Chapter Seventeen: Hunting in the City of Death

As dusk fell, the convoy finally crossed the windswept wasteland and arrived at a dead city that lay along their route.

This city had long been abandoned. During the outbreak of the undead, it had swiftly fallen into hell on earth. Once a thriving second-tier city, it likely collapsed in its entirety within a week under the onslaught of the undead hordes. As time passed and the world changed, many in the convoy had even forgotten the city's original name, recalling only fragmented memories of it.

The skyscrapers still stood, their surfaces cloaked in moss and vegetation. From a distance, what was once derided as a jungle of steel now appeared as a rare green oasis amid the wasteland. Compared to the desertification beyond, these derelict cities harbored pockets of lush growth.

It seemed as if it had just rained here. The sand and dust on the buildings bore traces of being washed away, while vines flourished with vitality. All sorts of insects swarmed the area.

"If people lived here during the daytime heat, wouldn't it be so much better?" Zheng Nanfang, unfamiliar with the city after so long, compared it in his mind to the towns they'd passed in the lower districts. At first glance, the city seemed preferable to the wilds.

Tang Suan only smiled without answering. Their Deep Blue Sanatorium was a relic of urban civilization and had indeed provided them with many conveniences. But there was a vast difference between reviving a sanatorium and rebuilding an entire city. A few dozen people could restore a sanatorium to its former state, but resurrecting a city would require far more than mere manpower.

Zheng Nanfang slowed the vehicle, his gaze sweeping over houses shrouded in vines. Through the gaps in the plants, he could just make out traces of civilization. Many faded inscriptions were still legible; from the thick layers of decaying leaves and debris on the ground, the tops of garbage bins or other objects occasionally peeked through. Now and then, fat, hulking rats brazenly crossed the street in groups of three or five, gnawing on long-bleached corpses. The sound of bones crunching sent chills down their spines.

"Have these rats mutated? They can bite through bone?" Shaman muttered.

Zheng Nanfang frowned thoughtfully. "They're probably the remains of undead. The muscle fibers have rotted, and the bones have lost much of their calcium. After several cycles of winter hibernation and spring awakening, they're about as tough as mud."

The four women in the car were momentarily stunned. They'd all seen the undead, had survived those hard years, but some of the details Zheng Nanfang described were entirely new to them.

Tang Suan, curious, asked, "You know a lot about the undead? Weren't you just a child back then?"

"Yes. My mother told me." Zheng Nanfang nodded, then abruptly pointed to a rooftop ahead, his tone puzzled. "What's that?"

The others followed his gaze. On the roof of a low building, a shadow flashed by—quick as an animal, but the silhouette was unmistakably human.

"Trouble," Tang Suan realized, abruptly hitting the brakes. "There are patrollers here."

"What are those?" Zheng Nanfang had never heard the term before, and a sense of unease crept in.

Tang Suan didn't waste time explaining, instead telling Li Qingjiao and Shu Yangcong, "Go warn the Hoarse Manor and Sister Hong—danger ahead!"

Li Qingjiao and Shu Yangcong, faces grave, leapt from the car and ran ahead and behind. Before Zheng Nanfang could react, he turned to check on the Hoarse Manor truck behind. In that instant, he saw a shadow appear on the rooftop opposite, hurling something toward Li Qingjiao.

"Watch out!" Zheng Nanfang shouted, but it was too late. Li Qingjiao, just reaching the truck, froze as a spear struck her square in the head, nailing her to the roadside.

Zheng Nanfang's skin crawled. He barked at Shu Yangcong to take cover and laid on the horn in a frenzy. The silent dead city exploded with noise: figures appeared on rooftops and behind vine-draped windows, shrieking as they hurled all manner of projectiles and weapons at the convoy.

Both the Deep Blue Sanatorium and Hoarse Manor responded quickly, aware of the danger at Zheng Nanfang's first shout. But clearly, neither group had much experience with this sort of ambush. The marksmen from the sanatorium leapt out and opened fire, but met with disaster—before they could even target their assailants, they were struck down by stones, ropes, and javelins, meeting the same end as Li Qingjiao.

The man in the hazmat suit who had blocked the road the night before was pierced with javelins and arrows, his chest and back bristling like a porcupine. Even as he died, he squeezed the trigger in defiance, the machine gun spitting fire as he fell, bullets spraying toward the Viper's windows.

Zheng Nanfang shouted for everyone to get down, yanked the steering wheel, and floored the accelerator, hurtling the car toward the roadside.

With a tremendous crash, the Viper rammed through a door and wall, coming to rest inside a store thick with the stench of rot.

"Help me out," Zheng Nanfang said, pulling an oilcloth bag from under the seat and tossing the Uzi submachine gun to Tang Suan and Shaman. He rolled from the car, took cover by a broken wall, and fired a burst toward the opposite window.

Gunfire rattled, glass shattered, and several shadows dropped inside the building. Dust billowed from falling bricks and tiles, buying the embattled sanatorium marksmen a brief respite.

After the initial disadvantage, both sides scattered into the storefronts lining the street, seeking cover and launching their counterattack.

In contrast, the Hoarse Manor group acted far more cunningly. Seeing the carnage inflicted on Li Qingjiao and the sanatorium shooters, they stayed inside their truck, offering no help. Yu Xiuzhu realized the attackers wielded only primitive weapons, and their armored truck could withstand it. There was no need to risk their lives outside.

Watching the sanatorium marksmen run for cover, Yu Xiuzhu allowed himself a measured smile—but it didn't last.

Attackers on the rooftop began lobbing bags filled with oily substances at the truck, quickly covering it. Then they lit torches and hurled them down. With a thunderous boom, the massive truck was engulfed in flames.

"Boss, we need to run! There are too many of them!" Tang Suan pulled at Zheng Nanfang, who was ready to dash out. "It's too late—we're too few!"

Zheng Nanfang gritted his teeth, pulled free, and shouted, "You two, hide!" Then, grabbing a door for a shield, he sprinted toward the lead car, the Red Bird, firing blindly and shouting for Hong Xiangcai and Hu Bi.

In the chaos, Zheng Nanfang heard his name being called. Following the sound, he saw that Shu Yangcong had managed to hide in a ruined shop opposite, where Hong Xiangcai and her group were setting up a fierce counterattack.

Hong Xiangcai, wild as ever, poured out gunfire and laughed maniacally, as if something other than blood ran in her veins.

Seeing Shu Yangcong unharmed, Zheng Nanfang breathed a sigh of relief. Looking back at the burning truck, he saw its occupants finally forced out, shrieking as they tumbled into the open, only to be pummeled by stones and spears.

When the attackers saw the survivors forced out of their vehicles, they howled and leapt from the rooftops, crazed and frenzied, engaging in brutal hand-to-hand combat.

Zheng Nanfang was nearly overpowered by one such attacker but was saved by Shu Yangcong's quick shot, which felled the assailant.

Rolling to his feet, Zheng Nanfang drew his steel saw-blade and finished off the enemy, then crouched low and slipped past the Red Bird, catching sight of a farcical scene in the Hoarse Manor truck's cab.

The group who had stayed inside, thinking themselves safe, were now trapped as the attackers smoked them out. The marksmen in the back fled, while the two in the cab prepared to escape. Suddenly, a grappling hook shattered the window. An attacker, swinging down, grabbed Yu Xiuzhu by the collar. Struggling with his seatbelt, Yu Xiuzhu couldn't draw his gun and was beaten to a pulp with a stone.

The boy in the passenger seat, seeing the danger, fumbled for the door but was grabbed by Yu Xiuzhu, who begged for help. The boy couldn't break free, and in his panic, raised his massive revolver and fired—blowing Yu Xiuzhu's head apart.

Zheng Nanfang had no time to wonder if the boy would survive. The Hoarse Manor marksmen put up a fierce fight, mowing down many of the attackers before retreating into cover. Shouts and running footsteps echoed from above, the whole building trembling with the chaos—there was no telling how many people lurked here.

"What are these things?" Zheng Nanfang wiped blood from his face and glanced at the remaining sanatorium marksmen. In less than three minutes, their fighting force had been halved, and even those who'd made it to cover were all wounded.

Hong Xiangcai spat, reloaded her submachine gun, and cursed, "Dead city patrollers. Damn, I can't believe they're real."

"What does that mean?" Zheng Nanfang felt the term sounded bizarre.

"Nomads of the wild," Shu Yangcong explained hastily. "I'd only heard the stories—survivors unable to live in the upper city, unwilling to move to the lower, banding together in dead cities and the wilderness, hunting other humans for survival."

"This is insane," Zheng Nanfang muttered, dumbfounded. "Instead of living among people, they choose to be savages. Look at their numbers—there must be a hundred of them. They could found a whole town of their own, yet they hide in dead cities as hunters."

"No time to explain," said Hong Xiangcai, deadly serious but with a glint of excitement in her eye. Reloading, she tossed a syringe to Hu Bi. "No matter what, I'm heading for the fishery. We're so close now. From here on, it's every man for himself. Good luck." With that, she leapt from cover, shot down several attackers, and strolled to her Red Bird, firing up the battered vehicle.

Gunfire and chaos raged outside, but inside, Hong Xiangcai was utterly calm. Although the Red Bird was battered and scorched, its engine still roared defiantly.

"See you at the fishery," she called, winking at the others. One hand out the window, she fired as she floored the accelerator, and the Red Bird, spewing fire from its muzzle, tore down the road toward the horizon.