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墨書 Inktalez
In the most dangerous times, humanity often displays an unparalleled will to survive. War raged in the city of Anton, where the military had become the executioners. Their numbers were not large, only a few tens of thousands, and when the mutations began, only a few thousand remained. At that moment, the army was finishing up a training session, exhausted from extra drills imposed by their superiors. This left them without the physical strength or mental focus to respond to the zombie attacks.
The outcome was evident; those who survived were mostly the lucky ones, particularly among the logistics personnel. The main combatants had just endured a grueling cross-country exercise, while elite soldiers faced the brutal selection process for special forces. By the end of it, they were utterly spent, some even losing comrades during the trials.
Joining the nation's elite forces came at a price; survival in the wild could not guarantee that everyone would return alive.
The fortunate ones who entered those special units would undergo even stricter training and receive better treatment. In contrast, those who failed would return to sleep away their exhaustion for a week, a time meant to recuperate from their physical toll and injuries sustained during survival tests. A week of extreme outdoor survival also meant evading more enemy ambushes, making combat exceedingly difficult.
Unfortunately, even these failures could not escape their fate. As mutations spread across the globe, these soldiers lay in bed, their bodies aching and unresponsive, sleeping so deeply that they wouldn’t even know if they had truly died.
Until they transformed into zombies—slow-moving creatures far worse than those elderly zombies. If Zheng Yifan were to see them, he would be astonished to discover that a zombie's strength was determined by their state at the moment of transformation. Thus, if someone had taken stimulants or stronger drugs before becoming a zombie, they would likely be much more formidable.
But Zheng Yifan neither knew nor cared about this; he only recognized that these individuals had gone mad and were hauling out all their weapons.
The Avatar of the Believers wandered slowly through the ruins of the city. The people in the Main City Area had long been decimated by relentless bombardments; densely populated areas resembled a sieve with only remote locations managing to escape destruction.
It wasn't that they didn't want to bomb everything in sight to solve their problems easily; rather, they found it impossible due to insufficient ammunition reserves to cleanse the entire city. Moreover, they needed to ensure they had enough bombs left to deal with any future zombies. Since there were already zombies here and headquarters had been unreachable for quite some time, everyone knew what that meant—they felt like discarded pawns abandoned by fate. Or perhaps order no longer existed in this world.
They were unaware that all satellites had lost contact and signals could not be sent out.
Zheng Yifan walked through the streets of an area that had already been cleared. The main roads were free of zombies; only those trapped in rooms remained. Zheng Yifan had no desire to clear them out himself; it was better left for the troops later on. The Avatar of the Believers saw no need to deal with these zombies—it was too troublesome and a waste of time.
As Zheng Yifan wandered, a sound from a building about ten meters away suddenly caught his attention. He walked over quietly; it was an ordinary residential building, only seven stories tall, likely built over ten years ago. The ground was stained with blood, and exposed bones revealed that this place had also been a zombie disaster zone. However, it seemed that the zombies here had mostly been cleared out, as Zheng Yifan did not hear any sounds of movement.
This was enough to surprise Zheng Yifan. He had never expected to find a place without zombies, especially not in the heart of a zombie-infested area rather than in a military-occupied zone. It was only after he had just cleared the area that he noticed something unusual.
When Zheng Yifan reached the entrance of the building, he found that the door to the unit was tightly locked. The other unit doors in the area were not locked; only this one was secured with metal wire wrapped tightly around it.
It didn’t look very safe, but one must not forget the nature of zombies—they lacked brains and would not pull on doors; they could only push inward. As a result, they would be unable to open the door at all.
The door opened outward, and the main reason for binding it with wire was likely to prevent it from blowing open in the wind.
As for the lock, he had no key, and the lock mechanism inside was broken, rendering it impossible to secure.
Zheng Yifan simply used a knife to cut through the wire and opened the door.
What greeted him was a surprising sight. In front of him were numerous beds arranged as a defensive line—not wooden beds, but more like spring mattresses, though some springs had been removed here and there.
It appeared that the people here still had a strong sense of caution.
He quickly discerned their defensive measures.
The outer door was blocked with wire, while below it, spring mattresses were propped against the first room. Behind them were some household appliances wedged on either side of the mattresses to provide enough force for resistance.
The legs of those spring mattresses had all been folded up; only the mattress surface remained, resembling a metal plate, though most of it consisted of individual springs.
It seemed that only the disassembled spring was left empty; everywhere else was tightly blocked.
What left Zheng Yifan both amused and exasperated was that there were a total of five beds. The result of five layers of spring mattresses was a vertical depth of over half a meter. Zombies had no chance of getting through; they simply could not overcome the barrier created by the springs.
Most importantly, the position of the already disassembled spring was just enough for a long gun to be extended out.
In fact, when Zheng Yifan entered this place, he could already hear the sound of footsteps thumping from upstairs. In just a few seconds, a young man came running down.
He was a man in his twenties, his face freshly washed, dressed in lazy pajamas. His physique could only be described as portly; it was hard to imagine how he managed to take apart the spring mattress.
The man rushed over holding a mop stick, and to Zheng Yifan's surprise, several nails were actually nailed into it upside down.
This must be his method for dealing with zombies.
"Are you alive?" Before Zheng Yifan could speak, the man opposite him seemed somewhat excited, looking at Zheng Yifan and trembling as he spoke. (To be continued...)
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