Chapter Eight

Three days earlier, at the Changsha Special Police Detachment.

Soldier A stood at his post like a javelin, motionless. Soldier B sat in the duty room, ceaselessly rubbing his hands, stiff from the cold. The courtyard behind them, once lively and noisy, had fallen silent. The others had received orders and rushed to the frontlines of the disaster relief operation, leaving only these two armed police officers to guard the premises.

Watching the gloomy sky outside, Soldier B was filled with anxiety. It was going to snow again. Why hadn’t there been any updates yet? Glancing at the clock on the wall, he saw it was nearly 5 p.m. Usually, even during missions, there was never such a long stretch of silence.

Soldier A, as unmoving as marble, held his rifle firmly, his gaze unwavering. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed several figures approaching. It was common for people to pass by, but today these figures felt off. Gripping his rifle more tightly, Soldier A fixed his gaze on the citizens drawing near. Their movements were awkward and sluggish—seemingly no threat. Suppressing his unease, Soldier A tried to focus on thoughts of his comrade who had collapsed from exposure to intense light at noon and been rushed to the hospital.

The number of figures grew. All of them were staggering closer, wavering with every step. Soldier A began to tense; they looked like ordinary locals, but something was wrong. Ten meters, five meters—they were too close for comfort. Unable to maintain his composure, Soldier A raised his rifle—though it wasn’t loaded—and aimed at the approaching citizens.

“This is a military control zone! Do not come any closer!” Soldier A shouted at the encroaching citizens.

But the citizens, vacant-eyed and expressionless, ignored the warning. Instead, they grew more restless, stretching out their hands toward him.

With a metallic clatter, Soldier A pulled back the bolt. He could no longer stand idle. He lifted his weapon toward them and warned, “Stop right there! One more step and I’ll shoot!” Seeing no sign of them halting, Soldier A fired a warning shot into the air.

Soldier B also noticed the disturbance outside. After securing the gate, he gripped his weapon, ready for anything.

By the time Soldier A realized the danger, it was too late. Several zombies lunged at him without hesitation, biting and tearing at his flesh. His screams echoed through the courtyard, mingling with the sound of his flesh being ripped apart. Soldier B burst from the duty room, unwilling to fire and risk hitting his comrade, so he charged bare-handed into the fray, desperate to pull his friend from the clutches of the crazed mob.

…

The armored cash transport vehicle came to a slow halt at the gates of the Special Police Detachment. The bloodstains on the ground had long been buried beneath the snow, and the zombies, having lost their prey, had wandered off. No one would ever know that two living men had once been torn apart by the undead here.

After scanning the area and finding nothing unusual, Wei Tao jumped down from the vehicle. The yard and its surroundings were eerily quiet—nothing but swirling snowflakes disturbed the silence.

Wei Tao searched the duty room but found nothing. Returning to the armored truck, he signaled for Zhao Qiang to get out.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Qiang asked, glancing warily around as he climbed down.

“There’s no power—this gate won’t open automatically. We’ll have to push it together,” Wei Tao said, eyeing the electric retractable gate.

Ten minutes later, the armored truck finally rolled into the Special Police Detachment’s courtyard, and Zhao Qiang and Wei Tao managed to close the gate behind them.

“Zhang Yongming and the others aren’t here yet, otherwise they’d have helped,” Zhao Qiang muttered, rubbing his hands together. Even with anti-cut gloves, the cold from the metal gate was unbearable.

Li Zihan hopped out of the truck as well, reaching out to catch the falling snowflakes. The snow melted instantly on her palm, leaving only tiny droplets. Such heavy snow was rare in the south; Zhao Qiang, in all his years, had never seen anything like it. But his concern for his wife and their uncertain future left him in no mood to appreciate the scene. He glanced briefly at Li Zihan, who was giddy with excitement at the snow—so childlike.

Seeing Li Zihan off the truck, Wei Tao frowned and said, “Who told you to get out? Get back inside.”

“Why? Aren’t we safe now?” Li Zihan asked, puzzled. “Look, there’s not a single monster around.”

Noticing Wei Tao’s continued vigilance, Zhao Qiang understood. He walked over, brushed the snow from Li Zihan’s shoulder, and said softly, “Be good, get back in the truck.” Without further discussion, he gently ushered her back inside.

“So, Wei, what’s next?” Zhao Qiang asked, closing the truck door and joining Wei Tao.

Wei Tao nodded approvingly at him, then pointed to the Special Police’s main office building. “We need to clear that building. You have to come with me.”

“No problem.” With night falling and the weather worsening, staying outside meant either being eaten by zombies or freezing to death.

Fetching night-vision gear and a powerful flashlight from the back of the truck, Zhao Qiang gave Li Zihan a few last instructions to stay put no matter what, then followed Wei Tao into the office building.

The Changsha Special Police Detachment sat beside the Eastern Second Ring Road, occupying a large compound with office space, dormitories, and training grounds. Their first target was the largest office building. Wei Tao had explained that securing it would guarantee access to weapons, lighting, and even hot showers in the future.

The building was deathly quiet as darkness descended. With the help of night-vision goggles, Wei Tao flicked on Zhao Qiang’s device. The world turned green—fuzzy, but far better than total blackness.

Contrary to expectations, no zombies lurked within, and the two quickly swept the entire building. The basement fuel reserves were plentiful, and with the roar of the generator, the building was soon bathed in light again. The three of them began moving their equipment and supplies from the armored truck into the Special Police storeroom.

Zhao Qiang’s eyes widened at the sight of the enormous arsenal. Dozens of QBZ-95 rifles were lined up on the racks, waiting for their owners. Helmets, riot shields, and crates of ammunition and firearms were stacked high in the corners.

“They left in a hurry, didn’t even take their weapons,” Wei Tao remarked, analyzing the racks.

“What?” Zhao Qiang, still excited, hadn’t quite heard him.

“Look there,” Wei Tao continued, pointing at the racks. “On missions, these are essentials. And over there—the protective gear is untouched.”

Following his gaze, Zhao Qiang began to grasp the gravity of the situation. “You mean they’re probably all…” Seeing Wei Tao’s grim expression, Zhao Qiang fell silent.

Scenes of bloodshed flashed through Zhao Qiang’s mind. No guns, no protection—what hope did the unprepared police have against a horde of mindless zombies? Glancing at the pale-faced Li Zihan and the somber Wei Tao, Zhao Qiang was at a loss for words.

After a long silence, Wei Tao clenched his teeth and opened a massive cabinet. Inside were several bomb disposal robots—Zhao Qiang’s eyes widened again at the sight of such advanced equipment, usually only seen on television. Wei Tao handed him a toolbox, picked up a robot, and strode outside.

“Take the box and follow me,” Wei Tao ordered coldly, leaving no room for argument.

What use was this thing? It wasn’t a combat robot. Could that claw even hold a gun? Zhao Qiang, full of doubts, lugged the heavy toolbox after Wei Tao.

In the open space in front of the office building, Wei Tao set the robot down and opened the box, revealing not tools but the control unit. He adjusted the controls and checked the robot several times, but it remained lifeless.

Frustrated, Wei Tao hurled the control unit to the ground. After all that effort, the robot was still inert—his anger was palpable.

“Take it easy, Wei,” Zhao Qiang said, trying to calm him. “Have you noticed all the radios are dead these days? Maybe that’s the reason?” he offered, sharing his theory.

Wei Tao, struck by the idea, dashed back inside without a word, leaving Zhao Qiang and Li Zihan exchanging confused glances. Soon, Wei Tao reappeared with another device.

“This is a portable radio detector,” he explained, fiddling with the complex controls. “It can detect all sorts of radio signals—even interference.”

After a while, his eyes locked onto the screen, Wei Tao slapped his thigh. “Found it! That’s the frequency. The interference source is… That’s impossible!” Wei Tao exclaimed in disbelief.

“What is it? Where’s the interference coming from?” Zhao Qiang asked urgently.

Wei Tao looked up at the sky and uttered a single word: “The sun.”

Glancing at the murky sky, then back to Wei Tao, Zhao Qiang couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. So what if they’d found the source? Were they supposed to shoot down the sun?