite, but the skin was intact. “Thank goodness for these cut-resistant gloves,” he muttered, retrieving his pistol.

“There’s someone behind that door,” he said quietly. He’d come over after hearing movement, found three zombies trying to break into a locked room, and shot them. But then a fourth had lunged from the shadows, and only his gloves and Zhao Qiang’s timely arrival had saved him.

Zhao Qiang listened at the door, then stopped Wei Tao from forcing it open. “Can you still shoot?” he whispered.

Wei Tao flexed his hand. “No problem. This is nothing.”

Zhao Qiang nodded, passed him the rifle, and said, “I’ll open the door. You cover me.” If there were zombies inside, Wei Tao would be more effective with a gun.

He turned the handle; the door wasn’t locked. Zombies, driven by instinct, had forgotten how to open doors and only battered at the panels. Zhao Qiang threw the door open, ducked, and rolled aside to give Wei Tao a clear shot.

Inside was a room like a dormitory, thoroughly ransacked. In the corner by the window, a woman in civilian clothes hugged her knees, trembling. When the door opened, she looked up, despair etched on her face. Seeing them, she lowered her head in exhaustion. Wei Tao kept his weapon trained on her, not letting his guard down, but quickly saw there were no other threats.

They stopped a safe distance from the shivering woman.

“Who are you?” Zhao Qiang asked.

She looked up again, revealing a delicate face framed by long hair. Her eyes, though filled with fear and exhaustion, were clear. “Don’t come any closer,” she pleaded, her lips cracked and bleeding.

A survivor! Both men exhaled in relief—a spark of hope for their own families. Wei Tao showed his police badge and, with repeated gentle persuasion from both men, the woman finally let her guard down. Zhao Qiang escorted her to the truck, while Wei Tao packed the fuel canisters and whatever food he could find in the convenience store.

After some food, color returned to the girl’s face, and she recounted her story. Her name was Li Zihan, and she had worked at the gas station. One night, after her shift, she stayed in the dorm to wait for the company shuttle and fell asleep. When she awoke, disaster had struck. She’d seen the station manager devoured alive by familiar coworkers, and, terrified, she hid in the dorm with the broken lock and never left.

“You’re lucky,” Zhao Qiang remarked, watching her stuff bread into her mouth, heedless of her appearance.

“They couldn’t open doors. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have survived to meet you,” she mumbled, washing down the bread with water.

Wei Tao, meanwhile, finished loading a magazine and, as Li Zihan opened another bag of chips, snatched it from her hands.

“No more. You’ll eat yourself to death,” he said coldly. The dashboard was littered with empty wrappers—five boxes of biscuits, three loaves of bread, and countless snacks, plus her third bottle of water.

Zhao Qiang realized she hadn’t eaten in nearly four days, and he’d foolishly kept handing her food. He stopped, seeing her longing glance at the chips.

“He’s right. It’s for your own good,” he said gently, pointing to Wei Tao, who was calmly loading more rounds. “If you eat any more, our rescue will be in vain.”

Li Zihan’s eyes welled with tears as she stared at the chips Wei Tao had tossed aside, then burst into sobs.

The outburst startled Zhao Qiang, and even the usually stoic Wei Tao fumbled a bullet.

It took all of Zhao Qiang’s effort to calm her down. Wei Tao resumed loading his magazines, detached as ever. Though Li Zihan’s sobbing subsided, her shoulders still trembled, but the ordeal seemed to have eased her distress.

She looked at Zhao Qiang, then at Wei Tao, before turning back to Zhao Qiang. “Can you take me home? My family’s in Yueyang. Just drop me off at the city exit.”

Before Zhao Qiang could answer, Wei Tao cut in flatly, “No.”

Tears welled again, and Zhao Qiang quickly explained, “It’s not that we don’t want to help, but we just came from Yueyang and, well…” He trailed off, realizing what he was about to say.

“What happened? Tell me!” Desperate, Li Zihan clung to his arm, shaking him for answers.

Zhao Qiang couldn’t bear to tell her the truth. When they left the paramilitary base and drove through Yueyang’s city center, there had been no sign of human life. Cold-hearted as Wei Tao seemed, he had searched several key locations, but aside from hordes of zombies trailing behind, they found nothing.

“Yueyang is gone. Maybe there are a few shelters, but you’ll never reach them alive. We’re heading for Changsha,” Wei Tao said, still cold. “You have two choices: stay here and find your own way to Yueyang, or come with us to Changsha.” Zhao Qiang shared his destination and, being capable of some self-defense, Wei Tao didn’t object to traveling together.

Li Zihan was frail and untrained, a burden in their perilous journey. Wei Tao didn’t want to leave her alone to die, nor did he wish to risk his limited time for a stranger. Nearly half a day had been spent covering less than seventy kilometers, and much of it had been for her sake. He was painfully aware that his own family might not last much longer under these conditions.

“Come with us. At least you’ll be safer. Brother Wei and I can protect you,” Zhao Qiang urged gently. Without protection, she would be torn apart by zombies before long. Since Wei Tao had crushed her hopes of returning home, Zhao Qiang tried to offer a different kind of hope.

After a long hesitation, Li Zihan made her decision. “I’ll go with you.” Tears streamed down her delicate face once more.

Wei Tao said nothing, but he had expected this. As a policeman, as a man, he could not abandon her, even if she was a stranger. He started the engine, and the armored cash transport rolled once more toward the unknown.