Xiang An's head throbbed, a low growl echoing in his ears.
Pale daylight seeped through the dust-covered car window, illuminating his furrowed brow. The screen's burning blue-green light spots lingered on his retina for a moment before dissipating.
“What exactly happened just now…?”
He rubbed his temples and pushed himself up from a side-lying position, his waist marked with deep red indentations from the gear stick and handbrake. His mind was still in the night, but the daylight reflected in the windshield indicated it was already morning.
Xiang An bent down to pick up his phone, which had fallen under the seat, his expression still dazed—BANG!
A grotesque face covered in congealed blood scabs suddenly pressed against the side window, its mouth torn into an ergonomically impossible arc up to its ears. Half a second later, it slammed its forehead against the glass.
As the car vibrated, his heartbeat seemed to be clutched by an invisible hand.
Zombies!
Instinct drove him to curl away in the opposite direction, but he was startled to find zombies wandering outside all four car windows.
Xiang An tremblingly unlocked his phone screen; the network had stopped working at some point.
The push notifications were frozen at 10:23 PM last night, all ordinary domestic and international news and entertainment gossip, with not a single word related to zombies.
The WeChat work group was silent as a tomb, with only a single column of “Received” hanging below two urgent notices.
It’s over.
Xiang An gripped his phone tightly, a chill spreading down his spine.
Logically, even if this biochemical crisis affected the entire province, there should be a rescue team by now—just like the earthquakes and floods he had experienced in the past. But as far as he could see, there wasn’t even a shadow of a living person.
Perhaps the entire world had fallen.
The emergency calls were all busy signals, which only provoked the zombies to smash the car windows more frantically.
He hung up the call, his nails digging deep into his palm, and thought to himself that the only solution was self-rescue.
Xiang An frantically searched around; the passenger-side glove compartment was empty. Turning around, he saw a silver-white metal toolbox appear out of nowhere on the back seat.
With a click, he flipped open the lid, and a unique metallic stench wafted out: a segmented combination pry bar, a ratchet wrench set, a foldable entrenching tool, hydraulic shears, an angle grinder, a rotary hammer, and zip ties.
“The shovel and pry bar can both be used as weapons…”
Xiang An’s eyes gleamed. With weapons, he could at least kill a few zombies, right?
He grabbed the entrenching tool and scanned his surroundings—seven or eight familiar-looking zombies were wandering below his building, Unit 3. Forcing his way through would be certain death.
He stomped on the accelerator, running over the zombies blocking his path, the tires screeching on the asphalt.
The zombie horde gathered like hyenas smelling blood.
Xiang An slammed on the brakes next to a banyan tree in the flowerbed, using zip ties to secure his phone to a branch.
The moment the alarm blared, the horde turned in unison towards the sound source. He took the opportunity to drive around the flowerbed; in the rearview mirror, Unit 3 was clear.
The minivan skidded to a stop, and Xiang An kicked open the door and leaped out.
The nearest zombies were quite a distance away, enough for him to get upstairs safely.
Xiang An looked up at the building, and the seventh-floor window came into view, making his expression slightly invigorated.
The sudden thought of stocking up last night now fermented into a tangible sense of security in the blood-scented air—as long as he got home, he could survive!
“This location can be set up for defensive fortifications.”
As soon as he stepped into the unit building, Xiang An felt a sudden sharp pain in his temple, and fluorescent text exploded on his retina.
“Double-layer composite protective door”
(Materials: Abandoned security door × 2, car chassis steel frame × 1, rebar × 10)
What the hell?!
Xiang An clutched his head, wondering if he was hallucinating due to shock.
He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, but the words were branded into his nerves, refusing to disappear.
Dragging footsteps sounded from outside the building. Without time to delve into the truth of the hallucination, he turned and rushed towards the stairs. The fluorescent text gradually faded as he climbed, and unexpectedly, there was no sound of pursuit behind him.
Before his breathing could calm, the iron door of Room 402 suddenly swung open. An elderly man with graying temples poked out half his body, his cloudy pupils gleaming the moment he saw Xiang An: “Little Xiang! Come in quickly!”
Yang Zhiping pushed the door open, eagerly beckoning to Xiang An.
With the entrenching tool held horizontally across his chest, Xiang An scanned the room—a overturned soy milk pot lay scattered on the tiles, but the familiar figure with pigtails was missing.
“Where’s Sister Yang, is she…?”
Yang Zhiping ran a breakfast stall downstairs. When Xiang An was in middle school, he often went there, and most of the shop was managed by his daughter.
“What a sin!” the old man’s withered hand clutched the doorframe, his dialect mixed with a trembling voice, “This damned world, living people have become like these ghosts!”
His bloodshot eyes turned to Xiang An: “You team up with me…”
Xiang An took half a step back, the dim light illuminating the old man’s trembling right hand—fresh teeth marks were seeping bluish-black under the skin.
“Are you injured?”
“It’s nothing, nothing!” Yang Zhiping hastily covered it with his sleeve, his expression agitated, “Little Xiang, I’m so scared, let me come with you.”
Xiang An took two steps back, pursed his lips, “Sorry, Uncle Yang… you should go back inside first.”
Yang Zhiping’s finger trembled, pointing at Xiang An’s nose: “What do you mean? Do you think I’ll turn into that kind of monster?”
Xiang An gripped the entrenching tool tightly, remaining silent.
“I watched you grow up, how can you be so heartless?” Yang Zhiping glared at Xiang An, “If I’d known you were an ungrateful wretch, I should have let you starve to death back then!”
With that, Yang Zhiping was still not appeased. He stepped forward, trying to snatch the shovel from Xiang An’s hand, cursing: “Leave the damn shovel, consider it repayment for my kindness.”
Xiang An also felt a surge of anger. Although he was an orphan, his living expenses were sufficient, and he always paid enough for breakfast. What kind of kindness was this?
He swung the entrenching tool in mid-air, forcing Yang Zhiping back.
“You dare to lay hands on me?” Yang Zhiping was even more enraged, “I gave you face!”
Xiang An retreated, watching Yang Zhiping’s face flush red as blood rushed to it. In an instant, the old man’s entire body’s blood vessels bulged and twisted like a cluster of earthworms.
The mutation was even faster than expected!
Xiang An stumbled back, but the zombie slammed into him fiercely.
“Wake up!”
Xiang An swung the shovel to block, striking the zombie’s face, but it had little effect; the opponent merely shook its head and lunged again. Cold sweat soaked his back, and he turned and sprinted upstairs.
The old stairs saved his life. By the time the zombie reached the landing at the corner, Xiang An had already gained the height advantage. The moment the shovel blade sliced through its carotid artery, black blood splattered on the peeling plaster wall.
A follow-up kick to the chest sent the zombie tumbling down the stairs, the sound of bones breaking clearly audible.
Xiang An didn’t look back, rushing to the corner on the seventh floor.
He should be safe now.
He glanced sideways; there was movement downstairs, but no sign of the zombies yet.
As long as he got home, the sturdy door would be enough to keep the zombies out.
He pulled out his keys from his pocket and inserted them into the lock of Room 701. Just as he turned it a few degrees, it suddenly stopped.
He twisted the key twice more, unwilling to give up, staring at the faint light seeping through the door crack—the door was deadbolted from the inside.