On Monday, new labor was added to the Youth Apartment complex, and the living conditions for the property management staff improved. Everyone currently had enough food, and order was maintained within the community, giving off a sense of calm.
But this day turned out to be the hardest since the establishment of the City S’s temporary emergency command center.
According to plan, the supply convoy was supposed to break through from the radiation-contaminated roads between the ring roads and reach the Fourth Ring Road today.
In fact, things had gone fairly well while they were on the main thoroughfares, because at that time on Saturday night, there weren’t that many vehicles or people on the main roads. Some zombies were simply sent flying by the armored vehicles, and the heavy supply trucks just rumbled right over them.
The zombies on the main roads were mostly original zombies—slow-moving and uncoordinated—posing little threat to steel machinery.
The supply convoy successfully pushed through to the Fourth Ring Road.
But there was a stadium next to the Fourth Ring Road, and no one had expected there to be a concert there on Saturday night. Those who knew about it were either dead or, after a week had passed, simply couldn’t remember.
That stadium, at full capacity, could hold 60,000 people.
Even if it wasn’t completely full, there were probably around 40,000 to 50,000 people there.
As the supply convoy rolled forward, crushing original zombies along the way, a staggering number of second-generation zombies were drawn by the noise and surged toward them like a tidal wave.
Second-generation zombies were far stronger and faster than the original ones, and during the day, with ample sunlight, their vision was unimpaired.
Most importantly—there were simply too many of them!
No one had ever seen so many second-generation zombies in one place!
The ones encountering this ant-swarm-like horde were the first echelon leading the way.
Because they were at the front clearing the path, the first echelon consisted of ten armored vehicles. The armed personnel on the supply trucks were also double that of the vehicles behind.
But there were just too many second-generation zombies!
While the original zombies were still stumbling along at a shaky run, the second-generation zombies had already descended like a beast tide.
Soldiers opened fire, spraying bullets, but zombies could only be “killed” with a headshot—bullets hitting the body only served to slow them down.
And the sheer number of second-generation zombies was overwhelming.
Drivers roared as they floored the gas pedals, trying to power through, but they became trapped in an ocean of zombies.
The second-generation zombies were leaping! One after another! Leaping in groups!
They grabbed onto the truck railings! Jumped onto the hoods! Caught hold of the side mirrors and windshield wipers!
Soldiers leaning out of windows to fire were violently yanked out through the openings. Two zombies clung to one soldier as all three tumbled into the horde below.
The screams lasted only a few seconds before cutting off abruptly—gone.
Other zombies crawled in through the windows.
The steering wheel was lost! The heavily loaded vehicle veered off the road and crashed into the median strip!
Blood splattered across the windows—red, thick, smeared—making it impossible to see inside anymore.
People in the vehicles behind shouted: “Close the windows! Close the windows!”
The fighters pulled back into the cabs and slammed the windows shut.
But countless second-generation zombies swarmed over the outside of the cabs, their pitch-black eyes fixed on the humans behind the glass, raising their fists.
Punch after punch—the zombies possessed tremendous strength and felt no pain, and each blow landed without pause.
The glass, which ordinary people couldn’t even shatter with a hammer, began to show spiderweb-like cracks.
“The glass is going to break! The glass is going to break!!!”
“AHHHHHHHHH——”
Roars and screams intertwined.
This was what Mayor Zheng heard from the communication equipment in the monitoring hall.
On the monitor wall, screens displayed from every angle how the supply convoy was being swallowed by the zombie tide.
There were too many second-generation zombies. The slow-moving original zombies couldn’t even get a scrap of flesh for themselves.
They couldn’t even squeeze in.
Only four of the ten armored vehicles escaped with their lives.
Although the second-generation zombies were powerful, they couldn’t penetrate the armored vehicles’ hulls.
But too many zombies had crawled underneath the vehicles.
Arms and legs got wedged into the gaps between the tracks. One arm or one leg couldn’t stop the machinery from turning—but what about ten arms and ten legs? Twenty arms and twenty legs?
The zombies felt no pain; as long as their heads were intact, their bodies could still move.
Countless limbs and bones jammed the tracks, preventing the armored vehicles from moving forward.
More zombies surged on top of them.
Viewed from above, it looked like united worker ants hauling enormous prey.
Inside the cabins, personnel suddenly felt the center of gravity shift.
“What’s happening!”
“It’s tipping! It’s tipping!”
With a thunderous crash, the worker ants flipped one prey after another over…
The four vehicles that had luckily broken through wanted to turn back and rescue their comrades, but the commander’s voice came over the comms: “Retreat! Retreat immediately!”
The drivers gritted their teeth and turned the wheel.
Comrades shouted in horror: “They’re opening the hatches!”
The hatches of the overturned armored vehicles swung open, and soldiers burst out, rifles raised, roaring, “Come on, you bastards! Let’s fight to the death!”—and charged out.
The zombies, unafraid of bullets, surged forward and instantly engulfed them.
On the monitors in the temporary command center’s surveillance hall, the soldiers could no longer be seen—only layer upon layer of second-generation zombies swarming over them, fighting for a piece of flesh.
Mayor Zheng closed his eyes in agony: “How did this happen? How did this happen?”
They had already scouted the route using road cameras.
His secretary explained: “When we checked the route, it was still night. It was very quiet, with nothing around to disturb them…”
So the massive horde of zombies hadn’t moved on a large scale. The occasional few aimlessly wandering out hadn’t been many.
It wasn’t until the rumbling convoy startled the zombies inside the stadium.
Mayor Zheng wiped his face: “Survey new feasible routes. The supply convoy will take a detour! Mark the stadium area as a red high-risk zone and issue a city-wide alert!”
Secretary: “Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Mayor! The zombie horde at the stadium is starting to spread!”
Everyone turned to look.
The four armored vehicles that hadn’t been trapped had already retreated at full speed. With no living flesh left on site, the zombies’ movements suddenly slowed down, and they began to wander about aimlessly.
They had no unified direction—tens of thousands of zombies naturally began to disperse slowly in all directions…
The faces of everyone in the monitoring hall turned pale.
But what could they do? Order the residents to evacuate?
If the residents could freely go downstairs, they wouldn’t be trapped in their communities or even in their buildings, unable to come down.
Just as Jiang Cheng and Song Jingshuo had realized yesterday on their way back from scavenging supplies—under a disaster like this, urban residents lacking wilderness survival skills were powerless to flee and had nowhere to run.
The only option was to hold fast!
Defend the community!
Defend the building!
Or at the very least, defend their own front doors and keep the zombies from breaking in!
A suffocating atmosphere spread throughout the hall.
On the screens, the soldiers’ remains were being devoured beyond recognition, just like those second-generation zombies.
The people in the hall knew that after some time, these seemingly “dead” bodies would mutate.
It wasn’t just the living who would turn into second-generation zombies after being wounded. Some “corpses” that appeared to have “died” from zombie attacks—as long as their heads weren’t shattered and their necks weren’t severed—would also mutate after a period of time.
Original zombies had mutated from healthy individuals infected through unknown means, so their bodies still appeared intact.
But many second-generation zombies only mutated after being attacked and entering a state of apparent death, which was why they were so disfigured, bloody, and mangled.
The visual effect was eerie, grotesque, and nauseating, placing even greater psychological strain on everyone.
The monitoring hall was silent and oppressive, while the technical staff from the transportation department were tense, their nerves stretched thin as they planned new detour routes.
“Bigger—make it bigger,” one staff member whispered to another.
This staff member was adjusting the red zone on the map, marking the stadium area as a high-risk red zone.
But her colleague reminded her to make the red zone even larger. Because the zombie horde emerging from the stadium was slowly spreading outward. The surrounding neighborhoods would soon be in trouble.
This area would now be bypassed by the supply convoy, meaning residents in the nearby blocks would no longer be able to receive relief supplies.
And on top of that, countless zombies were slowly advancing toward their homes.
The staff member working on the map held back her tears and expanded the red zone even further.
At this moment, it was only 7:39 on Monday morning.
Jiang Cheng and Song Jingshuo were jogging in the community courtyard.
Mo Li had found a sunny spot to bask in and absorb energy.
Li Jiangbing hadn’t gotten up yet.
Su Yu and He Tian had agreed to walk their dogs together.
Those who could wake up early were all practicing running. Because everyone knew that second-generation zombies were fast—if you couldn’t fight them off, you’d better be able to outrun them.
You didn’t need to outrun the second-generation zombies; you just needed to outrun other living people.
At this time, Guo Jun and his group, the ones who had bought up supplies, were still dawdling and hesitating in their dormitory: “So what do we do?”
“Go seek shelter at Youth Apartments?”
“Yeah, they’re the most reliable. If they’d take us in, we’d be set.”
“But would they even accept us?”
Over at Jixiang Jiayuan, many elderly folks were also up early, strolling over to Jixiang West Street.
They couldn’t get into Youth Apartments—the place was strictly managed, with its gates usually kept shut. To enter, you needed a legitimate reason and had to undergo a physical check.
But that didn’t stop the old folks from gripping the iron railings and peering inside: “Oh my, so many people running.”
A community packed with young, able-bodied fighters—they could even grab more supplies than anyone else. It was the envy of all.
For the rest of the day, things remained relatively calm for the residents of these two communities that had managed to build their own “green zones” through sheer effort.
Youth Apartments had taken in new labor, the property staff’s living conditions had improved, and there was even a hint of festive cheer.
Master Luo and his wife moved into their new quarters and tried on the original owner’s clothes.
After Aunt Pan complimented Master Luo on looking “stylish,” she glanced at the time: “Time to watch the news.”
Now, everyone made sure to watch the news on schedule.
[A 3-kilometer radius around Rainbow Stadium is now designated as a red high-risk zone. Approaching is strictly prohibited. I repeat—strictly prohibited.]
[Other drop-off points along the Fourth Ring Road have been successfully supplied.]
[Supplies have reached the residents.]
Footage of “residents picking up supplies” was shown, but each clip was shorter than yesterday’s Fifth Ring Road footage—Jiang Cheng noticed it immediately.
Soon after, Song Jingshuo called her.
Song Jingshuo sat on his sofa, waiting for the call to connect.
He’d gotten into the habit of calling Jiang Cheng whenever something came up—talking things through with her gave him a sense of “having his feet on solid ground.”
The call connected. No pleasantries or greetings needed. Song Jingshuo said: “You noticed, right?”
Jiang Cheng had certainly noticed: “It must have been a complete free-for-all.”
Every clip was cut extremely short precisely because the next second would probably have shown a brawl breaking out. That wouldn’t align with the current guiding principles of the temporary emergency command center—it would only further destabilize people’s morale and corrupt public order. So they couldn’t air it; all of it was edited out, showing only the first few seconds when the frontrunners grabbed the supplies before the fighting started.
“There’s no helping it.” Jiang Cheng sighed. “The population density along the Fourth Ring Road is way higher than around here.”
Song Jingshuo couldn’t even muster a sigh: “My apartment is on the Fourth Ring.”
A spacious 180-square-meter three-bedroom, just for him alone. Next to it was an urban forest park, and through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the view stretched out unobstructed—it was a prime view property.
A snicker came through the phone from Jiang Cheng. She opened her mouth to say something, got out just one syllable—and then the call suddenly dropped.
Song Jingshuo: “?”
He dialed again—
[The number you have dialed is out of service.]
Leave a Reply