Chapter Twenty-Five: The Return of the Zombie Horde and the Vanished Camp

Laili’s scalp tingled with shock, and she screamed aloud.

The calamity erupted so suddenly that she was half a beat too slow to react. Startled, she staggered backward, but her feet failed to keep up. She fell flat on her back. In that instant, the walking corpse—its face nearly pressed to hers—seized her arm. As she toppled, the corpse tumbled atop her, snarling as it snapped its jaws toward her face.

For a fleeting moment, she was dumbstruck. Then battle instincts surged back to the fore. Her left hand blocked the corpse’s descending head, while her right, still gripping her pistol, jabbed the barrel straight into the hollow of its eye socket. Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger.

Bang.

The gunshot echoed far and wide through the canyon, reverberating endlessly.

Laili shoved the corpse aside and sat up. She unfastened her water flask, unscrewed the cap, and doused her face, washing away the splattered filth and brain matter from the creature’s skull. Only then did she dare to take a breath.

Damn it, how cursed could this place be? She had just been thinking that even if there were any undead left, they would be nothing more than decayed wood. Yet, as soon as she turned around, fate sent her a fresh, blood-rich walking corpse.

Laili was utterly baffled. During the years of the undead frenzy, she had been too young and her survivor group had kept to the safest fringes, rarely suffering large-scale assaults. By the time she was old enough to fight, the antibody vaccine had already emerged, and the era of the undead was nearly over.

Who could have imagined that, years after the fall of the undead, she would encounter such a fresh and appetizing specimen?

Seated atop an earthen platform, Laili gradually calmed as her emotions settled. She slowly realized that things might not be as simple as they seemed.

At the root of it all, the problem must lie with the black mist.

But now the black mist had vanished. Her teammates were missing, and her surroundings were utterly unfamiliar. She had no idea where to begin unraveling the mystery.

“Laili, oh Laili, you’ve really been reckless this time.” She pressed her hand to her forehead, filled with regret. The wind still howled in her ears, carrying with it the faint, indistinct murmur of a crowd.

“Hm?” Laili jolted upright and listened intently.

It wasn’t an illusion—there was indeed a sound, coming from inside the domed fishery.

A chill ran down her spine. She scrambled off the platform and hurried back the way she had come, trying to make sense of the noises as she ran. Yet the closer she drew to the source, the stranger the sound became.

When she reached the canyon and stood before the suspension bridge once more, her hopes were dashed, replaced by a surge of anxiety.

The bridge was utterly empty—her teammates were not waiting for her as she had imagined. Instead, the din had grown clearer—it was unmistakably the snarling of the undead. And not just one or two; from the sound of it, an entire horde was on the move.

“Of course.” Realization dawned on Laili. Her gunshot must have startled the horde.

She couldn’t fathom how a place that had been empty moments ago could suddenly be swarming with the undead.

No answer was forthcoming. The cacophony of snarls grew ever nearer, and already a few walking corpses had scrambled up the path, appearing at the far end of the bridge.

Laili was armed with some ammunition and weapons, but judging by the tide-like roar of the horde, there was no way her supplies would be enough. Besides, with things so bizarre, who knew what else might be lurking here? If her bullets ran out and another disaster struck, she’d be doomed.

Resolving to withdraw and evade the horde’s advance, Laili whirled and ran.

The moment she bolted, the undead across the bridge spotted their target. With snarls, they lurched and staggered toward her at speed.

A glance back nearly scared her witless. Though their gait was awkward, these undead were unmistakably running! Why on earth could the undead here run?

Her brief hesitation nearly proved fatal. The leading corpse had already crossed the bridge, its eyes fixed on her.

In a panic, Laili fired off quick shots, blowing the heads off two undead as they charged into the canyon. The narrow gorge acted like a natural amplifier, trapping and magnifying the gunshots until they echoed wildly, sending the horde into a greater frenzy. The bridge was now packed with corpses, and there seemed to be an endless stream still climbing the path behind.

“It’s over.”

Laili’s face turned ashen with despair. If the undead took this place, there would be no way back. If the black mist returned at night and the bridge was overrun, what could she do then?

Determined to secure her retreat, she ground to a halt, clenched her jaw, and hardened her resolve. She pulled a glossy black Uzi from her pack, stuffed a stack of magazines into her collar, bit down on a cigarette, and aimed her weapon at the surging horde, firing relentlessly as she advanced against the tide.

The canyon was soon awash with gunfire and the roars of the undead, the narrow passage transformed into a slaughterhouse. Laili wielded her gun with both hands, forging ahead unstoppably. Muzzle flashes spat fire, spent casings littered the ground, and before her, the undead poured in like a flood, their bodies piling up to form a gruesome barricade of flesh and bone.

***

A blazing sun, the domed fishery, the reservoir—blistering heat, utter silence.

The group had organized themselves and, under the leadership of Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi, retraced their steps through the canyon path back to the suspension bridge.

At the very front, Zheng Nanfang and Hu Bi wore expressions of shock and doubt.

To Hu Bi, there was no question: Zheng Nanfang’s unspoken suspicion had come true once again.

The others climbed up in turn. When they saw what lay ahead, each was struck as if by lightning, petrified on the spot.

They had crossed the bridge, descended to the reservoir, lingered briefly, and returned. The entire trip hadn’t lasted more than an hour, with no trouble encountered along the way.

Yet such a routine action had triggered another disaster.

On the far side of the bridge, where they had set up camp, there was nothing.

Before leaving, Hu Bi had assigned most of the gunmen to stay behind—partly to care for Hong Xiangcai, partly so there would be a reserve force if trouble arose at the reservoir.

But the scene before them defied all logic.

The sentries were gone.

The tents, equipment, supplies—gone.

Sweat beaded in Zheng Nanfang’s palms as he frowned, searching desperately for a clue.

Tang Suan and the other two women looked at each other in anxious confusion, at a complete loss.

“Could they have just run off?” Hu Bi’s eyes bulged with rage as he strode across the bridge, but the campsite seemed untouched, as if no one had ever been there. There was no sign of occupation or withdrawal.

The others followed, panic rising as they turned to the seemingly calm Zheng Nanfang for answers.

“Boss, what on earth…”

Even clever Tang Suan was bewildered, her mind a blank, her questions tangled with uncertainty.

“Let’s go have a look outside,” Zheng Nanfang said, though he looked confident, he was as lost as the rest.

He had guessed last night that the black mist was the entrance to the hive, but he had never seen such a hive before.

Zheng Nanfang sensed something had gone awry. His theory by the reservoir had been correct—the hive’s influence persisted. But he could not fathom the form this influence took.

So he decided to investigate outside the fishery. If the hive’s reach covered the whole area, the longer they remained, the greater the risk of further incidents.

Zheng Nanfang meant to go alone and return quickly, but the others refused. Tang Suan and her companions feared for his safety; the gunmen worried for their own, concerned that if Zheng Nanfang left, they too would vanish like the previous sentries.

With no alternative, the group advanced together, forming a line as they made their way out of the canyon.

Midway, Zheng Nanfang recalled something and asked Shaman, “Can you still smell that fragrance?”

Shaman was startled, then sniffed the air, frowning. “No… it’s gone.”

Hu Bi’s eyes darted as he speculated, “Could we have inhaled something hallucinogenic?”

Tang Suan shook her head. “Unlikely. There’s no vegetation in the canyon. Stones don’t have a scent.”

“Well, you never know,” Shu Yangcong chimed in. “Didn’t the boss say the hive could alter the local landscape and biology? I’ve heard of stones that can burn.”

“Hallucination seems unlikely,” Zheng Nanfang mused. “With one or two people, maybe. But all of us, at the same time, with the same perception? I doubt it.”

Though the hallucination theory was dismissed, Zheng Nanfang could not shake his doubts. Only Shaman had noticed the scent, and no one had given it much thought at the time. Now, with disaster striking and the scent vanished, the coincidence was troubling.

***

Before entering the fishery, Zheng Nanfang had felt an inexplicable unease, a bone in his throat he could neither swallow nor spit out. Now that misfortune had struck, the discomfort lingered undiminished. His pause at the reservoir had not been just to watch the fish. While Hu Bi and the others were unaware, he had tried to contact Meng Chang and the rest, but failed.

For Zheng Nanfang, this was a devastating blow, as shocking as anything that had happened at the fishery.

Since developing the empathic link, he had never experienced such total isolation. This was not caused by any suppressant, but was a real, tangible severance: he could not sense Jin Ling, Meng Chang, or Loli. It was as if the connection had been blocked entirely within the hive’s field.

This left Zheng Nanfang deeply unsettled.

The only reason they had survived so many dangers was the timely help from Jin Ling and Meng Chang. Now, robbed of their support, Zheng Nanfang was on his own, forced to rely solely on his own judgment.

Soon they reached the end of the canyon, where blazing sunlight and rolling dust awaited them.

There, Zheng Nanfang’s group encountered the same problem as Laili.

The vehicles they had left outside the fishery were gone.

The fishery was unchanged, the ruins of the abandoned market still there, the rusting carcasses of old vehicles, the traces of human activity and heaps of trash—all present and accounted for.

Only their own convoy had vanished.

Hu Bi grew more distraught, rubbing his beard and muttering, “Damn it, have we been duped? Feels like we’ve walked into some kind of trap. They lured us in, conjured up all this weirdness, then made off with our vehicles and gear while we were out of it.”

The gunmen found this explanation the most plausible and grounded, matching the current situation perfectly.

Tang Suan glanced at Zheng Nanfang, who stood with narrowed eyes, deep in thought.

“Boss, any ideas?” she asked in a low voice.

Zheng Nanfang sighed helplessly. “Let’s wait for nightfall. See if the black mist returns.”

At this, everyone’s spirits plummeted. So their pillar of strength was as much in the dark as they were.

With no other option, the group scattered to rest where they could.

There was nothing else to be done. Nerves were frayed to the breaking point, and with no next step, resting up for the night was as good a plan as any.

Beyond the canyon, without the shelter of the cliffs, the scorching sun and harsh wind were hard to endure.

A heavy air of defeat and confusion settled over the group. The two leaders sat apart on high ground, lost in their thoughts.

Clouds rolled, the sky darkened, some slept, others woke.

As Zheng Nanfang, leaning against the earthen platform, smoked his cigarette, he suddenly stood up and shaded his eyes, peering into the distance.

Below, Tang Suan and the others noticed something was amiss and quickly roused Hu Bi.

Groggy and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Hu Bi asked, “What’s going on?”

“I think the boss has spotted something,” Tang Suan said, pointing to Zheng Nanfang atop the platform.

The gunmen gathered below, tense and whispering among themselves.

“Tang Suan, give me the binoculars!” Zheng Nanfang called out.

Tang Suan fished them from her bag and tossed them up.

Zheng Nanfang flicked away his cigarette, raised the binoculars, and saw—on the winding road—a fiery red sports car racing toward the fishery at breakneck speed.