Chapter 55

They had reached their destination. In particular, after the Jixiang Jiayuan convoy crossed the overpass and went to the inner side of the ring road, the people in the other cars that had been following along had no idea what was going on with these four Route 535 buses.

The Fifth Ring Road was a suburban express loop, with no residential buildings on either side. On the outer side, the area separated by the green belt consisted of companies and factory buildings.

As a result, there were almost no zombies on this stretch of road.

Some cars couldn't wait to overtake, eager to grab a good spot.

In truth, nobody actually knew which spot counted as a "good spot," but that's how it gets when there are crowds—someone always inexplicably wants to get ahead, to take the lead.

The driver of the lead bus from the Youth Apartment turned his head and asked, "What do we do? Overtake or not?"

Everyone looked at Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng said, "Keep driving forward."

The four buses continued ahead. The cars behind gradually pulled over and stopped, but the big buses kept going.

Because Jiang Cheng hadn't said to stop.

It wasn't until Jiang Cheng finally said, "Stop here."

"There are no trees here—it's all open and clearly visible, so it's safer," Jiang Cheng said.

The area they had just passed featured urban green belts, also known as the city’s green lungs—large stretches of planted forest along the ring road that blocked visibility.

The place Jiang Cheng chose was beyond the artificial forest area. Along the roadside were already companies and factories. Iron fences enclosed the building complexes and spacious courtyards, where a few zombies could be clearly seen.

"Honk the horn," Jiang Cheng said. "Clear them out."

The buses' horns suddenly blared, startling the cars behind that were hesitating about whether to follow.

"What the hell!"

The cursing came to an abrupt halt when zombies came climbing over the fence: "Holy crap!"

The Youth Apartment people, on the other hand, went "Ooh!"

When there were a lot of people around, basic zombies weren't scary—you could basically just overpower them with numbers.

It was the second-generation zombies that were the problem. They were too fast, too agile—you worried that if you didn't spot one, it would ambush you.

But now, under the bright sun, with an unobstructed view, using the horn to lure out the second-generation zombies wasn't a problem—just go at them.

Everyone was howling with battle fervor. Jiang Cheng said, "Wait a little longer. Don't be in a hurry to open the doors."

The core team was all in the lead bus, and the three buses behind all followed the lead bus. If the lead bus didn't open its doors, they didn't either.

They watched as that second-generation zombie made a beeline for the lead bus, jumped up, and thwacked its palm flat against the glass. Luckily, it hit right in the center of the window—loud enough to make you jump, but the bus window withstood the blow at its center and didn't crack.

The lead bus kept honking, piercingly sharp. But "waiting" really did pay off—there was more than one second-generation zombie. Three more came running out.

The basic zombies were also attracted by the horn, but they were blocked by the factory's iron fence, gray-blue arms reaching through the bars, letting out harsh, grating roars.

But the second-generation zombies were different. They jumped, stepping on the backs of the ordinary zombies in front, and climbed over the fence. Their movements were as nimble as monkeys.

Several second-generation zombies leaped and attacked the lead bus. One struck the glass near the corner edge—thud—and a web of radiating cracks spread across the window.

A second-generation zombie's combat power was far greater than a basic zombie's, and not by a small margin.

Jiang Cheng made everyone stay in the bus and kept blasting the horn to create noise, specifically to deal with the second-generation zombies.

When it seemed about right, and no more second-generation zombies appeared to have been lured out, Jiang Cheng raised the walkie-talkie: "Buses behind us, help us clean these up."

The second-generation zombies were too agile. Jiang Cheng didn't dare open the doors directly—what if, instead of them charging out, the zombies charged in? In the cramped bus space, someone could end up hurt or infected.

The doors of the three buses behind all opened.

This time, the recruited volunteers weren't called the "daredevil squad" anymore—they were called the "scavenger squad."

Young people together always liked to come up with that sort of thing—finding joy in misery.

Whatever they called themselves, though, dozens of members with rich combat experience and fully equipped protective gear weren't afraid of just four second-generation zombies. The people from the three rear buses swarmed out, gang-beat the four zombies with no honor whatsoever, and beheaded all of them.

The cars following behind watched in stunned disbelief.

This group fought in formation—several of them crowded together, working in sync, guarding front, back, left, and right.

Who were these people?

Those at the back didn't know. The young people from the Youth Apartment didn't have to work and didn't lack food—they had nothing but time on their hands. Every day, they'd swarm downstairs to hang around in groups.

When guys got together in a group, they started making trouble.

Especially when facing a survival issue—they really had to do something.

They kept studying the various behavioral traits of zombies, found neighbors they got along with and liked talking to, and then formed small teams. After eating, they'd go downstairs together to practice their "formation" for coordinated killing.

Too bad that by the time they were doing all this, you could hardly even see a zombie on Jixiang West Street anymore. And the provisional committee didn't recommend going out without permission.

Anyone who went out without permission had to undergo a full-body check when they came back.

If they had even a tiny scrape or nick, they couldn't explain it away, and they'd be locked up for quarantine observation.

Everyone practiced their "battle formation" more and more smoothly, waiting for real combat.

Once they actually engaged in real combat, they immediately saw both their strengths and their shortcomings. They'd have to improve based on real battle experience.

But how were the people in the cars behind supposed to know any of this? They started guessing: "Are they soldiers?"

"Doesn't look like it—soldiers walk and eat in sync, and these people don't seem like that. Definitely not."

"Are they college students? They all seem pretty young."

"...Well, not that young."

"Then... employees of the same company?"

The main thing was, the age range was too concentrated. It didn't really feel like people from the same residential community.

"Which community has a mix of men and women, old and young? There's no way it's this uniform."

"Hey—actually, there is!"

Someone actually guessed it right: "Youth Apartment! It has to be the Youth Apartment!"

"I heard they're the ones who cleaned out the Buyduoduo supermarket!"

"Damn, no wonder they could clean out a supermarket. They're really strong."

"Don't get into a conflict with them later—just stay out of their way."

The people in the lead bus got off too.

Jiang Cheng pushed her sling bag to her back, bracing it with her hip against Mo Li, and stood with her hands on her hips, looking up at the cracked glass.

"Jiangbing," she turned her head and asked, "could you crack glass like that with just your bare fist?"

Li Jiangbing bragged: "I definitely could... probably?"

His voice trailed off with less certainty. He'd never actually tried it. He knew in his heart how much of his muscle came from chugging protein powder and nutritional supplements.

The government's supply convoy was still quite a while from arriving at the estimated time. As for the zombies you could see in the open, a few had run out from the woods and had already been crushed by cars. Aside from that, there were the ones trapped behind the factory's iron fence.

Since a group of people couldn't stand to be idle, and the factory was close—just across a patch of lawn—they went over to the fence and stabbed the zombies through the bars with their blades.

Basic zombies were the dumbest. Even if you hacked off their arms or stuck a knife through their bodies, they had no idea how to dodge, and they didn't "die" anyway.

To actually kill them, you had to smash their brains or sever the connection between head and body.

Some people guessed that the brain was the central control. When the brain was destroyed, they died. When the neck was severed, the central nervous system was broken—the central control lost command of the body—and that counted as death too.

But there were also doctors in the neighborhood who insisted they had examined the zombies' bodies, and none of this held up.

This stuff just wasn't scientific! This stuff just couldn't exist! It violated too many principles of biology.

Yet there it was, right in front of them, possibly even an acquaintance or a family member.

You ask the doctor to explain, and the doctor tears at his hair, on the verge of losing his mind.

"These things really are..." everyone said while poking at the zombies, "...kind of stupid."

The basic zombies didn't dodge; they just roared and lunged, trying to bite. But they were blocked by the railing, their grayish-blue faces desperately trying to squeeze through the bars, pressing until their features warped.

People used steel pipes to stab straight into their eye sockets and churn up their brains.

One zombie hadn't been stabbed yet, and it pushed too hard. With the sound of cracking bone, its deformed skull actually wrenched itself through, scaring everyone.

Unfortunately, even with its skull shattered, it wasn't dead yet, its head misshapen, screeching horribly, especially grotesque.

People quickly chopped its head off. The headless body hung on the railing and went still.

The core members of the neighborhood committee didn't join in the chaos; they were handling the real business.

Peng Ze climbed onto the roof of a car. He had binoculars and had brought them along this time. Standing up high, he looked through them for a while, then climbed down: "Nothing. I don't see anything."

No official supplies in sight yet.

Jiang Cheng nodded.

Peng Ze looked around, a bit worried: "Isn't our car a little far from the supply point?"

The announcement said Wan'an Bridge was a supply point, and he always thought it should be right under the bridge, the center point of the bridge.

Their four cars had gone a bit too far. He worried that when the government dropped the supplies, they'd all land there, making it hard for them to grab any.

"Supplies are for 'people,'" Jiang Cheng said casually. "Wherever there are people, that's where they'll drop."

They had a lot of people and big cars; as soon as the logistics convoy arrived, they'd see them at a glance.

Song Jingshuo also got out of the car. He took off his designer sports backpack, opened it, and pulled out a bunch of purple cloth strips: "Come on, everyone, tie these on so we can recognize each other. Don't want any fighting later."

With more than two thousand people in the neighborhood, not everyone knew each other. They were afraid of conflicts breaking out among their own.

The neighborhood committee had thought of even this.

Everyone went over to grab a cloth strip.

Some tied them around their arms, some right across their foreheads. The atmosphere immediately picked up.

Only Jiang Cheng held one in his hand, stared at it for a moment, then looked up: "A bedsheet?"

Song Jingshuo froze for a second.

Li Jiangbing burst out laughing: "Old Song, you have a bedsheet in a color this flashy? Never would've guessed, never would've guessed!"

Song Jingshuo rubbed his forehead helplessly: "My mom bought it. She bought it when she came to visit me. I never slept on it."

That color, in a single guy's bedroom, was way too flashy. He'd always found it annoying, but in the end it was his mother's gesture, so he never threw it out, just left it stuffed in a drawer, unused.

Now he had the perfect excuse to "put it to good use" with full justification.

Li Jiangbing laughed until he snorted.

Peng Ze also tied a strip around his forehead, then climbed back up onto the car roof to serve as lookout.

Jiang Cheng handed him the crossbody bag holding Mo Li, and Peng Ze took Mo Li up onto the roof too, letting him out to enjoy the sun.

An hour later, Peng Ze suddenly jumped up: "They're here, they're here!"