Chapter 65: Subway Line 2

As Zhao Qiang awoke, Orange Isle was once again immersed in the urgent work of retreat. The soldiers, each fulfilling their roles, reinforced the armored train, guarded its security, and kept everything in order. Most ordinary citizens had already evacuated onto the armored train, whose sturdy steel plates were welded over the windows, rendering common zombies powerless against the steel leviathan. Yet, with the added weight, the locomotive—already struggling—found itself even more overwhelmed.

Fortunately, there were plenty of spare sightseeing cars on Orange Isle. Meng Longwei arranged for several additional engines at the front and rear, finally solving the issue of insufficient power. "This is practically a high-speed train," marveled a young soldier from a well-off family, accustomed to riding such trains. Unlike ordinary trains, where the power is concentrated at the engine, high-speed trains distribute power units across every carriage, allowing both traction and passenger capacity. Thus, a high-speed train set consists of several powered cars and some unpowered ones, forming a complete unit. Now this armored train, rumbling down the road, was nothing short of a moving high-speed train set.

Zhao Qiang and Saber made another trip up Mount Yuelu, finished off the intelligent zombie, and found the remaining zombies atop the mountain no match for their skills. They easily retrieved a large cache of weapons and ammunition from the warehouse, including several long-unused Type 85 anti-aircraft machine guns and tens of thousands of rounds of 12.7mm ammunition.

Zhao Qiang found the Hummer, the luxury vehicle he’d driven for less than half a day, now leaning precariously in the dense woods. Without heavy towing equipment, it was impossible for Zhao Qiang and Saber to retrieve it alone. Shaking his head with a sigh, Zhao Qiang took Saber with him, and they drove back two large trucks filled with their freshly acquired supplies, making their way safely back to Orange Isle.

“Old Meng, get a few men to unload the trucks,” Zhao Qiang shouted as he jumped from the cab, pulling Meng Longwei toward the rear compartment.

“Old Meng, look what treasures I brought you,” Zhao Qiang exclaimed, flipping back the oilcloth covering the cargo. On the truck bed, four Type 85 anti-aircraft machine guns lay quietly, awaiting their new masters.

The Type 85 machine gun was originally designed for shooting aircraft. Developed in 1985 and widely equipped by the military, it weighs 41.5 kilograms and is 2.15 meters in length, firing 12.7mm rounds capable of severing a soldier at 1,200 meters. With a magazine capacity of 60 rounds, it was used for long-range suppression during the eight-year Sino-Vietnamese border conflict, causing heavy casualties on both sides. The gun was a simplified version of the Type 77, reduced in weight but retaining its core components and performance; typically, it could be operated by a single soldier.

Seeing such a formidable weapon, Meng Longwei’s eyes gleamed. The standard Type 95 rifle was effective against common infantry or ordinary zombies, but against the powerful Crushers, the 5.8mm rounds were almost useless—they stung like mosquito bites, barely causing any damage. Now, with these potent anti-aircraft machine guns, Crushers were no longer a concern.

Eager to put the guns to use, Meng Longwei immediately ordered a retrofit of the armored train. Watching the machine guns now mounted atop several carriages, surveying the land with imposing might, Meng Longwei felt even more confident about the success of their evacuation.

The Changsha Metro project, begun in 2009, had reached its fourth year. The first phase of Line 2, stretching from Lugu Avenue to the new Changsha Railway Station, spanned 23.15 kilometers. The tunnel was now fully connected, with only the laying of tracks and interior finishing left undone—making it a safe passage for the armored train.

With everyone evacuated onto the train, the once bustling Orange Isle was now empty. Meng Longwei stood at the train’s head, while Zhao Qiang and Zou Lin sat nearby. Meng Longwei waved his hand and shouted, “Depart!” The armored train slowly entered the metro tunnel.

Due to its immense weight and length, the train moved slowly; a derailment at a curve could prove disastrous. In the pitch-black subway tunnel, beams from searchlights pierced the darkness. The original construction workers were either dead or gone, leaving only countless zombies wandering near the site. The deafening roar of the diesel engines echoed in the confined space, drawing the wandering zombies toward the armored train.

“If it weren’t for this disaster, Changsha’s metro would be up and running in two years,” Zhao Qiang mused, watching the approaching zombies without concern, merely lamenting the grand project brought to a halt by catastrophe.

“Yes, what a shame. But this must be Changsha’s first subway,” Meng Longwei replied. After years serving in Changsha, he felt a deep affection for the city—a thriving metropolis now turned into a ghost town, enough to make anyone sigh in regret.

Tools still lay scattered across the roadbed. With the tunnel opened, the heavy machinery had gradually withdrawn, but the tools littering the ground seemed to remind survivors of the once spectacular scene.

“Report! A large horde of zombies ahead, blocking our path. Request permission to fire.” The zombie army had cut off the train's route; the front was packed solid. The driver slowed, and the communicator relayed the situation through the wired broadcast. The train gradually came to a halt.

Meng Longwei could no longer indulge in nostalgia. He nodded and said, “Pass along my order: gunners, prepare to fire at will.”

The blinding searchlights immediately targeted the zombie horde. The gunners threw open the newly installed covers, swiftly mounted the anti-aircraft machine guns, and with a sharp click, loaded the rounds. The zombies, oblivious to danger, continued to howl and charge at the armored train.

“Fire!” At the command, the gunners donned earplugs and pressed the firing buttons.

The rapid, thunderous roar of machine gun fire reverberated through the tunnel. The 12.7mm rounds streaked with red-hot tracer fire, whistling into the zombie masses.

The Type 85 machine gun could theoretically fire 650–750 rounds per minute, with a combat rate of 80 rounds per minute. Its effective range was 1,500 meters in direct fire, capable of using armor-piercing, incendiary, and explosive rounds, supplied by open-linked belts or boxes—powerful and sustained.

The soldiers, besieged by zombies on Orange Isle for so long, had been conserving ammunition, unable to fully vent their rage. Now, with upgraded weapons and ample ammo, they seized the opportunity, loading every type of round—armor-piercing, incendiary, whatever they could use—without hesitation onto the belts.

The four anti-aircraft machine guns blazed, their barrels glowing red-hot, spent shells clattering beside the train and piling into four small mountains. Bullets rained down on the zombie horde, mowing them down like wheat, falling in swathes.

One gunner pulled a cigarette from his chest, lit it on the glowing barrel, took a satisfied drag, and exclaimed, “Damn, now that’s what I call a thrill!”