Chapter Sixty-Six: Sandworms

The armored train rumbled forward slowly within the subway tunnel. Although the ground had been leveled to some extent, the mass of severed limbs and mangled bodies forced the train to crawl along at the pace of an ox-cart. Four anti-aircraft machine guns blazed, their barrels glowing red-hot, spent casings scattered across the floor.

“This isn’t going to work,” Meng Longwei muttered, his initial excitement replaced by anxious lines etched deep into his face. Indeed, the endless tide of zombies pouring in from all directions made their firepower seem woefully inadequate. The machine guns were formidable—every burst of bullets shredded scores of the undead—but no matter how many they felled, the horde showed no sign of thinning. Ammunition was finite, after all. Once the guns ran dry, they’d be less useful than a firewood stick. What’s more, the slick, viscous blood and mangled remains underfoot made it increasingly difficult for the armored train to push forward.

“Maybe I should go up front and take a look. I bet there’s a big-brained zombie causing trouble ahead. If we take it out, the way might clear up,” Zhao Qiang suggested. He called the evolved, intelligent zombies “Big Heads.” With so many undead converging here, it was almost certain that one or two had evolved intelligence. The focused attack on their armored train made Zhao Qiang suspect this was a coordinated assault under a Big Head’s command.

Zou Lin grabbed Zhao Qiang’s hand, her voice urgent. “Qiang, you’re still not recovered. You can’t risk yourself again.”

Meng Longwei agreed. “He’s right, Zhao. This isn’t the time for reckless moves. In a place like this, whether or not there’s a Big Head, these zombies will attack us without hesitation—we’re the only anomaly here, and the noise from our four machine guns isn’t helping.” His analysis was spot on. Even without a Big Head, in these cramped confines, the horde’s behavior would be much the same. He continued, “The environment here is too harsh. Beyond the reach of our searchlights, we can’t see a thing. And if you rushed ahead, we’d lose our firepower advantage.”

Zhao Qiang nodded and sat back, helpless. Meng Longwei was right—bullets don’t discriminate. If he charged out, not only might he fail to find the Big Head, but the train’s gunners would be reluctant to fire straight ahead for fear of hitting him. With an effective range of 1,500 meters, no one could guarantee Zhao wouldn’t stray into the line of fire.

The zombies surged relentlessly from every direction. A machine gun mounted at the front cleared the path; its firepower tore open a passage wide enough for the armored train to squeeze through, crushing blood and bodies beneath its treads. Two more guns along the sides swept away any undead that drew too close. The greatest danger was the train being toppled from the middle by the press of bodies—if one car went down, the rest would soon follow. The gun at the rear was the least busy. Once the train passed, few zombies remained, and the sluggish ones could only choke on the diesel fumes left behind.

The train lurched and halted, crept and stopped, the darkness making it impossible to gauge its progress. Now and then, someone would venture a glance toward an exit to reorient their direction before proceeding. Working in concert, they advanced with difficulty but managed to keep moving. Occasional Brutes—hulking zombies—posed little threat; the 12.7mm rounds tore their powerful bodies to bloody shreds with a single burst. A few ordinary zombies slipped past, but the thick armor rendered their efforts futile.

Halfway through the tunnel, Zou Lin suddenly clutched Zhao Qiang’s arm. “Qiang, do you hear that?”

His ears were filled with the thunder of machine guns, his thoughts wandering to wonder how much farther the tunnel stretched. He hadn’t noticed any sounds beyond the gunfire. But seeing the solemn look on Zou Lin’s face, he asked, “What did you hear?”

She shook her head, brow furrowed, listening intently. “I think… I think there’s a train coming.”

A train? Zhao Qiang found it almost laughable. There weren’t even tracks laid here—what train could possibly be coming? Surely, their own armored train was the only one in this tunnel. Maybe the girl was so anxious, so claustrophobic, she was hearing things. He was about to reassure her when Meng Longwei, too, frowned and said, “Something’s definitely coming.”

At that, Zhao Qiang tilted his head and listened. Beneath the gunfire, the diesel engine’s roar, and the zombies’ howling, another sound lurked—a strange noise, easily missed if one wasn’t paying attention.

The sound grew louder, as if something massive was scraping its way through the tunnel, barreling toward them. The vibrations through the floor became palpable.

“Reverse! Quick!” Zhao Qiang barked. Whatever it was, it was big—bigger, surely, than their armored train. If they didn’t act now, everyone aboard was doomed.

His command echoed through the car’s intercom. The tunnel was too narrow for turning around; the drivers had no choice but to throw the train into reverse, retreating along the bloody path they’d carved.

Zou Lin gripped Zhao Qiang’s arm with all her strength, her fingers digging into his flesh. Zhao Qiang and Meng Longwei stared unblinking into the darkness ahead, hearts pounding as the noise drew closer.

“Look!” Meng Longwei pointed forward. The searchlights, aimed behind to guide their retreat, left only the two dim headlights at the front. Through their weak illumination, an unthinkable scene unfolded.

The horde of zombies was being hurled into the air by some unseen force—even Brutes among them. The driver’s mouth hung open in shock. There, in the beam of light, loomed a monstrous, terrifying figure—its massive body filled the entire subway tunnel. The steel and concrete walls crumbled under its force, chunks falling away. At the creature’s front, a circular maw lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth gaped wide. Its appearance was eerily reminiscent of the sandworms from an old real-time strategy game called Dune.

“Reverse! Faster!” Meng Longwei’s cry was almost a roar. No one could witness such a sight and remain composed. Zhao Qiang, too, had never seen a creature like this.

The gunner atop the train was paralyzed with fear, mouth agape, his trousers soaked, a pungent stench filling the cabin.

Seeing this, Zhao Qiang yanked the gunner inside. There was no time for reprimands. “Meng, hit the gas! I’ll hold it off!” he shouted, climbing out through the hatch in the roof and bracing the machine gun before him.

“Zou Lin, you handle the ammo. Quickly!” Without hesitation, Zhao Qiang chambered a round and pressed the firing button. The deafening gunfire was almost drowned out by the sandworm’s cacophony. The 12.7mm bullets howled as they tore into the beast. Its hide was not as tough as expected—the bullets shredded its outer layer and punched into its flesh, bursting forth in bloody sprays.