069 The Hand That Holds Up the Sky - Part 1

Amidst the thick morning mist, three common river barges lined up, moving slowly but steadily toward the riverbank. These unpowered vessels, propelled or towed by others, were constructed of concrete; they were flat-bottomed and possessed a high load capacity. The gray, desolate holds were packed with dense throngs of zombies, held back only by simple mooring ropes. Other zombies bobbed in the water, splashing and being pushed forward by the barges. It was clear that once the barges ran aground and the ropes were released, the zombies would overrun the entire camp within minutes.

This was a scorched-earth tactic! A brilliant, ruthless maneuver that cost the enemy a thousand while incurring zero losses for the aggressor. Even more diabolical was the use of the heavy fog as cover; the defenders at the bridgehead dared not retreat, and with zombies inside the "village," heavy weaponry could not be used recklessly. Given the meager handful of men currently guarding the peninsula, after clearing out the zombies—by which time they would be half-dead from exhaustion and further depleted in numbers—what energy would they have left to fight to the death against Boss Tian and his gang of hardened criminals?

Like the civilians who had never encountered a zombie horde before when retrieving ammunition, Cui Yongzhi felt his courage wither the moment he saw the incoming mass of undead. Realizing the enemy’s intent in an instant, he knew the camp was doomed. Retreating early and handing over the base was, in his mind, the best strategy. No matter how formidable Captain Wang was—capable of hacking down dozens of zombies with two axes—there were hundreds here across three barges; he would be hacked to death from exhaustion long before he could finish them. Better to flee for his life than be swallowed by the horde here.

Decisiveness had always been one of the survival credos that kept Cui Yongzhi alive. Without a word, he dropped his walkie-talkie, shouted, "We can't hold them! Run!" and turned toward the hydroelectric plant. Even if there wasn't enough time to lay down the drawbridge planks, he could hold the entrance to the plant and use it as a bargaining chip to beg Boss Tian for mercy; the chances of survival were high. It must be admitted that for a deputy county magistrate, Cui Yongzhi’s judgment and grasp of the situation were quite precise.

With someone taking the lead, the terrified civilians naturally moved to follow suit. But before they could even turn, a crisp gunshot froze them all in their tracks.

Cui Yongzhi, having already run seven or eight steps, stopped abruptly. He managed one more stumbling step before collapsing face-first into the dirt, his rear end pointing skyward. Chen Chong, who had been standing beside him and was now behind him, stepped forward and, without hesitation, fired another shot into the back of the deputy magistrate, who was still twitching and gasping for breath, effectively turning him into a permanent "former" deputy magistrate.

"Listen to me!" Chen Chong brandished his pistol, his bloodshot eyes and savage expression chilling everyone to the bone. "Listen up! I pissed my pants from fear of the horde last night! I’ve already lost face for the boss once! If I run away from this horde again, I won't be able to show my face in this circle anymore! If I’m finished, none of you will live! Cui is the example! If you want to shoot me in the back, go ahead! As long as you’re not afraid of my father, a provincial-level cadre, coming after you! Now, turn around! Charge forward! While they’re still getting off the boats, aim and fire!"

Well, the foolish youth had managed to stabilize the situation with a ridiculous justification, yet one could hardly call him wrong. For many children of high-ranking officials, face was paramount. Even Ma Tian, having felt slighted and humiliated outside the Shanghai military camp, had refused to reconcile with Lieutenant Colonel Zhang Kaifeng, whose son had died. It was precisely because of that pride that the Zero-Eight Squad had managed to acquire their prized possession—the armored vehicle.

With the armored vehicle gone and the camp in peril, Chen Chong had no time for old grudges. Under his command, the six civilians leveled their guns and began firing wildly at the zombie horde, which was currently untying the mooring ropes.

This was, in fact, a massive mistake.

Like many who watch too many movies and TV shows, they believed that car doors could stop bullets and that spraying fire with assault rifles looked cool and powerful. In reality, the rate of fire for an assault rifle on full auto is incredibly high; thirty rounds are spent in mere seconds. Coupled with the heavy recoil of 7.62mm ammunition, it is extremely difficult for untrained individuals to control their fire while standing. Chen Chong and his men, facing such a massive number of zombies for the first time outside the protection of their vehicles, suffered from poor form and stiff fingers. The result of hundreds of rounds fired was a loud, spectacular scene, but the actual effect could only be described as pathetic.

To make matters worse, they were shaking so badly while reloading that three of the seven dropped their magazines and had to bend down to pick them up, while the remaining four continued firing, nearly deafening their crouching comrades.

By the time the second magazines were spent, less than one-fifth of the zombies had been neutralized, and most of those were merely wounded rather than fully incapacitated. Chen Chong’s mind, previously clouded by shame and fury, finally began to cool. He roared, "Switch to semi-auto! Switch to single shots!"

It was too late.

"I’m out of ammo!"
"I only had two magazines! They're both empty!"
"I have one left!"
"Reload, quickly!"

One could not blame the civilians for not carrying enough magazines on patrol. Firstly, while Wang Chen had brought back tens of thousands of rounds, there were no magazines to go with them. They each carried only two magazines and a small bag of loose rounds. Secondly, the original plan had been to reload by hand, one bullet at a time, during lulls in the fighting. But now? With the fire at their eyebrows, there was no time!

Fortunately, it was only late autumn, and temperatures were far from freezing; the water wouldn't ice over for another month. The zombies, lacking intelligence, did not know to walk along the scattered stones on the riverbank for a faster approach. Aside from a few lucky ones who stumbled onto the stone path and attracted Chen Chong’s fire, most were trapped, struggling through the deep mud. Some lost their balance and fell, becoming "human speed bumps" alongside those already taken down by Chen Chong’s group. The combination of mud and obstacles slowed the surging horde even further.

Of course, reloading also took time. As the zombies moved slowly, the gunfire remained sporadic, capable only of picking off the fastest few but unable to halt the advance. As more zombies fell and became "stepping stones" for those behind them, the mud’s resistance was gradually negated. The horde’s speed began to increase, and the civilians were forced to retreat.

Though the zombies were slow, the entire peninsula camp was only three or four thousand meters in circumference. How large could the small riverbank be? Within three short minutes of firing, the bank was already swarming. If not for the sound of gunfire drawing the horde together and the steep slopes on either side of the bank, the zombies would have already spread out completely.