Chapter 18

They all left, heading toward the Crown community, their hopes pinned on finding refuge. But as they approached, an eerie silence filled the air. When they arrived, they saw it—the community had been overrun. Everyone, including the mighty Crown team, had turned into zombies.

~Earlier~

Among the survivors they had picked up from the world, there was a woman who had been bitten but kept it a secret. She pressed her head against the van's seat, her skin pale, her breaths shallow. Nobody noticed her deteriorating state. They assumed she was resting, exhausted like the rest.

Hours passed, and the van rocked gently with the uneven road. Her lifeless body slumped further into her seat. But then, her eyes snapped open—cloudy, unfeeling. The transformation had begun.

Without warning, she lunged at the person beside her, sinking her teeth into their arm. Screams erupted, panic spreading like wildfire. One by one, the infection took hold. Chaos filled the van as those bitten turned into flesh-hungry monsters.

The driver, driving the van oblivious to the carnage behind him, focused on the road. He was listening to music, using earpiece. When they reached the Crown community, he stepped out to open the back door, ready to let everyone out. The door swung wide, revealing a nightmare—dozens of bloodied, ravenous zombies surged toward him.

The driver barely had time to scream before they descended upon him. The infection spread like a plague through the community. The residents of Crown, caught off guard, were quickly overwhelmed. What was once a haven became a feeding ground.

Present…

When Jane, Michael, and the others arrived, they were greeted by a horrifying scene. Corpses littered the streets, and the air reeked of decay. The Crown team, who brought them, now stumbled forward with lifeless eyes and gaping jaws.

Michael, without hesitation, drew his gun. The sharp crack of gunfire echoed as he took out the advancing zombies one by one. Each shot reverberated through the empty streets, breaking the unnerving silence.

But the sound was their undoing. The noise drew the attention of the hordes. Zombies poured out of buildings and alleyways, their guttural groans growing louder as they swarmed toward the newcomers.

"Run!" Michael shouted, his voice hoarse.

They scattered, but the chaos was too great. Jane was the first to fall. As she sprinted, a zombie lunged from the shadows, its teeth sinking into her shoulder. She screamed, her voice filled with agony, before disappearing beneath a wave of the undead.

The Lab coach, panicked and stumbling, was next. A stray zombie grabbed his leg, pulling him down. His cries were cut short as the horde devoured him.

Edmond clung to Glad, tears streaming down his face. His sobs and pleas for help grew louder, drawing the zombies toward them. Despite Michael's frantic attempts to shoot and distract them, it was too late. The creatures closed in, their relentless hunger consuming everything in their path.

Michael, covered in sweat and blood, managed to escape the chaos. He climbed into the van, slamming the door shut behind him. From the safety of his perch, he watched the horror unfold.

His heart pounded as he gazed out at the sea of zombies. He could see Jane's lifeless form stumbling among the undead, her once-bright eyes now cold and unrecognizing. Edmond's cries echoed faintly in his memory, and the sight of the Lab coach's shredded body haunted him.

Michael sat in the van, clutching his gun, his hands trembling. He was the only one left. The only survivor of their doomed journey.

The van became his sanctuary, a lonely vantage point from which he watched the world crumble around him. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the community in a blood-red glow, Michael's resolve hardened.

If he was to survive, he would need to fight. And this time, he would trust no one.

Michael sat slumped in the van, his eyes fixed on the shambling mass of zombies outside. Their grotesque forms writhed and clawed at the air, their hollow eyes filled with insatiable hunger for human flesh. He couldn't tell whether it was their pain or his own that was eating away at him. The world seemed to blur and fade, as if dissolving into nothingness—or perhaps it was Michael himself who was vanishing.

A deep, gnawing void consumed him, a black hole within his mind, swallowing every ounce of hope and every dream he once had. He felt as though he were falling, spiraling into a darkness so profound that even light seemed impossible. Is there a bottom to the mind's pain? he wondered. Is there anything to hold onto—a branch of hope, a thread of salvation? But the answer was silence. It felt as though hope had died along with the rest of the world.

As exhaustion claimed him, Michael fell into a restless sleep in the van. Nightmares plagued his mind, filled with the faces of those he'd lost—Jane, Edmond, the Lab coach—and the monstrous forms they had become.

Suddenly, a loud noise shattered his uneasy rest. Michael's eyes snapped open, his heart racing. A helicopter roared overhead, its blades slicing through the air like a beacon of salvation—or destruction.

He scrambled out of the van, waving his arms frantically. "Here! Stop! Stop! Please, I'm alive!" he shouted desperately.

But the helicopter didn't stop. Instead, it hovered over the horde of zombies, and Michael's heart sank as he saw bombs being dropped into the midst of the creatures. Explosions ripped through the air, sending body parts and dust flying.

"No! Stop! There's someone alive here!" Michael screamed, his voice hoarse. In a moment of desperation, he pulled out his gun and fired several shots toward the helicopter.

Inside the helicopter, one of the crew—a Chinese soldier—spotted Michael through a telescope. "There's someone down there," he said urgently.

"Should we help him?" another soldier asked.

The pilot shook his head. "No. We can't take the risk. He could be infected. Let's blow everything up and leave."

The soldier hesitated. "What if he's not infected? What if he knows what caused all this? We need answers."

After a tense moment, the pilot sighed. "Fine. But if this goes wrong, it's on you."

The soldier lowered a rope ladder from the helicopter, shouting down to Michael, "Climb up, quickly!"

Michael didn't hesitate. He grabbed the ladder and climbed with all the strength he had left. When he reached the helicopter, the soldiers cuffed his hands as a precaution.

"We're taking you to China," one of them said gruffly.

Hours later, Michael found himself at a military base in Tianjin, China, known as the Soldier Camp. The base was heavily fortified, surrounded by towering walls and armed guards. He was brought before Commander Li Chong, a tall, silver-haired man with piercing light brown eyes.

Li Chong's gaze was cold as he looked Michael over from head to toe. "Who is this man?" he asked the soldiers.

"We found him in the midst of the zombies," one of them replied.

"And he's still alive? How?" Li Chong demanded.

Michael stood tall, meeting the commander's scrutinizing eyes. "I'm the last man standing. I survived by grace."

Li Chong's expression didn't soften. "Fine. Then tell me—what caused the zombie outbreak in your country?"

Michael took a deep breath. "It was a water. It got contaminated. Our military developed a vaccine to combat it, but something went wrong. The vaccine backfired, and this mess spiraled out of control."

Li Chong's lips curled in disgust. "Your country is a disaster. How could your military be so incompetent as to create a vaccine that caused this?"

Michael's fists clenched. "Enough! You don't need to insult my country. We worked on a cure, but it expired before we could mass-produce it. We were trying to fix things!"

Li Chong laughed coldly. "A vaccine that expires? Your medical system is a joke."

Michael glared at him, his voice steady but laced with anger. "Say whatever you want. You don't understand the chaos we faced."

Li Chong's smirk faded, replaced by a look of indifference. "Throw him in the cell," he ordered.

The soldiers dragged Michael away, locking him behind bars in a dimly lit cell. As the heavy door slammed shut, Michael sat on the cold floor, staring at the flickering light above him. He told himself. Somehow, he would survive this too.

****************

Meanwhile, Luis George's wife, Mrs. Anabel George, and their daughter, Grace George, had been living in China ever since they left Washington. Mrs. Anabel worked as a cleaner at Tianjin People's Hospital, one of the largest medical centers in the city. The managing director of the hospital was Mr. Li Wei, a man whose reputation preceded him.

Mr. Li Wei was 71 years old, born and raised in Tianjin. He exuded an air of authority. As the director of the hospital, his primary goal seemed to be achieving perfection—or so he claimed. But deep down, one might wonder: was perfection truly what he desired, or was there a hidden, destructive ambition he kept buried? His family often described him as devoted, obedient, and selfless, but his favorite saying hinted at a more complex personality: "Life appears to me too short to be spent in nursing animosity or registering wrongs."

Li Wei had two sons, Wang Fang and Zhang Wei, who couldn't be more different. Wang Fang, the eldest is 30 years old. He worked tirelessly, determined to one day inherit his father's hospital. While, Zhang Wei, on the other hand, is 25 years old, tall at 6.01 feet, with brown hair and black eyes. Unlike his brother, Zhang was lazy, uninterested in hard work, and spent his days squandering money on frivolities and women. His ultimate goal was wealth, but he had no intention of earning it the hard way.

Mr. Li Wei, a former surgeon who had retired from practice, often dreamed of Wang Fang taking over the hospital. He trusted his eldest son's discipline and dedication, while Zhang's reckless behavior often left him disappointed.

One day, Zhang Wei went to the local mall to buy groceries. where Grace George worked as a cleaner. After finishing her shift, she hurried to leave but accidentally bumped into Zhang as she turned a corner. His phone slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a loud crack as the screen shattered.

"Hey!" Zhang exclaimed, picking up the broken phone with an angry glare.

Grace, flustered and apologetic, immediately said, "I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to—please forgive me!"

Zhang's face darkened. "Sorry? You think sorry will fix this? You broke my phone! You need to buy me a new one. Right now!"

Grace's face turned pale. "I don't have that kind of money. Please, I'll work and pay you back. You can even take my phone as collateral."

Zhang smirked. "What? Your phone? Do I look like a joke to you? How much could that piece of junk in your hand even cost? No, I'm calling the police. You're not getting away with this."

The commotion caught the attention of mall security, who called the local police. Grace was escorted to the station alongside Zhang, who refused to let the matter go.

When word of the incident reached Mr. Li Wei, he immediately called Wang Fang to handle the situation. Wang, always the responsible brother, rushed to the police station. He found Zhang sitting across from Grace, who looked terrified and on the verge of tears.

"What happened now?" Wang asked, exasperated.

"This girl broke my phone," Zhang said indignantly.

Grace, barely able to speak through her trembling voice, added, "I promise I'll pay for it. I just need some time. I can't afford it right now…"

"Unbelievable," Wang muttered under his breath. He pulled out his wallet and handed some money to Grace. "Here, take this and go home. This should cover it."

Grace hesitated. "But I said I'd—"

"Just take it," Wang said firmly.

Zhang stood up in protest. "What are you doing? She should be the one paying me! She's the one who broke my phone!"

"Will you stop causing trouble for once?" Wang shot back. "This is ridiculous. Get in the car. We're going home."

Zhang glared but eventually stormed off, muttering under his breath. Grace watched him leave, tears welling up in her eyes. "Thank you," she whispered to Wang before hurrying out of the station.

Later that evening, Grace returned home and recounted the incident to her mother. As she spoke, Anabel's expression darkened.

"That's not even the worst of it," Anabel said. "I was fired from the hospital today."

Grace froze. "What? Why?"

Anabel hesitated, her voice lowering. "I think the hospital is up to something dangerous."

"Dangerous? What do you mean?"

Anabel glanced around as if someone might overhear them. "You remember what happened in Washington with the zombies? I think they're trying to recreate a vaccine… but this one might be even deadlier."

Grace's heart raced. "We need to leave, Mom. If they're going to do something like that—"

"We can't," Anabel interrupted, her voice firm. "If we try to leave, they'll hunt us down and kill us."

"Why would they do that?" Grace asked, her voice trembling.

"Because they know I'm from Washington," Anabel replied grimly. "And they need me for information—information about how to get a sample of zombie blood."