Chapter 06 - Hold the fort

On the map, Yiqian is just a small dot represented by a hollow single line symbol, located at the junction of Sichuan and Yunnan provinces. However, this does not mean it is unknown. In the archives of the National City Management Center, Yiqian is a small city with a population of over 300,000.

Perhaps due to the fact that he never passed math in school, Zhang Wancheng has never had a clear concept of numbers. A few hundred or thousand can barely have an intuitive concept in his mind. As for tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands, he simply can't imagine what a huge existence that is.

Besides the over 100 people who stay in the air raid shelter, almost all the residents of Yiqian city have died.

Zhang Wancheng cannot guarantee that his guess is completely correct. Maybe, in other corners of the city, there are survivors who, like him, have hidden their luck.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but shiver. His left hand instinctively hugged the assault rifle in his arms, while his right hand reached into his mud-caked pants pocket, fumbling to pull out a crumpled pack of "Honghe" cigarettes.

These were supplies from the military. When they set off, he thought the so-called rescue mission was just a sham and a drill. As a result, Zhang Wancheng brought only two packs. He never expected to be trapped here and, with supplies completely cut off, even smoking became a luxury.

He took a deep drag from the lit cigarette, letting the dense smoke linger in his lungs until his face turned purplish-red from lack of oxygen. Then, reluctantly, he exhaled the nicotine-laden smoke, completely enveloping himself in it.

Despite only enjoying it for a moment, Zhang Wancheng did not relax his vigilance. His eyes were constantly staring at the triangle intersection facing him, and after several days, he had firmly imprinted all the details of the entire neighborhood in his mind. No matter how small, every stone, every mud puddle, or a sudden piece of paper that floated down would catch his attention.

In the center of the intersection was a tilted bicycle with a head resting next to the triangular frame of the bike.

It was Lao Wei's head.

He was Zhang Wancheng's squad leader, a volunteer soldier who enlisted in 2010 and was a very kind person. He was not tall, but when he smiled, he always showed a row of very white teeth.

When the distress call was received, the 705 infantry brigade entered Yiqian at the fastest speed. After entering the city limits, Zhang Wancheng saw the terrifying scenes that could only appear in movies for the first time.

Countless black mutated creatures surged from every intersection. They wielded long, sharp bone blades and chased after the suffering refugees. Every time they swung their blades, they took away a life. Their eyes, which emitted a blood-red glow even during the day, were so frightening and cruel.

The chaotic crowd broke through the military's defense line and the mutated creatures following closely surged into the crowd. Unprepared soldiers were poked through by blades covered in viruses before they even had time to react.

Zhang Wancheng witnessed the leader, with a burly figure, pull out a dagger to protect two girls who were running with pale faces and shouting in anger towards the mutants who were already very close. But the leader was torn into pieces on the spot by the other party.

The girls who were rescued never even looked at the leader. It seemed that being saved by someone with their life was a matter of course.

Old Wei's head was cut off by an attacker who suddenly appeared from behind. As for the body, it was already missing.

Under the guidance of a police officer, Zhang Wancheng and several soldiers protected more than a hundred civilians and rushed into the nearest air-raid shelter. Through the observation holes set on the surface, he saw a scene that made his hands and feet icy.

All the people killed, whether soldiers or civilians, stood up again after a few hours. Their muscles became so strong that they looked like they had taken steroids, their skin turned dark, and their right hand that should have had five fingers became a sharp bone blade about a meter long.

That seemed to be an unknown virus. At this rate of transmission, there would no longer be any living residents in Yiquan City.

Zhang Wancheng, who understood this, no longer had any hope for a breakout.

The rain was still falling.

The old Wei's head soaked in the muddy water had decomposed and couldn't be recognized anymore. His bloated eyes bulged out of their sockets, and his fallen hair clung on top, as if carelessly inserted into the clumps of different-colored soil. The rotten flesh around his neck was disgustingly pale, and the exposed black blood vessels were crawling with plump maggots. They wriggled back and forth in the mushy flesh and enjoyed an incredibly sumptuous feast of putrefaction.

According to the design, the maximum number of people the air raid shelter could accommodate was only 100. Although the excess survivors made the space a little cramped, it was not too crowded. At least they could lie down together to rest.

The distress signal transmitter set up at the window was the hope of all. However, as time went by, the survivors' expectation and thirst for life were gradually replaced by despair and helplessness.

As it was not a war period, no food was placed in the air-raid shelter. Although a water pipe from underground satisfied the daily drinking needs, the threat of hunger looming over each person made the survivors' eyes take on a different look.

Just as they escaped into the air-raid shelter, the survivors had more or less something to eat on them. A few pieces of gum, the preserved plums always carried in a girl's purse, dried fruit... One shaggy young man seemed to have just finished buying something from a fast food restaurant and was even holding a "KFC" bucket.

With the highest rank of sergeant indicated by the shoulder badge, Zhang Wancheng naturally became the commander of all soldiers. According to his orders, everyone had to hand over the food in their hands and he would distribute it according to a set quantity. Surprisingly, this normal command in the military or emergency situations sparked strong opposition from most people.

"You are interfering with the personal freedom of citizens. What right do you have to collect our food? Don't think that you can do as you please in a critical situation. I have recorded the number of your military chest badge, and as soon as I leave here, I will report this to your superiors."

The one who spoke was a middle-aged, overweight man in a suit, with a half-bald head, who claimed to be the head of a certain bureau. He spoke with righteousness while taking out a bag of Tai Ping comb biscuits from his leather bag and eating them loudly. It seemed as if the speed of swallowing was slightly slower, and this bit of food that should have belonged to him would become food in someone else's mouth.

In response, Zhang Wancheng could only sneer. After checking the safety facilities of the anti-aircraft hole, he and eight soldiers sat in a circle, forming a small defense circle and vigilantly observing all movements around them.

He was very clear that with the small amount of food in the hands of survivors, they might not last even 24 hours. Once they reach the limit of physiological tolerance, these starving people can do anything.

Due to the suddenness of the incident, he and the soldiers did not carry much food. Two bags of standard packaged compressed rations were only enough to sustain 48 hours of physical consumption. If saved, it could last four to five days, but it would be barely enough.

"Food must not be distributed to anyone. No matter how hungry they are and even if they die of hunger, we must not give them food."

Zhang Wancheng is not naturally cruel. A few years ago, during the flood in Sichuan, when he was with the troops to rescue and disaster relief, he had received systematic survival and rescue training. Under the condition of ensuring sufficient water supply, humans can rely on stored fat in the body to live for a long time. According to theoretical considerations, every kilogram of fat can provide the energy needed to survive for four days. Even if food supplies are completely cut off, at least one week can be lived.

In this era of abundant food, people's concern for nutritional intake is far weaker than how to reduce excess fat in their bodies. In Zhang Wancheng's opinion, except for those girls who are too skinny and full of bone temptation, the other survivors have no life danger in a short time.

Three days later, what he was most worried about finally happened.

The hungry people became restless. Although the fat in their bodies was enough to maintain life, driven by physiological functions, they began to do everything possible to find things that could be used as food.

"Give your compressed dry rations to everyone. The military serves the people, and you can't watch us starve!"

It was still the fat head and big-eared fat director. Until now, his words were still full of the majesty of the past: "Bring out all the food and let me distribute it. I am the highest-level administrative official here, and you must obey my command-".

In response, Zhang Wancheng took aim and knocked the guy down.

He had to ensure he had a certain amount of stored food. This was not selfish, but the greatest reliance for everyone to survive and escape.

In the most critical moment, even a little crumb of biscuits mixed with water to form a thin gruel could bring a struggling life back from the brink of death. Furthermore, soldiers must also have enough physical strength to launch a counterattack when the rescue team arrives.

Not only others, but after several days, soldiers and he himself also went hungry. Although the painful intestine and cramping stomach constantly tempted him to reach for the biscuits, he always rushed to the water tank and filled his mouth with heavy, cool water, forcing himself to sit in front of the dry food bag, alertly guarding it.

"Protecting the lives and property of the people is our duty and this is also the greatest responsibility of being a soldier."

This was the only belief in his mind, and also the first lesson received by all republic soldiers upon enlisting.

A week passed and the situation in the air raid shelter became more and more severe.

Few people spoke, and the survivors no longer discussed various topics related to escape as they did at the beginning. They spent more time lying on the cold ground, staring at the gray concrete walls overhead, saliva unconsciously flowing from their mouths, and their eyes empty and dull. They looked like live corpses.

Theoretically, it takes a long time for a person to die of starvation. However, under the threat of physiological hunger, few can resist the cognitive confusion brought by the negative effects of the body.

If reinforcements don't come soon, they can't hold on any longer.

Many people start to gather together, talking quietly about various things that can be used as food. People start gnawing on their nails and hair, some show a strong interest in previously excreted feces, and more discuss which of their companions in the air-raid shelter should be eaten first.

The soldiers still guard the remaining food firmly. Under Zhang Wancheng's strict orders, only those who are on guard duty and physically weak are entitled to a 10-gram rations of dry food mixed with water.

Escape is just a luxury. The mutants roaming the streets can't possibly give the survivors a chance. As soon as there is a living person, they swoop down like vultures hovering over a dying prey, tearing the other into countless pieces of flesh and bones.

To avoid accidents, Zhang Wancheng gathered all the women on his side. At least, under the protection of weapons and bullets, the possibility of them being eaten by men is greatly reduced. However, every time he wakes up from his sleep, he always sees the terrible green light emanating from the eyes of those weak women, like the eyes of a hungry wolf.

Women are also human. When they are extremely hungry, they will eat men too.

"If reinforcements don't come soon, we must go out to find food. Even if it means death, it must allow these people to survive."

Luckily, the very next morning after Zhang Wancheng's speech, a sound of a high-speed rotary screw from outside the observation hole filled the air. Three huge "Night Hawk II" vertical takeoff and landing transport helicopters hovered in mid-air, and as their altitude gradually decreased, dozens of soldiers wearing gray-green camouflage uniforms with a yellow-red five-star pattern on their chest and left arm also jumped out of the open cockpits. They quickly put their weapons on the ground, relying on simple constructions formed by buildings and street objects. Within a few minutes, three streets facing different directions were completely blocked off by the intimidating, bright barrels of the rifles, dead set on aiming at the end of the empty road.

"Rush out, our reinforcements have arrived!"

As Zhang Wancheng was shouting in a hoarse voice, skinny black figures also emerged from the opposite sides of several streets. The slender, mutated human legs were quickly approaching at an incredibly fast speed, using their unique physical advantages.

"Boom!"

A muffled sound exploded from the newly built position. With the direction of the sound, a mutant fell far away, a hundred meters out, shaking and falling to the ground. The black, terrifying head had been shattered by the massive impact force of the bullet.

"Hold the position, get everyone on the plane, hurry!"

Zhang Wancheng saw clearly that the shooter was a young lieutenant officer. He held a G180S heavy sniper rifle and every time he pulled the trigger, a part of the mutant's shoulder above would be completely blown up.

His shooting speed was extremely fast and the heavy sniper rifle was more flexible under his control than a normal assault rifle. Especially the incredible accuracy, it was simply unbelievable.