Chapter 4："Foot Recovery: Reinforcing the Fortress"

Chen Dao carefully unwrapped the bandage from his foot. The wound on the sole had significantly healed, with the deepest cut already scabbed over. In a few days, with proper care to avoid water, the scab would fall off, and new skin would replace it.

Thanks to good bandaging and disinfection, along with nutritious meals, Chen Dao's physical fitness aided his recovery. Yesterday, he found a handgun and essential materials, boosting his confidence in his survival.

The radio hadn't broadcast any more signals since then, and zombies still roamed the streets like addicts in withdrawal. For a moment, Chen Dao imagined the bustling, lively street it once was, filled with people enjoying their lives.

Shaking off the distracting thoughts, Chen Dao checked his watch: July 10, 1993, 8:32 AM. Today was clear, not as unbearably hot as yesterday, with a good amount of cloud cover. It was perfect for clearing out zombies and getting work done.

Today's agenda:

Secure all doors and windows from the outside, using wooden boards and nails so the zombies' relentless pounding makes the barricades more secure instead of loosening them.

Search the surrounding houses and inventory all supplies.

Check the community for any usable vehicles.

Let's start with securing the house.

Chen Dao had already gathered the necessary wooden planks and nails, so today he could get straight to work. He lit a cigarette and leaned on the doorway, noticing how the number of zombies in the community had decreased, almost as if something had lured them away.

Scanning his surroundings, he saw the six zombies he had killed yesterday still lying on the road. The mother and daughter from upstairs were also wrapped in sheets and placed together outside. He hadn't had time to dispose of them yet but knew he needed to do so before they began to stink or spread disease.

Casually setting the planks on the porch, Chen Dao began nailing them to the windows, glancing around frequently to avoid surprise attacks from behind. American buildings were mostly wooden or framed with plywood and plasterboard, but in upscale communities like this, houses were made of brick and masonry, using wood mainly for interiors and furniture.

Rich people's houses were made of bricks, poor people's houses of wood. And this Riverside gated community was undoubtedly high-end.

Using a hammer, Chen Dao struggled to drive the concrete nails into the brick joints, securing the planks to the windows. Each window required four planks, enough to keep zombies at bay and withstand their mindless assaults.

Periodically, the noise of hammering attracted nearby zombies, which Chen Dao would quickly dispatch. For zombies, it was a win-win—they either got to eat or find true rest.

For Chen Dao, it was far less pleasant, balancing strenuous labor with constant vigilance—fending off zombies while getting the fortress secured. By midday, he had finally boarded up the entire villa, making it airtight and zombie-proof.

However, he left the garage door unsealed as an exit, its alloy door offering a strong defensive option if a horde attacked, even stronger than the boarded windows.

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he slid his hammer, nails, and khukuri machete back into the tool belt, feeling a sense of accomplishment and secured living space. The machete, especially, had proven invaluable—its length providing safety, the recurved blade facilitating powerful chops, and its fine steel cutting cleanly through bones.

Finishing his work, Chen Dao decided to bring the remaining planks inside as backup. Carrying them, he entered the house and made his way to the kitchen to find some lunch. His cooking skills were limited, and his "Weak Stomach" trait advised against eating anything he prepared. Better to wait until he could upgrade his Cooking skill with training materials and cooking show tapes to avoid self-inflicted food poisoning.

Chen Dao passed by the garage and noticed a box on the workbench. It looked like it had once held a musical instrument. As he placed the planks inside the house and grabbed a bag of soda crackers and a bottle of yogurt from the kitchen, he pondered about the box. The foam inserts were remarkably similar to the ones in the handgun case.

Curious, Chen Dao grabbed his crackers and yogurt and returned to the garage. As he fed himself, he examined the box's contents. The foam inserts had originally cradled something large... like a submachine gun?

Continuing his investigation, he confirmed it had held a submachine gun, several magazine slots, and a large cavity for ammunition.

As a major, the previous owner had some authority. He likely opened the box in a hurry, taking the weapons and ammo while leaving the handgun in the tool shed. Perhaps he considered the handgun unnecessary once he had a submachine gun.

Munching on his crackers, Chen Dao felt the onset of a nicotine craving. Checking his pocket, he found only two cigarettes left. Without smoking, his mood would plummet, potentially leading to a breakdown. Even though smoking was a harmful habit, it was a necessary vice in this apocalypse, masking the stench of decay with the smell of tobacco and soothing his nerves.

After thoroughly searching the box and finishing his crackers and yogurt, he shakily lit up one of his last cigarettes, savoring every puff down to the stub.

With only one cigarette remaining, he hoped to find more in the nearby houses.

Leaving the garage, he strapped on his backpack, tucked the machete into it, and holstered the M9 handgun loaded and secured at his waist. He grabbed the empty golf bag, ready to start his exploration.

First house on the agenda was the one directly across the street. Hopefully, some smoker had lived there. With this thought, Chen Dao strode towards the house.

Doors and windows shut tight with curtains drawn, the house looked secure. Circling it cautiously, he found a few dazed zombies by the walls. Despite the front's appearance, the back door had been pushed in, its panel lying on the ground with the hinges severely bent.

Unsheathing his blade, Chen Dao dealt swift blows to each of the three zombies. The machete was exceptionally effective.

After searching the zombies and finding nothing but clothes, notebooks, pens, and wallets—likely from another location—he dragged them to the street, lining them up with the others he had killed. Including the mother and daughter, there were now 23.

Compared to the 200-300 zombies he had dealt with on the west side of Riverside, this was a manageable number, making him glad he had moved here.

After ensuring the exterior was clear, Chen Dao entered the villa through the broken back door, gripping his machete tightly. Bloodstains covered the floor of the living room, indicating a death had occurred there, though no body was present.

He cautiously checked the laundry and kitchen before moving towards the fireplace and ascending the stairs. The garage and its surroundings were quiet, and the thick curtains in the house kept everything dim and difficult to see.

Apart from the bloodstains, there was nothing unusual on the ground floor.

"Same old mess..." Chen Dao muttered, wary of what might await him upstairs. Last time, a zombie girl had nearly taken out his ankle, so he approached with increased caution.

Scanning the bookshelves for a distraction, he found a hefty book titled "The Unspoken Tales Between Queen Elizabeth and Noldo I."

"What the hell is this..." he mused.

Weighing the book, he realized it was heavy enough to be used as a sound distraction. With a hearty throw, he flung it up the stairs. The book clattered loudly on the wooden floorboards. If there were any zombies upstairs, the noise would attract them.

After a long wait, he detected a faint shuffling sound but not the clear, aggressive response he expected. Puzzled, he decided to test further.

Grabbing another book, "Tales of Louisville's Red Light District," he threw it forcefully, hitting the ceiling before it landed on the floor with a loud thud.

Suddenly, the upstairs erupted with loud banging followed by the sound of a door crashing down. Something big, or several creatures, were up there.

Chen Dao retreated and pressed himself against the wall, watching the stairs.

Soon, a pale but attractive naked woman appeared at the top of the stairs. Startled, Chen Dao watched as she stumbled clumsily down, her broken leg grotesquely showing its bone.

Before he could process it, another naked woman tumbled down and landed on top of the first one.

"What the...?" Chen Dao whispered, bewildered by the sight.

The red-haired woman, her face distorted and jaw dislocated, began to rise, but another naked zombie—a bald man—stumbled down. His rapid movements marked him as a runner.

Runners were particularly dangerous and required distance to trip and neutralize them effectively.

Retreating through the front door, Chen Dao waited on the street, ready for the runner. The bald man sprinted towards him, wearing nothing but a condom. Just as the runner lunged, Chen Dao sidestepped and let the zombie fall, then stomped on its back and delivered a fatal blow to its head.

Turning back, he saw at least a dozen naked zombies, both male and female, emerging from the villa.

A zombie party? Chen Dao was stunned.

With his machete in hand, he charged at the zombies. His experience with slower zombies gave him an edge. The machete sliced through their unprotected flesh with ease, making quick work of them.

As he dispatched zombies, his skill panel indicated his Long Blade skill had leveled up to 1.

Laughing and exhilarated, Chen Dao slaughtered the zombies with precision, reducing the street to a bloody, corpse-strewn battlefield.

After a morning of hard work, he caught his breath and began to explore the villa. His curiosity about the party's nature drove him, though he no longer expected to find anything useful.

Following the bloodstained trail upstairs, Chen Dao was greeted by a scene straight out of a chaotic nightmare. The second floor was littered with blood, discarded underwear, and clothing. It seemed the occupants had partaken in some wild, reckless behavior before their demise.

The doors to all the rooms had been broken down. One was a spacious bathroom with an enormous bathtub, another appeared to be a combined super-sized room, and the last door remained intact.

Entering the combined room, Chen Dao saw that it was filled with bed mattresses strewn across the floor, providing a soft surface that felt almost luxurious beneath his feet. Scattered all around were various pieces of clothing and used syringes, hinting at substance abuse.

The most surprising find was a video camera on a tripod in the corner of the room. Its plug had been torn out, suggesting it was no longer functioning.

Looking around, Chen Dao saw nothing of value in this depraved den, just numerous dildos and other items that were of no use to him. He couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment.

Moving into the large bathroom, Chen Dao found more clutter: water pipes, but no emergency medical supplies. It seemed these partygoers had little concern for safety or health.

Finally, he approached the last intact door. Opening it, he discovered an array of cabinets and a large, color television—a valuable item in 1993. The room had a few comfortable armchairs facing the TV, which was currently showing a blue screen, casting a ghostly glow over the room.

Examining the room, Chen Dao found it filled with paraphernalia—mostly pornographic videotapes, some clearly homemade. His disappointment deepened. This wasn't a treasure trove; it was a den of debauchery.

Having had enough, he decided to step out and enjoy some fresh air and sunlight. Returning to the first floor, Chen Dao scoured the kitchen, finding nothing but empty pizza boxes and spoiled pizzas, with not a single usable ingredient in sight. The garage, laundry room, pantry, and toolshed were similarly barren.

This mansion was nothing more than a playground for vice, serviced by external supplies rather than stocking up. With a grimace of frustration, Chen Dao exited the house.

The villa reeked, a nauseating stench of decay mingled with an overpowering musk.

Looking towards the neighboring house, which seemed much more normal with a lawnmower on the grass, Chen felt optimistic. It appeared to be a family home.

Grabbing his now-empty golf bag, Chen repeated his routine: circle the house, clear any zombies, scout through a window, draw out any interiors zombies, and only then, safely enter the house for a thorough search.

Equipped with his machete in one hand and his loaded Beretta in the other, Chen Dao hoped this house would offer better finds—and perhaps a stash of cigarettes. He approached the house with caution, ready for whatever challenges awaited him inside.