Chapter 39: The Unpredictability of the Human Heart
S City was only a prefecture-level city. There were no large military districts nearby—just a single brigade stationed at a camp on the outskirts of the northern district. On the night of the Blood Moon, a devastating riot broke out inside the camp, resulting in heavy casualties.
The Blood Moon occurred at night. The soldiers had no way of knowing that the comrades sleeping beside them were quietly dying in their sleep, only to revive afterward as man-eating monsters.
Fortunately, the troops were well trained. They quickly realized that their mutated comrades were no longer human, and after the initial chaos, they eliminated all the zombies.
But no one expected that less than four hours after order was restored, more people began to mutate again.
At the start, many soldiers didn’t understand what was happening. Unwilling to fire on their fellow comrades, they tried to restrain them instead—and were accidentally injured in the process.
Caught completely off guard, more soldiers were wounded by suddenly mutating comrades. In the end, out of a fully organized brigade of over seven thousand men, fewer than two regiments remained. Even the brigade commander was killed, and command had to be temporarily taken over by Regiment Commander Fang of the Eighth Regiment.
Commander Fang hastily reorganized the camp and tried to contact higher authorities to report the situation and request instructions, but for some unknown reason, all communications had been cut off.
Suspecting that this wasn’t happening only inside the camp, he sent out reconnaissance teams to investigate. As expected, the entire city had fallen into chaos—zombies could be seen everywhere, devouring people.
Protecting the people was a soldier’s duty. Without hesitation, Commander Fang issued the order to rescue civilians.
However, the scorching daytime heat made operations extremely difficult. Even though the soldiers’ physiques allowed them to endure the blazing sun, the civilians they were trying to rescue could not. As a result, rescue missions were moved to nighttime. With too few soldiers and too many zombies, progress was slow. After several days, they had only managed to save one or two thousand people.
The camp had stockpiles of food and water, but they couldn’t sustain thousands of people for long. While conducting rescues, they also had to find ways to gather supplies.
Unable to replenish ammunition, the soldiers had to limit their gunfire, further increasing the danger of their missions. Even so, for the sake of the country and the people, they repeatedly charged bravely into the zombie hordes.
As more civilians were rescued, more soldiers were lost. Later, water and power outages occurred. Realizing this couldn’t continue, Commander Fang decided to organize the civilians to join in rescue operations and supply runs.
Unexpectedly, this sparked fierce resistance. Not only did the civilians refuse to participate in rescues, they also rejected the idea of bringing in more survivors. In their view, the military camp was extremely safe—high walls, watchtowers, thick steel gates. As long as they stayed put, they didn’t need to worry about zombies at all. There was no reason to risk going outside.
With instigation from people with ulterior motives, tensions between the two sides continued to escalate. Later, two ability users arrived at the camp—one with fire manipulation, the other with incredible speed.
The appearance of these two ability users caused the already tense situation to take a sharp turn for the worse. Believing they no longer needed the soldiers’ protection, the civilians’ attitudes became even more hostile.
The arrival of the red rain threw the camp into chaos once again. Some people who were accidentally exposed to the rain turned into zombies. To prevent even more disastrous consequences, the soldiers stayed awake day and night, enduring nonstop for twenty-four hours until the rain finally stopped.
What they never expected was that while the soldiers were exhausted, those people seized the camp’s armory and imprisoned all the soldiers who had once saved their lives.
Zhao Bing and his men forced their way out, but all of them were injured. They fled all the way here, and upon seeing the hospital, rushed in.
“Those people! Those people! They don’t even think about who saved them! They actually seized our armory and opened fire on us!” the young soldier grew angrier as he spoke.
“Exactly! They don’t dare fight zombies, but they dare shoot at us!” another soldier couldn’t hold it in either.
“That’s enough!” Zhao Bing frowned and stopped them from continuing. “Find medicine quickly. Figure out a way to treat our brothers’ injuries first!”
“Yes, Platoon Leader.” Once Zhao Bing gave the order, the soldiers obeyed immediately. Though still seething with anger, they quickly dispersed. Those carrying the wounded kicked open two examination rooms and placed the injured on gurneys.
After hearing the soldiers’ account, everyone exchanged looks. In the apocalypse, the human heart was indeed unfathomable.
Zhao Bing leaned irritably against the wall, pulled out a cigarette pack that had been crushed flat, took out the last cigarette, lit it, and took a deep drag.
“Didn’t anyone in your camp awaken abilities?” Zhan Yun walked over and continued questioning.
From what they’d said, those two ability users had come from outside. It seemed the camp itself hadn’t produced any.
Zhao Bing frowned and shook his head. They still didn’t know how these so-called abilities were awakened.
Zhan Yun pondered for a moment, then asked again, “How did you handle those who were scratched or bitten by zombies?”
A trace of pain flashed across Zhao Bing’s face. He closed his eyes and shook his head once more. Clearly, those who were injured had either taken their own lives—or been killed.
Seeing this, Su Ruizhe couldn’t help letting out a heavy sigh. In the early stages of the apocalypse, due to the high infection rate of the zombie virus, almost everyone believed that being scratched or bitten meant certain death. No one knew how many people who might have awakened abilities had died because of this misconception.
Zheng Jiahe and Wu Jing exchanged glances, both feeling shaken. If they hadn’t encountered Su Ruizhe and the others back then, they would probably have died long ago as well.
Noticing the change in their expressions, Zhao Bing’s heart sank sharply. “Could it be… those people could still be saved?”
“Not everyone infected by the virus will turn into a zombie. Some may become ability users instead—it’s just that the probability isn’t very high,” Zhan Yun answered truthfully after careful consideration. Even if he didn’t say it now, they would eventually learn the truth.
Like a bolt from the blue, Zhao Bing was immediately plunged into deep guilt and grief. How many soldiers had chosen to take their own lives after being bitten… those were all living, breathing lives!
“Platoon Leader! Platoon Leader!” An anxious shout suddenly came from inside one of the examination rooms.
Zhao Bing tossed aside the cigarette he’d only smoked halfway and rushed in at once. “What happened?”
“Lao San… he might have been scratched by a zombie!” The wounded man on the gurney had a flushed face and fine beads of sweat covering his forehead. His clothes had been removed. Aside from the wound where his shoulder had been pierced through, there was a vicious-looking gash on his thigh. The wound was slightly darkened. It was crescent-shaped, with relatively sharp edges—it was hard to tell whether it had been a claw wound or a scrape.
Zhao Bing hurriedly turned back to look at Zhan Yun. “He—he…”
Zhan Yun couldn’t be sure whether the wound had truly been caused by a zombie either, so he looked toward Song Chengshu. “Let Old Song take a look. He’s a doctor.”
Song Chengshu nodded to Zhao Bing, then stepped forward and began carefully examining the soldier’s condition.
However, the moment he lifted the soldier’s eyelids, Song Chengshu froze. Seeing this, Zhan Yun hurried a few steps closer as well, and when he clearly saw the soldier’s bloodshot eyes, he couldn’t help but be stunned.
“Doctor, how is Lao San? Say something!” one of the soldiers asked anxiously.
Song Chengshu let out a sigh and shook his head heavily. “He’s infected. He should be about to mutate.”
“B-but didn’t you just say that being infected doesn’t necessarily mean turning into a zombie?!” Zhao Bing demanded sharply.
“There is a certain chance of becoming an ability user, but he’s already fully infected,” Song Chengshu said, pointing at the man’s eyes. “His pupils are dilated, the congestion in his eyeballs is extremely severe, and his heartbeat is slowing. He probably won’t hold on much longer.”
Zhao Bing said nothing more. He simply stared in silence at the comrade lying on the stretcher, his eyes filled with struggle. An eerie quiet settled over the room.
After a while, just as Song Chengshu had said, the wounded man’s breathing grew weaker and weaker, until he finally stopped altogether. Within minutes, his skin shriveled, an obvious sign of severe dehydration—something that occurred with every zombie upon death.
The next moment, the wounded man suddenly opened his eyes. His blood-red gaze, paired with his gray-green, shriveled face, was terrifying to behold.
“Roar…” Just as the zombie snarled and tried to rise, Zhao Bing drew his dagger and drove it viciously into the zombie’s temple, killing it.
In a hoarse voice, Zhao Bing said to Song Chengshu, “Please check on the others as well.”
“Alright.”
Song Chengshu examined the other wounded soldiers. Most of them had gunshot wounds; once the bullets were removed and medication applied, there was no major problem. Two of them had developed fevers, but in his judgment it was simply inflammation. With IV fluids, the fevers should subside.
The soldiers who had gone to look for medicine all ran back, their arms full of various medical supplies they had scavenged from the emergency pharmacy.
Song Chengshu carefully treated each person’s wounds and also put the two feverish soldiers on IV drips.
“Get some good rest. There shouldn’t be any problems.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” the soldiers said, their faces finally relaxing in relief.
“You’re welc—” Song Chengshu had only gotten halfway through the word when he heard a dull thud. Turning around, he saw that Zhao Bing had collapsed to the ground, his face flushed, clearly burning with fever.
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