Chapter 36: Chapter 36
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The journey from Jinghu Sanatorium to the Liao City Base required passing through Hong City, a perilous urban expanse that had become a deathtrap for humans. The most direct route would have taken Chen Liu’s group straight through the city, potentially reaching the base in a single day if fortune favored them. But Chen Liu harbored no illusions about such a reckless path. Hong City is a graveyard for the careless, he thought, recalling reports of survivors still trapped within, desperately seeking escape. The risk was unthinkable, so they had chosen a longer, safer detour.
Yet, barely an hour into their journey, trouble emerged. Three abandoned cars, tangled in a collision, blocked the narrow road ahead. Chen Liu grabbed the walkie-talkie and spoke to Zhang Chong in the pickup behind. “Get out and take a look.” Cell signals had grown unreliable in the wild, flickering unpredictably at best, rendering walkie-talkies the only dependable means of communication. Soon, phones will be nothing but scrap, Chen Liu mused, shaking his head at the thought of a world without them. He stepped out of the Wrangler, his senses sharp as he approached the wreckage. No survivors lingered, nor did any undead roam free—only three zombies remained, trapped inside the cars. One was a child, its small form slumped against the window. It was an unfortunate family, caught off guard. Chen Liu pieced together the grim scene: a road trip turned deadly when one turned, the confined space offering no escape. Even an Awakened might have perished in such chaos. In one car, the driver—a middle-aged man—had his head pulverized, likely by a zombie seeking his crystal. The sight was gruesome, but Chen Liu had grown accustomed to such horrors.
Thwack! With a steel rod, he pierced each zombie’s skull with practiced precision, ending their wretched existence. “Search the cars. See if there’s anything worth taking,” he instructed, siphoning gasoline from the wrecks into a fuel can. After a quick sweep, he tied a rope to one car and dragged it to the roadside, clearing the path. The group resumed their journey, but the morning brought five more blockages, each slowing their progress. The military knew what they were doing, prioritizing the roads, Chen Liu thought, grudgingly admiring their foresight. By day’s end, they had covered only a third of the distance, their time consumed by clearing obstacles.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Chen Liu decided to halt for the night. Driving in the dark was a death wish in the apocalypse, where zombies or mutated beasts could lunge from the shadows without warning. In this new world, time was both precious and irrelevant. The old pressures of work, wealth, or status had dissolved; society had reset to a brutal equality where survival was the only currency. The group had made do with biscuits for lunch, but dinner called for something warmer. Zhang Chong volunteered eagerly, “I’ll go gather firewood,” and set off into the nearby trees. Chen Liu took a pot to a narrow river, no wider than five meters. Bottled water’s too scarce to waste on rice, he thought, recalling ancient practices of washing grains in streams. As he rinsed the rice, a school of small fish with unnaturally sharp teeth darted toward the cloudy water. They were unusually bold. Even the fish are changing, he thought, noting their lack of fear. When he waved a hand to shoo them, they didn’t scatter—some even nipped at his fingers. Concerned for Professor Li and the others, he abandoned further observation and started back to camp. But as he stood, his eyes caught a chilling sight: a female corpse floated downstream, her skin deathly pale, unmarred by wounds. She’s dead, but why no zombification? Chen Liu wondered aloud, intrigued yet wary. The corpse drifted out of reach. Curiosity can kill out here, he thought, shaking off the urge to pursue answers.
Back at camp, Zhang Chong returned, his clothes splattered with blood but his grin intact. “You okay?” Chen Liu asked, eyeing the stains. “Ran into a wandering five-star zombie. Took care of it,” Zhang Chong replied nonchalantly. He’s stronger than he lets on, Chen Liu thought, nodding without pressing further. They set up a makeshift frame, and the five settled for a modest dinner of plain congee, enhanced only by thin slices of dried cured meat. As the fire crackled, the group chatted idly. “Captain, why didn’t you catch some fish from the river?” Zhang Chong teased. Yu Dachao, ever the country boy, scoffed, “Are you dumb? That small river barely has fish. One bottle of pesticide would wipe them out.” Chen Liu turned to Professor Li. “I noticed those fish and shrimp are mutating too. Would pesticides still work?” Professor Li paused, his brow furrowing. “If they haven’t developed specific toxin resistance, then yes, in theory. Mutations typically enhance specific traits, not overhaul everything.”
Yu Dachao shrugged. “Mutated or not, a small fish is still a small fish. It’s not turning into a monster. You don’t need pesticides for that.” Professor Li nodded. “The entire food chain is evolving, but the basic hierarchy should hold—big fish eat small fish, small fish eat shrimp.” Chen Liu’s eyes narrowed. “Then the ocean must be the most dangerous place now,” he said, his scalp prickling at the thought of mutated whales, sharks, and dolphins. The seas are a nightmare waiting to happen, he thought. Professor Li’s gaze grew distant. “Reclaiming the oceans will be no small feat,” he said gravely.