Saving the Living Dead at Dusk
Here’s a dark joke for you: Why is it impossible to wake up one day and find the world overrun by zombies? Because humanity has nuclear weapons. Why must aliens stay confined to Area 51? Because humanity has nuclear weapons. Why can’t the five permanent members of the Security Council go to war with each other? Because humanity has nuclear weapons... In short, the world is so peaceful, the air so fresh, all because humanity has nuclear weapons. This is a work of hard science fiction. There are no power-ups, no fighting monsters, no leveling up—just ordinary people struggling to survive when the zombie tide arrives ‘slowly.’ If possible, this story will be written in four parts. P.S.: In keeping with an old, much-criticized habit, updates will total sixty thousand words each month. Custom tags by the author: ordinary people, grim, zombies, students
Saving the Living Dead at Dusk
Darkness, loneliness, slumber.
He felt nothing.
No sense of time, no awareness of his body, nothing at all.
Let me sleep like this, he thought, until death arrives.
But an inexplicable pang of anxiety erupted from within, and a scene surfaced deep in his memory.
The image was blurred, yet the guttural roars, the nauseating stench, the violent waves of revulsion—all accompanied the crimson tableau that crashed into his mind!
Bang! Startled by the memory, Wang Yefei struggled upright from the sofa, not bothering about the overturned coffee table, instinctively clutching his throbbing forehead.
Pain and dizziness assaulted his skull, the bloody and terrifying images vanished, replaced by a single thought.
‘I’m not dead, I’m not dead? Thank God, I’m alive!’
“Dad! Dad! Are you okay? Does your head still hurt?” His son Wang Chen’s voice echoed in his mind, fully awakening his memory.
Oh, right. He’d spent considerable effort restraining his wife, crouched too long, stood up dizzy, tripped near the bookshelf and knocked himself out—what a string of misfortune!
Now fully lucid, Wang Yefei rubbed his head and asked casually, “Xiao Juan…how’s your mother?”
He shouldn’t have asked. Wang Chen opened his mouth but uttered not a word, turned, and rushed to the bathroom to vomit.
No need to ask; his wife couldn’t be saved. Frustrated, Wang Yefei rummaged for a cigarette, lit up, took a few drags, exhaled heavily, and sighed. His eyes reddened—after nearly twenty years of marriage, the loss was unbearable, eve
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