Damn it! I hung up!
3148 stared at the satellite remote sensing signal on the large screen as it switched to an epidemic range map. For a moment, she was stunned; then her face paled uncontrollably, her hands and feet trembling. She immediately began to retrieve the real-time satellite imagery, only to find her access rights were insufficient. Something in her chest seemed about to burst forth.
“Why cut the satellite signal? Why! Is it because the operator’s clearance isn’t high enough to view the combat footage? Is it?!”
Her shout echoed through the rescue center; 3148 had never heard her own voice so loud.
“Watch your words, Comrade 3148!” The team leader immediately reprimanded. “Cutting the signal is a necessary procedure. You are not authorized to know the specifics.”
3794, beside her, whispered, “Are you crazy? Sit down, now!”
Necessary procedure, not authorized—those words confirmed 3148’s suspicion. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
“What are you doing? Stop immediately! 3148, I order you!” The team leader, wary after the outburst, saw her abnormal actions and guessed she was trying to alert the survivors at the sanatorium, quickly striding forward.
Just as the satellite phone was about to connect, a flash of white light danced across 3148’s screen, then the screen went black. Before she could get up, the team leader, having yanked out the cord, threw herself at 3148, pinning her to the console.
“Security! Security! 3148 is defying orders, attempting to leak classified information! Arrest her, now!”
“I’m not wrong! Not wrong! It’s human lives! Four—no, five lives!”
“Security! Hurry!”
“I beg you! Please! Notify them, it’s human lives! Please, let them withdraw! Withdraw—”
Under the violent current of a stun gun, 3148 could utter no more. She collapsed to the floor; had her friend not quickly blocked her fall, she might have split her head open. Even so, under the strong current, her body convulsed uncontrollably, a sudden dampness spreading between her legs, the pungent odor of urine wafting around the console.
Like a dead dog, 3148 was dragged from the rescue center by two security officers, leaving a long ‘trail’ behind.
3794 watched her friend being dragged away, a nameless rage boiling inside. She tore off her headset and slammed it onto the console, standing up and declaring, “To hell with it—I quit!”
The team leader, seeing that suppressing one trouble raised another, lips trembling with fury, was about to speak when the center supervisor arrived, shouting at the security officers, “What are you doing? So rough with a woman! Get the stretcher over there, take her to the medical room, quick!” He strode to the team leader, speaking in a low voice, “How did this get so out of hand? Do you want to keep this position?”
Watching her subordinate being carried away, seeing the angry or disgusted looks from others, the team leader finally realized her reaction had been excessive. Pulling the plug would have sufficed—3148 was just a frail woman, hardly a threat. The security shouldn’t have used force. She instinctively swallowed, standing at attention, “She suddenly went crazy…”
“Crazy? I think you’re the crazy one! Who authorized you to order the use of a stun gun on your own colleague? What right do you have to give such orders? Was there an emergency just now? Did anyone become infected or attack others? 3148 violated your orders, so revoking her operational privileges was enough! You!” The supervisor’s brows nearly fused, his gaze sweeping the tense room. Seeing the cleaning staff wiping up 3148’s ‘trail,’ he muttered, “So what if she shouted a little? Are lives so worthless? Just haul her out after she’s done, write her up if necessary! Why use a stun gun? Stupidity!”
From the team leader’s perspective, she wasn’t much older herself, working long hours in the tense rescue center. When unexpected events happened, losing composure was human. Now, as she cooled down and realized the supervisor was still angry, she simply fell silent.
After all, it was her subordinate who had caused the trouble. In bureaucracies, the rule was always to hide things from superiors but not from subordinates. The supervisor didn’t want to take the blame, wagging his finger at the team leader before turning away, taking a deep breath, and clapping his hands, trying to sound cheerful, “Alright, forty minutes till shift change. This shift’s had a lot of emergencies, you’re tired. I’ll arrange an early changeover. Xiao Wei, notify the next team, ten minutes to handover. That’s it.”
3794, seeing the storm subside, felt her rage lose its target. Without a word, she ran straight to the medical room to check on her companion. The supervisor and team leader pretended not to notice her departure.
As for the survivors at the sanatorium—
Let fate decide.
The minor disturbance at the rescue center faded away. At that moment, the military district commander had no idea his order had resulted in a young woman being hit by a stun gun, urinating herself on the spot. Even if he knew, and understood she pleaded for the sanatorium survivors, he would not change his mind.
There was no choice. For a place like the sanatorium, a ‘hidden epidemic bomb,’ the commander and the entire leadership had to remain vigilant. When human control failed, deploying ground-to-ground missiles to wipe out the sanatorium and its entire hill was the foremost and necessary option.
A few dead survivors was far better than letting the epidemic spread and kill hundreds or thousands.
Human lives—often, nothing more than numbers.
The survivors at the sanatorium did not know that, in less than ten minutes, two B611 tactical ballistic missiles would rain down upon them.
Why two?
To ensure absolute certainty.
If there was any consolation in this impending journey to death, it was that nearly a ton of high explosives would detonate, sending all survivors instantly into the arms of the Reaper, without any pain.
Time ticked by; the entire sanatorium seemed to sink into an eerie silence. Except for the still-sleeping Han Li, the four able-bodied survivors were busy, blocking the stairs of the annex with tables and chairs to prevent any remaining zombies from coming down. They pried open the tool room next to the restroom, but found nothing useful—only a few janitorial coveralls, which could barely serve as protective suits.
Just as they donned the coveralls, a muffled sound echoed nearby. Soon after, voices came from the office! The words were indistinct, almost unintelligible from the tool room.
The muffled sound might have been a gas tank explosion or something similar, but the voices were unsettling. Hu Chun’s heart clenched; Xu Dongsheng dropped to the floor with a cry, his legs weak with fear. Was Han Li awake? No, the voice was too deep.
Wang Chen, quick-witted, dashed from the tool room, calling out as he went, “Someone’s using a walkie-talkie!”
Yes, a row of walkie-talkies was charging there—someone was calling!
There were other survivors!
As Xu Dongsheng, legs still weak, stumbled into the office, Wang Chen was already speaking into the walkie-talkie, “Security office, there are survivors, survivors! I’m Wang Chen—who are you? Respond!”
“I’m Corporal Hao Weihua, security detail…”
Even just hearing the labored breath, they could tell this soldier was wounded.
“Ask about the guns—” Xu Dongsheng, ignoring the injury, crowded Wang Chen, reminding him.
Wang Chen ignored him, responding, “Where are you? We’ll find you! We’ve contacted rescue! Hang on!”
“Don’t… come. I won’t last… You must escape.”
In the background, faint growls and groans could be heard, indicating zombies had found the soldier.
“Ask about the guns!”
“Don’t lose hope! Where are you now? Rescue will be here any minute!” Wang Chen gripped the walkie-talkie, his other hand pressing the satellite phone’s redial button, desperate to know when rescue would arrive.
“Ask about the guns—”
“Shut up!” Hu Chun grabbed Xu Dongsheng’s neck, barking, “You don’t get to speak here!”
“Don’t look for me. I won’t last long.” Suddenly, the soldier’s words were much clearer, as if from a final burst of strength. “Major Cao is dead. I’m about to detonate my remaining grenades to deal with the zombies. The explosion will attract more—so you’re safest in the office. Guns and ammo are in the two armored vehicles. Whether the doors are open, I don’t know. The SUV parked at the east end is unlocked. The key is tucked behind the sun visor… Good luck. If you can, look after my parents… My name is Hao… Weihua…”
A sharp metallic click was heard—the sound of a grenade pin being pulled.
Suddenly, three windows in the middle of the sanatorium’s main building exploded! Fire and thunder tore through the air. The floor collapsed, leaving a hole large enough for several people to pass through. Even in the annex, far from the blast, they felt the tremors.
“Wow, the zombies are really heading over. Let’s not wait for rescue—let’s run!” Li Changhuai, watching the zombies shuffle toward the blast, urged enthusiastically.
“That… might not be safe. Better to wait for rescue,” Xu Dongsheng protested timidly.
“Strange, the satellite phone isn’t working,” Wang Chen shook his head, listening closely—no feedback, just ‘signal interrupted’ on the screen.
“Impossible!” Xu Dongsheng, panicked at the news, snatched the phone from Wang Chen, “Let me try my number!”
Hu Chun, already annoyed by Xu Dongsheng, stepped forward to teach him a lesson, but Wang Chen intervened, “Something’s off—let him try.”
“Hello?! Rescue center? We’re survivors at the sanatorium! When is rescue… Wait? What do you mean, wait? Hello? Hello? Damn! They hung up! What does this mean?” Xu Dongsheng was bewildered.
“Have we been abandoned?”
“We’re probably about to be wiped out!”
Wang Chen and Hu Chun thought the same, the latter more pessimistic.
“What are we waiting for, then? Run!” Li Changhuai trusted his two partners absolutely. He was already at Han Li’s side, bending to lift her.
Having escaped Harbin, these three weren’t ones to hesitate. While Xu Dongsheng mourned lost hope, the others quickly packed and headed out. Wang Chen, seeing Xu Dongsheng still mumbling in a daze, couldn’t resist kicking him, “If you don’t want to die, hurry up!”
“Oh? Oh! Coming! Coming!”
“Why bring him? He’ll just mess things up,” Hu Chun glanced at Xu Dongsheng, following behind.
Wang Chen adjusted Han Li on his back, smiling awkwardly, “A life’s a life.”
Hu Chun snorted, saying nothing. He knew Wang Chen was sharp and worth befriending, but lacked social experience and didn’t fully grasp the phrase ‘never let down your guard.’ Never mind, he’d just keep an eye on Xu Dongsheng.
The blast had drawn all the zombies in the square to the main building, the fire and strange noises making them flock inside to seek living prey. This gave the group plenty of space to escape. No longer hiding, they dashed from the annex straight toward the SUV!
Wang Chen, carrying Han Li, was slower, but Li Changhuai helped, keeping up with Hu Chun. Xu Dongsheng lagged behind, lost in thought.
Seeing the SUV ahead, Hu Chun quickened his pace, passing the last armored vehicle. In the dim light, he noticed its door was ajar—wait, ajar?
He immediately caught his own thought, stopping short to warn Wang Chen, but the armored vehicle’s door swung open! Two security officers, now zombies, tumbled out, blocking Wang Chen and Li Changhuai! Worse, two more followed—four zombie security officers in total!
Wang Chen, realizing the danger, knelt to set Han Li down, thumbed off the safety, drew his pistol, and shot the nearest zombie!
Ignoring the splattered brains, he fired again at the second zombie!
Li Changhuai, not idle, wielded his military knife—not as handy as a hammer, but sharper—dispatching zombies with ease!
Before Hu Chun could assist, all four zombie security officers were down.
“Damn, scared me half to death,” Li Changhuai glanced at the annex, “Gunfire’s drawn zombies. We need to go.”
No sooner had he spoken than he felt a sudden grip on his calf, followed by sharp pain! Knowing things were dire, he dropped, stabbing downward with his knife, piercing a zombie’s head and pinning it to the ground.
His calf, though not bitten through the pants, was bleeding.
Li Changhuai was stunned.
He might be slow-witted, lacking Wang Chen and Hu Chun’s quick reactions, but anyone facing their own death sentence would not stay calm.
Wang Chen, seeing this, said nothing—he grabbed the knife and hacked twice at Li Changhuai’s calf!
Hu Chun understood—at this point, desperate measures were needed. He quickly hoisted Han Li onto his back, watching Wang Chen cut a chunk of flesh from Li Changhuai’s leg, then tore off the entire pant leg to bind the wound. Despite Wang Chen’s speed, the gunfire had attracted zombies who were now close. Fortunately, the armored vehicle blocked their view, and Li Changhuai bit his tongue in silence, giving the zombies no sound to follow, making them wander aimlessly.
Wang Chen hauled Li Changhuai up. Before he could urge them forward, the six-wheeled, green-camouflaged armored vehicle suddenly roared to life, shaking violently and lunging forward!
What was going on?
As the armored vehicle left, the trio, surrounded by a dozen zombies, realized they’d forgotten about Xu Dongsheng! No one had noticed him sneak into the armored vehicle.
Yes, Xu Dongsheng saw four zombie security officers flee from the vehicle—likely left running. He decided to gamble.
He guessed right!
Now, clumsily operating the armored vehicle, Xu Dongsheng felt smug, “You all looked down on me! Who’d have thought a newbie driver could pull this off? Die, you bastards! See if you can escape—wait for the zombies to tear you apart!”
Too bad he hadn’t had a chance with that woman yet.
To the others, Xu Dongsheng was unreliable, leaving without a word, abandoning them.
True—a comatose woman, a possibly infected companion, and two who clearly looked down on him. Anyone selfish enough would flee alone, especially with weapons and ammo in the armored vehicle. If Xu Dongsheng hadn’t acted like a petty man before, he wouldn’t have earned their scorn. But the trio, while contemptuous, hadn’t abandoned him.
So, the selfish always have their reasons.
The three had no time to curse or complain. As the zombies failed to surround them, they dashed to the SUV. Xu Dongsheng would have to figure out how to open the sanatorium gates.
Hu Chun yanked open the driver’s door, stuffing Han Li into the passenger seat like cargo. She ended up in a bizarre pose, her face pressed against the window, but he didn’t care. Wang Chen, helping Li Changhuai, scrambled into the back seat. As the doors closed, zombies surrounded the SUV from all sides! Moans and screams filled the air, and the familiar, nauseating stench of rot quickly seeped into the cabin.
Inside the car wasn’t much safer, but military SUVs were built tough. Hu Chun found the key behind the sun visor, started the engine, and shifted gears without a word. Wang Chen, from the back seat, strapped the unconscious Han Li in with a seatbelt, then fell back into his seat, busy tending to Li Changhuai, though there was little he could do. Li Changhuai had already secured himself, tearing strips of cloth to bind his mouth.
His plan was simple: if he turned inside the car, with his mouth bound, he’d do the least harm to his friends.
As Hu Chun floored the accelerator, trying to break free from the zombie horde, a deafening crash echoed from the iron gate! Clearly, Xu Dongsheng didn’t know the remote switch, so he relied on the armored vehicle to ram through!
The vehicle was armored, but the gate was not a regular fence—just as Li Changhuai had predicted, the military sanatorium’s gate was sturdy. Even with an armored vehicle, in such limited space, an experienced driver couldn’t build much speed, let alone a newbie like Xu Dongsheng.
So, the relatively slow collision didn’t achieve his goal of breaking out. The gate was badly deformed, nearly toppled, but not quite down—stubbornly holding on.
The armored vehicle suffered little damage, just the engine stalling from the impact, barely dented. Xu Dongsheng only needed to restart, reverse, and maneuver out.
His actions were watched by Hu Chun, who, after calculating the gate’s angle, decided this was their only chance. He expertly spun the military SUV, lined up the angle, and in a burst of speed squeezed between the armored vehicle and the gatepost!
The tilted gate, crushed by the SUV, finally collapsed, paving the way for the armored vehicle.
Anyone witnessing this might think these survivors coordinated perfectly—first the armored vehicle hit the gate, then the SUV cleared the way, flawless teamwork.
Xu Dongsheng didn’t see it that way. Watching the SUV speed off, he nearly exploded with rage—his ‘life-or-death’ escape had only benefited others! How could he accept this? Cursing, face twisted, he restarted the armored vehicle and began to reverse.
He had already decided: once out, armed and armored, he would settle scores with those who scorned him. If he couldn’t kill them, he’d at least put a few holes in them!
As he shifted gears and the armored vehicle rolled forward, crushing zombie flesh, about to leave the sanatorium, a strange white light flashed before his eyes.
The earth shook.