035 Stars and Stripes

The two were so close that the female zombie, acting purely on instinct, naturally avoided anything that wasn’t flesh. In the deafening roar, half of her face, along with her ear, vanished instantly, exposing gleaming white teeth and the jagged edge of her jaw. Any normal person would have fainted from the agony, but zombies have no concept of unconsciousness. She didn’t even retreat a step. As Lin Qi prepared to fire a second shot, she lunged at him, jaws wide, and bit down!

A wail of pain filled the entire room. Ten years ago, Lin Qi might have remained calm enough to fire again, but now? After years behind a desk, terror and agony combined to overwhelm him; he forgot all about aiming at the female zombie. He dropped the pistol, seized her shoulders with both hands, and tried to push her away. Unfortunately, bulk does not equal strength, and Lin Qi couldn’t budge the zombie, who clung to his belly, biting incessantly!

It was his two subordinates who responded in the nick of time. The one who had fired the gun stepped forward, pressed the muzzle against the female zombie’s temple, and pulled the trigger again. This time, not only did her eye and brains burst from the socket, but the shot finished her off for good.

The other subordinate reached out with his left hand, grabbed the zombie’s collar, and flung her aside. With his right, he drew a combat knife without hesitation and drove it into Lin Qi’s belly, preparing to carve away the section the zombie had bitten open. Fortunately, Lin Qi’s obesity saved him: the bite had only torn through skin and the thick layer of fat beneath, not into muscle or organs. When the knife sliced out a chunk of blubber, the wound bled surprisingly little, though the pain was undiminished. Lin Qi knew his life hung in the balance; face pale and teeth gritted, he endured it all, a string of curses spilling from his lips.

He stayed still, but someone else moved.

Just as one subordinate was about to remove the last of Lin Qi’s bitten flesh, a sudden, sharp pain struck his neck and shoulder. His aim faltered, and the long combat knife ended up skewered sideways into Lin Qi’s belly! The CIA agent beside him had already holstered his gun and was rummaging for first aid supplies, preparing to help Lin Qi, but he noticed something wrong out of the corner of his eye. Turning slightly, he saw a gaping mouth clamped onto his colleague’s neck—and a Colt Python pressed right between his own eyes.

The very Colt Python Lin Qi had just dropped!

Yes, after the woman turned into a zombie, everyone’s attention had been fixed on her. The three CIA agents had completely forgotten about Wang Chen, who was convulsing on the ground, frothing at the mouth, clearly on his last breaths.

The gun fired.

This time, the agent who had just blown out someone else’s brains met the same fate, his own head blooming in a shower of blood and tissue.

Spitting out a blood vessel—vein or artery, it was hard to tell—Wang Chen’s fevered mind was nowhere near calm, despite the fresh blood and the pink splatter on the walls. Fortunately, he retained some awareness. He raised the gun and sent the bitten CIA agent on his way, then ignored Lin Qi, who lay on the ground, the combat knife still protruding from his belly, struggling to breathe. Wang Chen kicked Lin Qi twice in the knees, confirming by the unnatural angle of the joints that Lin Qi wouldn’t be moving anywhere. Ignoring Lin Qi’s pained howls, Wang Chen grabbed a crowbar from the torture kit and hurried to the iron cages, swiftly prying open all four.

Zhang Fu, his legs badly injured and missing his left hand, was dragged from the cage by Ma Tian. He wore his usual calm expression, though his voice was strained as he said, “Lin Qi can’t die. He’s our only hostage. If we hold out until the research ship sends help, we’ll survive. Ma Tian, search Lin Qi and the corpses—make sure there are no backup guns or knives. Zhou Feng, broadcast to the outside.”

“Understood.” Zhou Feng nodded, hurried to the window, and shouted in English, “We have Lin Qi! If you don’t want him dead, bring us a satellite phone now! Now! And everyone, back away from the building at least fifty meters—stay out of our sight, or we’ll take Lin Qi down with us!”

Footsteps quickly retreated outside as the CIA agents pulled back from their encirclement.

Glancing at Wang Chen, who stood by Lin Qi with a pistol but didn’t come closer, Zhang Fu motioned. “I can barely talk. Why are you standing so far away? Come here. If you were going to infect us by breathing, we’d all be dead after four hours in the same cabin.”

Zhou Feng’s words rang in Lin Qi’s ears, making him forget the agony for a moment. He stared wide-eyed at Wang Chen. Who could have guessed that this young Chinese man was a virus carrier?

A virus carrier who hadn’t turned into a zombie!

Remembering some earlier intel, Lin Qi managed, “You… you’re from Harbin, aren’t you?”

“I might as well be from Hell!” Wang Chen muttered incoherently, clearly affected by drugs, but aware enough of his own danger to toss his pistol to Ma Tian, who was searching the corpses. “I thought I wouldn’t make it, so I scraped mud off my pant leg and ate it… now I feel awful… I’d better not come over, in case I lose control…”

Mud? Ma Tian wasn’t in much better shape; the anesthesia hadn’t fully worn off, leaving his mind sluggish. It took him a moment to understand, then he cursed and gave Wang Chen a thumbs-up.

Even though Wang Chen was clueless about the military, this reckless courage—treating his own life as nothing—earned Ma Tian’s respect.

“Save the thumbs-up!” Zhou Feng grabbed Wang Chen’s arm and quickly led him to a water barrel in the corner. He sniffed the seawater, filled a plastic basin, and said, “Open your mouth! Time to wash out your stomach!”

Wang Chen obediently opened his mouth, and Zhou Feng forced down a basin of briny seawater. After drinking more than half, Wang Chen gestured he’d had enough—but Zhou Feng, unceremonious, punched him hard in the stomach.

Wang Chen doubled over, retching the bile from his gut.

Zhou Feng insisted he wash out his stomach at least twice more. Meanwhile, Zhang Fu told Fang Qiang, “Take the tools from that box, go to the side near the woods, and find a way to make a hole big enough for a person to crawl through. Understand?”

“Understood.” Fang Qiang knew he wasn’t needed at the front door and had no trouble with digging through the back wall. He rummaged through the toolbox, took out a bone saw but found it unfit for digging, then grabbed a chisel and hammer, testing their weight. They were light, but better than nothing. He hurried to the back wall to start work.

“Satellite phone! If I don’t see one in sixty seconds, Lin Qi loses a chunk of flesh! FUCK!” Zhou Feng, having finished with Wang Chen, continued shouting and cursing to the outside while shoving the CIA agent’s corpse out through the door crack.

“Don’t do anything rash! Don’t! We’re preparing a drone to deliver the phone now!”

“Screw your drone! Don’t stall! Send someone to throw the sat phone over now! At least two spare batteries! I mean now! Or Lin Qi’s dead!”

“Alright, alright.” The CIA agent, seeing delay was pointless and his boss’s life hung in the balance, cursed under his breath, notified the destroyer to turn back for emergency pickup, then grabbed a sat phone pack and jogged over to toss it near the door.

Zhou Feng was about to use a corpse as a shield to retrieve it, but Ma Tian beat him to it, dragging the other CIA agent’s bleeding body to the doorstep, inching forward until he could reach the phone. He stayed low, covering himself with the corpse as he crawled back.

Taking the phone pack from Ma Tian, Zhou Feng immediately used the sat phone’s built-in GPS to locate the island, then made the first and only call to the research ship.

“It’s Xiaohua!” At the sound of Zhou Feng’s voice, Yang Xiaohua nearly wept. All thirteen special agents had lost contact for over four hours, and satellite images showed them under attack by unknown armed forces, casualties heavy. Superiors were furious, the whole operation thrown into chaos.

It had been a simple, discreet grave-digging assignment—how had it come to this? Yang Xiaohua didn’t know the South American field chief and the overall mission commander—a minister-level official—had already been cursed out by central authorities, told they’d lose their jobs if a solution and real results weren’t produced within 24 hours! True, the attack on the oil tanker that killed four wasn’t his fault, but letting the crippled survivors get ambushed ashore was a failure of intelligence! Worse yet, among the captives was the son of a paramilitary division commander—a rare and sensitive political liability.

But now wasn’t the time for sentiment. Zhou Feng gave a quick summary of their situation, but couldn’t discuss escape plans over the phone. Switching to Wenzhou dialect, he cryptically said, “We’re heading for the mountains,” and hung up.

As soon as Yang Xiaohua went offline, the CIA line called in. A deep voice said, “Listen, if a CIA agent is captured, they’re presumed dead, so you…”

Zhou Feng glanced at Zhang Fu, who nodded. The veteran agent understood, grabbed the Colt Python, and shot off half of Lin Qi’s foot, letting his screams echo through the phone before hanging up.

Soon after, the sat phone rang again. Zhou Feng waited a moment before answering on speaker. “Number three, even number two at the CIA’s East Asia division—could he be an ordinary agent?”

The deep voice was silent for a couple beats, then replied, “We’ll send a helicopter as soon as possible. We hope you’ll let the boss jump into the sea once you’re airborne.”

“No, we’ll take him to the research ship and give him a lifeboat.”

“…Alright.”

Zhou Feng saw Zhang Fu signal OK; it was the best deal they could hope for at the moment. He was about to finalize the details when, through the haze of pain from his maimed foot, Lin Qi suddenly shouted, “…Stripes Forever!”