Camp 007: The Corpse Awakens

Extinguishing his cigarette, Wang Chen continued to sit idly. He was bored and considering whether to borrow Hu Ge’s phone to kill time with some games when a figure emerged from the prefab house diagonally across from him. The person paused, rummaged through his pockets, then looked up at Wang Chen and called out, “Hey, got a light?”

“Oh, yeah.” Wang Chen stepped forward, producing a lighter.

As he drew closer, Wang Chen realized the figure was young, no more than twenty. Though his attire was quite androgynous, with almond-shaped eyes and soft lips, and a delicate voice, it was still clear he was a man.

“Thanks,” the man said, lighting his cigarette. “My companion just had a nightmare and woke everyone up. You couldn’t sleep either?”

“Oh, no, I’m on watch.”

“With the army patrolling, you still keep watch?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

“True. Where are you from?”

“Daoli District.”

They were strangers, passing time with idle chat. The man spoke mostly, Wang Chen listened. As the night wore on, the man finished his cigarette and reached for another, when a shadow moving in the opposite camp caught their attention. The figure didn’t remain in the camp but wandered around within it. The camps were separated by a service road, some thirty meters apart. The LED lights barely illuminated a few square meters, so neither Wang Chen nor his new smoking companion could see clearly what was happening.

“Judging by the way they’re walking…” the man’s voice trembled, cigarette forgotten between his lips, still unlit.

“Wait, let’s watch a bit longer.” Wang Chen felt his nerves fray. All refugees entering the camp had undergone medical checks; surely no infected could have slipped in?

Just as their doubts mounted, gunfire rang out—sharp and close, breaking the silence. Unlike the distant, muffled shots, these were right nearby, enough to wake anyone. Panic and shouting followed immediately. Before the gunshots ceased, countless muffled noises rose from the prefab houses, everyone’s nerves taut—something had happened!

Wang Chen dove into his companions’ prefab, wasting no time on words. He kicked Li Changhuai off the bed, slapped Hu Chun, then dashed to his own bed, pulling out his military knife and extension rod from under his pillow. As Li Changhuai scrambled up, Hu Chun barreled past, kicking open the partition, shouting, “Trouble! Get up, quick!”

Once Wang Chen had screwed the extension onto his knife, everyone—including Han Li—was dressed and ready, lightly equipped, standing at the doorway with their gear. Wang Chen took the flashlight from Hu Chun and said succinctly, “There’s a zombie outside the camp. We shouldn’t rush out. Same as always: Hu Ge and I will check things out. Li Ge, you protect Han Li and Qianqian, lock the door. If anyone tries to break it—whether zombie or human—take them down!”

“Don’t worry!” Li Changhuai nodded, gripping his mason’s hammer.

Wang Chen said no more, crouched and slipped out with Hu Chun. Gunfire intensified all around, people emerged from nearby prefabs—some ran toward the service road between the camps, others guarded the exits, peering outside.

Turning to the camp where the suspicious figure appeared, Wang Chen saw several figures moving about. Judging by their speed and the faint shouting, it seemed the situation was under control. Most people seeking refuge here had already dispatched a few zombies themselves; a handful of infected posed little threat.

Unsure what to do next, the man he’d smoked with earlier ran up and said, “I checked with folks from the other prefabs—are you staying or leaving?”

Wang Chen replied with a question, “What do you mean?”

“Leave if you want, but let me say this: the camp still has lights. If you run outside now, there are dark spots on the country road. If soldiers mistake you for a zombie and open fire, it’d be a waste. Better to stick by the two camp exits and wait for dawn.”

Wang Chen and Hu Chun exchanged glances and nodded. “We’re staying.”

Unless a horde appeared, only a fool would rush out when the situation was unclear.

“Alright, let the folks in your prefab know. Sleep outside or inside, up to them. We men should stay awake. I’ll patrol the wire fence with another guy—join us if you want. Oh, the east exit only has three people, not enough. Why not head over and help guard?” The man was polite but a bit talkative. He finally introduced himself, “Zheng Guozong, just call me Zongzi.”

What an unusual nickname—Zongzi.

With that, Zheng Guozong headed toward the west exit. Wang Chen suddenly remembered something and called out, “Hey, in our sector—five prefabs—are we sure everyone’s okay?”

“Huh?” Zheng Guozong turned back. “I didn’t check carefully… I saw…” He looked around, counting, “Four prefabs have people out asking about the situation, one is quiet. Hey, Hui Ge! The prefab in the northeast corner is silent!”

The camp wasn’t large. With all this commotion outside, even someone drugged with sleeping pills should have woken up.

Immediately, the atmosphere grew tense.

As Zheng Guozong finished speaking, a rough voice yelled, “East exit, stay put! West exit, you two, and the other two, come with me!”

In the glow of the camp’s LED lights, Wang Chen saw three men approaching the west exit. The one in front, a middle-aged man, must be Hui Ge—over thirty, half a head shorter and even broader than Hu Chun, with a round face, small eyes, a flat nose, thick lips, and wielding a hefty cleaver. Given his appearance and the knife, nobody would believe he wasn’t a butcher. He wasted no time on introductions, addressing Wang Chen, “You’re sharp, kid. We were so focused on guarding the exits, we forgot about checking ourselves. Zongzi, sure it’s the northeast prefab?”

“Yeah, definitely. I was outside during the gunfire.” Zheng Guozong nodded at Wang Chen, “I was smoking with him. We both went back to wake people. I shouted from the door, didn’t go inside. Four prefabs stirred, only the northeast is silent.”

“Let’s go, everyone!” Hui Ge strode toward the northeast prefab, cleaver in hand. Before he’d taken two steps, the door swung open and shambling figures emerged, growling unintelligibly.

Zombies.

More than one.

“Forward!” Hui Ge wasn’t afraid; he charged ahead, swinging his cleaver at the first zombie.

With a sickening crunch, the cleaver split the zombie’s skull, removing half the cranium and brain matter. The zombie didn’t even have time to raise its hands before it fell backward.

Wang Chen stepped around Hui Ge’s left side, flanking the second zombie. Before it could turn, he gripped his extended military knife, thrust upward beneath its jaw, twisted to scramble its brain, then kicked off its hip to pull the blade free.

Zheng Guozong, who was on Hui Ge’s right, wasn’t as lucky. He rushed too far ahead, moving slower than the zombie. Its raised hands blocked his hammer, and as he tried to retreat, he stumbled and was knocked down.

Fortunately, Hu Chun sidestepped the pair, kicked the third zombie away, sending it sprawling. He crossed over Zheng Guozong, pinned the zombie’s back, and drove his knife into its skull, finishing it.

As Hu Chun rose, he froze.

The fourth zombie emerging from the prefab was a child, no more than four or five, chubby, one hand wrapped in cloth. Despite the pallor and torn lips, it looked like an adorable little one, hugging Hui Ge’s leg and biting down. Wang Chen wedged the extension rod into the child zombie’s mouth, muffling its cries.

What a pity.

Seeing the child’s toothless gums, Hui Ge hesitated. He scanned the prefab with his flashlight, ensuring no other zombies remained, then lifted the child by its arm, as one would a chick, and measured with his cleaver, his face troubled. Shaking his head, he said, “Such a little kid… what a sin… I can’t do it. Anyone else?”

Dispatching a zombie was usually a relief, but this was a dilemma. Everyone stared, silent. Though they knew the child was gone, none wanted to be the one to finish it.

After half a minute, Zheng Guozong sighed, pulled out a fruit knife, steadied the struggling child, measured the back of its head, bit his lip in a feminine gesture, and stabbed.

The child zombie convulsed, then lay still.

“What a damn shame! Such a tiny kid!” Hui Ge muttered, gently laying the child down and tidying its clothes with his stubby fingers. “What a damn shame… damn…”

Everyone’s mood soured, the air thick with blood and decay. After arranging the child’s clothes, Hui Ge stood and beckoned, “Anyone want to check inside? Maybe there are useful tools, and we should thoroughly inspect the room.”

Wang Chen and Hu Chun had no interest in searching the dead’s belongings. They lit cigarettes and stayed put. Zheng Guozong followed Hui Ge inside, soon emerging with a cloth strip. He measured it against the child’s arm and said, “The marks on the kid’s arm are probably from this cloth. Whoever brought the child must have known about the infection, tried to hide it during the check, and tied the child up before it turned. Didn’t expect the kid to get loose and infect the whole room.”

“But isn’t it too much of a coincidence—all the zombies turning at once?” Wang Chen shook his head. “There’s more to this.”

“If there is, it’s not for folks like us to know. Maybe a whole group was infected, just housed separately. The timing might not have been simultaneous.” Hui Ge left the room last, carrying two axes, “Anyone want an axe?”

Hu Chun eyed Hui Ge’s bulging pocket—a thick wad of cash, no less than tens of thousands. The old fox was making a show of handing out two battered axes. He didn’t call him out, but accepted the heavier hand axe, gave it a swing, and asked for a price. Hui Ge was straightforward, “Take it if you like. You helped out, no need for formalities.”

So Hu Chun took it without further ceremony.

With someone like Hui Ge, who dared to profit off the dead, it was best not to fall out. As for trust, Hu Chun lowered his estimate a few notches.

They hadn’t spent much time together, but had fought side by side. Before they could finish introductions, the army arrived—about a hundred armed soldiers, using armored vehicles for cover, combed through the camp like sifting flour. Occasionally, gunshots rang out, but overall, things didn’t deteriorate further.

When they reached Wang Chen’s camp, the officer in charge saw four zombies lying on the ground and didn’t seem surprised. He ordered the bodies dealt with, took down names, and said someone would verify details later, then let the matter drop. He didn’t even ask about Hui Ge rummaging through the dead’s belongings.

In times like these, the dead have no rights.

Some quietly complained about the lax military quarantine, but only in passing. If they checked every wound and drew blood for everyone, there’d be complaints about that too.

The camp was cleared; military doctors in full protective gear disinfected every inch. The armored vehicles joined the patrol, boosting security. With so many hands, the refugees finally relaxed. Rain fell suddenly, and nobody stayed outside, all retreating to their prefabs for sleep, hoping the forty-eight-hour quarantine would end soon so they could leave this cursed place.

Dawn broke before Wang Chen woke, the prefab filled with the scent of fresh grass after rain and a hint of millet porridge. Wang Chen’s stomach growled uncontrollably. He sat up, rubbed his face, and Han Li called out, “Awake? Eat while it’s hot—millet porridge, steamed buns, eggs, pickles.”

Wang Chen didn’t stand on ceremony, took the tray and sat back, devouring his meal. As he ate, Hu Chun entered with Hu Qianqian, calling, “Up? Don’t bother answering, eat. Oh, by the way, I saw some officers outside, going room to room for questioning. They’ll probably be here soon.”

Wang Chen nodded, mouth full of egg.

He finished the last of the porridge, took a swig of mineral water to rinse his mouth, and was about to go wash up when the prefab door opened and three officers stepped in.

It was clear these three were soldiers through and through, though their tone was gentle. The lead officer, with a shoehorn face, managed a smile and said, “Let me introduce myself. I’m Cao Baoquan, military police, captain. We’re here to ask a few questions, hope it’s not an inconvenience.”

Without waiting for a response, Cao Baoquan tapped his tablet and read, “Prefab 28, five residents, three men, two women. All present?” After confirmation, he continued, “You’ll be returning to Changchun tomorrow night with the convoy, arriving at the temporary shelter the morning after. If you have special requests, let us know. For now, I need to ask a few questions. Which one is Ms. Han Li?”

Han Li hadn’t expected to be called first. Her eyes glazed, she instinctively smoothed her hair. That gesture drew Cao Baoquan’s attention to the bruising on her temple and the bandage on her hand. His gaze sharpened, but his tone was caring, “Ms. Han, do you need to change rooms?”

He was tactful; Han Li understood and shook her head quickly, “No, it’s fine, thank you.” She couldn’t exactly say she’d gone mad and been punched by Hu Chun, so she left it at that, sparing Cao Baoquan any embarrassment.

Seeing Han Li wasn’t mistreated—no neck injuries, calm eyes—Cao Baoquan moved on, “We received word from command that you and your companions reported a cult-related murder—is that correct?”

The question was blunt. Han Li’s mind flashed to the gruesome scene of her boyfriend being dismembered before her eyes. The scent of blood overwhelmed her, her stomach spasmed, and she rushed outside, unable to hold back. The millet porridge she’d eaten came up, splattering the ground.

The others took in Han Li’s reaction, then looked at the officer with some displeasure. Wang Chen, less tactful than Hu Chun, was about to speak when the straightforward Li Changhuai blurted, “Hey, what kind of question is that? You bring up the worst possible topic, look at her—she’s sick!”

Cao Baoquan felt awkward. It wasn’t really his fault; any refugee tough enough to reach the airport had seen so much they were used to vomiting. If someone fainted at the sight of a zombie, they wouldn’t have even gotten near the airport. He hadn’t realized Han Li was a special case—when the outbreak began, she’d fled with her boyfriend to the hangar, only for him to be killed and dismembered. She was traumatized, but rallied enough to smash the killer’s head, then was escorted to the airport by Wang Chen and Hu Chun. Her ordeal was tragic, but not as extensive as theirs; her nerves were naturally more sensitive.

Because of Cao Baoquan’s question and Han Li’s reaction, the atmosphere grew tense.

Hu Chun stepped in to smooth things over, “Hey, no need to get worked up. Qianqian, go fetch some water for your sister. Captain, please sit, let’s talk things over calmly, wait for Han Li to settle down. Young women have their quirks. Want a cigarette?”

Hu Chun, as a fitness coach, knew all sorts of people and was skilled in dealing with them. He saw no reason to make trouble for this young captain; even if they couldn’t become friends, they shouldn’t make enemies. If Cao Baoquan was petty and used military connections to delay their evacuation, everyone would suffer.

Hu Chun just wanted to see his wife soon.

Cao Baoquan wasn’t dense. Being assigned disaster survivor investigations required social finesse. Given an easy out, he took it, apologized repeatedly, sent his men outside to stand guard, and sat down with Hu Chun, accepting a cigarette.

Wang Chen caught on. With the refugees under military control, it was best not to offend this captain. He quietly pulled Li Changhuai behind him, sat across from Cao Baoquan, plastered on a smile, “Hu Ge’s right. I’m Wang Chen, also evacuated with Han Li. Ask us anything.”

After a few puffs, seeing Hu Chun polite and Wang Chen eager, Cao Baoquan relaxed, opened his tablet, and went straight to the point, “Take a look at these pictures. Are the drawings at Aijian Hangar the same as these?”

Hu Chun and Wang Chen leaned in. The photos showed interior walls of prefabs, covered with strange symbols—very similar to those painted by Aunt Hui in Aijian Hangar’s second floor.

Few moments in life make your scalp tingle; Wang Chen felt he’d had plenty lately. Staring at those drawings, his mind turned to mush, questions tumbling out. He glanced at Hu Chun, whose lips trembled—not from fear, but from anger and worry. For Hu Chun, his precious daughter was nearby, and they’d just dealt with a handful of zombies. Now these cultists were resurfacing—who knew what trouble might come next!