The village drew closer. Many roads in China cut straight through settlements—often the only route, with no alternatives. This village was unavoidable.
The snowplows ahead blocked our view, so we relied on Da-Peng—guarding the lead snowplow driver—to report via walkie-talkie.
"Bad news! This village is a damn ghost town! I see them—and they see us too!" Da-Peng's voice crackled through the radio.
Though expected, tension spiked. Vehicles quickly closed ranks, reforming the interconnected convoy.
Keeping the vehicles linked was our strategy—and it worked, though bumpers groaned under the strain. Drivers needed extreme focus: if the front vehicle stopped suddenly, the one behind had to brake hard. Drivers watched the road while their protectors handled defense.
Low growls echoed as zombies surged forward.
The snowplows' grinding gears never faltered, chewing through undead ranks. Blood mist and gore sprayed from their sides—a grisly but effective spectacle. I thanked fate we hadn't abandoned them.
Then, zombies in tattered clothes clawed up the roadside slopes, flanking the convoy!
My heart leapt to my throat. I spun to check the coach carrying Shuai Shuai and my parents.
Through the wide front window, I saw Second Brother's calm face. He flashed an OK sign. Somehow, his presence reassured me.
The coach's windows were sealed, but roof vents could open. Second Brother climbed up, torso exposed to the elements.
What was he doing?
Thwip!An arrow sank into the skull of a zombie nearing the coach door. It dropped silently.
The coach rolled steadily onward, leaving the corpse behind.
"Incredible shot!" I exclaimed. Jianan cheered, "I knew he had skills!"
But Second Brother only shot zombies approaching the doors. He ignored those pounding the coach sides—his arrows were limited. He conserved them wisely.
This childlike man had sharp instincts.
Zombies, baffled by sealed vehicles, uselessly swarmed the sides. Only door-threats earned Second Brother's arrows.
Suddenly, a zombie squeezed between our Land Rover and the one ahead, trapped between bumpers.
It snarled, clawing our hood. Rotting face close, I swore I smelled its decay.
"Thanks for being our custom bumper cushion," Qin Goodluck joked grimly.
But the zombie ripped itself in half! Its torso scrambled toward us, battering the windshield within seconds.
"Dammit, ugly! Scram!" Goodluck roared as his prized vehicle shuddered.
"Goodluck, open the sunroof. Mind the gap—don't look at it." I stood on the seat, long blade in hand.
As the sunroof opened, I rose through it. The half-zombie on the windshield lunged—but my blade took its head before it could react.
The corpse tumbled off. I dropped back inside, and Goodluck sealed the roof.
My brief appearance drew more zombies to our sides.
I had Goodluck lower the rear windows. Jianan and I took sides, stabbing through the glass at zombies pressed against it.
Thus, the convoy carved through the undead, entering the village.
The commotion had drawn zombies to the entrance, leaving the interior sparse. As the path cleared, the snowplows accelerated, and we followed closely.
A sign appeared ahead: Aimin Supermarket!
"There's a supermarket ahead. Should we resupply?" Sixth Brother's voice came through the radio.
I estimated the trailing zombies' distance—we had time. While supplies were adequate, we shouldn't waste opportunities.
"Sixth Brother, let's go!" we agreed.
The convoy halted before the supermarket.
The door was shut. Were there survivors inside? Or a family of zombies?
We approached cautiously. Knocking, I called, "Anyone in there?"
Silence.
Lao Wu stepped forward, picking the lock swiftly.
Meng Yidong kicked the door open.
This duo made a perfect raid team: one picked locks, the other used force.
Inside, the dim supermarket held tidy shelves: cases of Kangshifu and Uni-President instant noodles, water, drinks, packaged sausages, salted duck eggs, and various local snacks—even cigarettes, likely for passing travelers. Everything was orderly, untouched by looters or zombies.
While some stood guard, others swiftly loaded supplies into Land Rover trunks—too rushed to open the freight truck.
Then I spotted it: a camouflaged door near the back wall, paint-blended and handle-less—almost invisible.
I signaled others over.
The door opened inward—and was locked from inside.
"Hey, anyone in there? We're friendly—we can help!" I softened my voice, hoping to reassure any survivors.
No response. Maybe empty—or occupied by the dead.
We had to check.
Lao Wu examined it. "Just a simple bolt inside—too flimsy to stop zombies. Lucky it wasn't found." He slipped a tool into the gap, flicked the bolt, and pushed the door open.
Darkness within. As light entered, I saw a body!
I raised my blade, fearing a dormant zombie.
But it was a young woman, maybe twenty, motionless. Empty water bottles and bread wrappers lay nearby.
Had she starved? Why, with a full supermarket nearby?
I checked her pulse. Faint—but she was alive!
"Duo Jie, back to the vehicles! Zombies are closing in!" Erbao rushed in.
"Quick, carry her out! She's alive!" I gestured. Fatty and Erbao lifted the girl, and we fled to the convoy.
As zombie roars neared, Da-Peng ordered the convoy onward.
The girl was taken to the coach where Doctors Ke'er, Ruowang, and Xiaoshuang could treat her.
I boarded the coach, concerned for her survival.
Dr. Ke'er checked her eyes and tongue. "Dehydrated and weak, but fine." After water, the girl—Shasha—stirred awake.
She wept weakly, like a kitten.
"You're safe now. What's your name?" I asked.
"Shasha… I was so scared!" she repeated, trembling.
"Eat slowly." I offered bread. She devoured it, choking until water helped.
"Why starve with a supermarket full of food?" I patted her back.
"I was too scared! At first, I took food, but zombies multiplied… I hid, too terrified to leave…" She wept again, mentioning her parents—likely turned into zombies.
I comforted her as the convoy left the grim village behind.
Fed and safe, Shasha slept, weak but recovering.
The convoy rolled through deserted roads, passing abandoned vehicles.
I checked Shuai Shuai—asleep in my mother's arms, blissfully unaware. Children live in the moment: eat, play, sleep.
Second Brother sat nearby, counting his remaining arrows.
"Your archery's impressive," I said sincerely.
Second Brother grinned. "This range is nothing! I could hit eyes or ears from much farther. I practiced on straw targets for years."
"A prodigy! When did you start?"
"Age three. My father made me a tiny bow. I loved it—ignored other toys. By ten, I was skilled. He sent me to Uncle Zhang, a famed hunter—I trained with him for 19 years, until… he turned…" He trailed off, but I knew he'd ended Uncle Zhang's suffering.
Twenty-nine years old—nineteen spent training. Their bond must have been like father and son.
"I won a youth archery silver medal once. Uncle Zhang said mastery matters more than fame—skills are forever." He counted his arrows again. "I need to make more. These won't last."
"At the farm, materials will be plentiful. And—could you teach Shuai Shuai archery when he's older?"
"Duo Jie, I've already decided! I'll make him a master—Uncle Zhang's legacy will live on!" He beamed, childlike.
"Then it's settled. Start when you think he's ready."