064 Hurry Up and Move - Part 3

The peninsula outpost they were headed for was only a few minutes’ drive from the substation. The road, however, was in poor condition, and winter fog had reduced visibility considerably. Since the vehicles could not travel too fast while their onboard radar was operating, the two cars lurched slowly onward. The atmosphere inside the armored vehicle remained relaxed, but things were quite different in the Iveco, where tension hung thickly in the air.

Chen Chong fiddled with the nearly new Type 56 assault rifle, somewhat awkwardly inserting the magazine and checking that the safety was off. He leaned back in his seat, glanced around at everyone’s expressions, and could not resist provoking them.

“Why the long faces? When we get out, I’ll go first if that’s what it takes. They’re only zombies. It’s not as though I’ve never killed one before!”

Cui Yongzhi actually rather liked Chen Chong’s personality. The boy had a sharp tongue, was vain, and spoke without thinking—making him easy to manipulate. But when it came down to it, what use was there in sending such a hotheaded youngster ahead to feed the zombies?

He secured the pistol he had been issued, deliberately gave Chen Chong a thumbs-up to satisfy the young man’s vanity, then turned to Shu Chang.

“How’s your marksmanship?”

Shu Chang was an utterly ordinary young man: ordinary features, ordinary height, ordinary in every respect. When Cui Yongzhi addressed him, he forced a smile and tried to keep his trembling hands under control.

“What can I say? I handled a gun during military training at university. I’ve fired a few rounds over the past two days, so I can just about say I know how to use one. As for accuracy, I’m worse than my aunt.”

“Ever killed a zombie at close range?” Cui Yongzhi continued amiably.

“It’s embarrassing, but I have to be honest. I’ve killed a few from behind railings and wire fences. But in face-to-face combat? Never.”

“Hmph.” Chen Chong snorted, his face full of contempt.

Shu Chang did not blush. He was perfectly unashamed. Showing off would not put food in his stomach now; staying alive was what mattered.

“Fine. Stick close to the two of us later, and don’t fall behind. Keep looking to either side so they don’t surround you. In any case, there are more than a dozen able-bodied men in this vehicle, armed with guns and knives. Dealing with a few zombies shouldn’t be a problem.”

Cui Yongzhi knew that, once the tension began, Shu Chang might not remember much of what he had said. Still, the advice had to be given.

Shu Chang nodded. How much of it had actually sunk in, only Heaven knew.

The others in the Iveco were lost in their own thoughts as well. They had come to the Zero-Eight Squad seeking shelter, and they had considered the possibility that they might be assigned this kind of zombie-clearing mission. Yet each of them had harbored a measure of wishful thinking, assuming that government personnel would always stand at the front and handle everything for them.

In truth, they all understood that there was no such thing as a free lunch. If they contributed nothing to the Zero-Eight Squad or the outpost and merely expected to enjoy its benefits, then sooner or later they would be driven out to fend for themselves—unless they were still immature, spoiled children.

The two vehicles reached the entrance to the peninsula outpost, where a concrete bridge of the sort commonly found in rural towns spanned the road. It was more than thirty meters long and roughly five meters wide, without even a posted load limit. There was, however, a height barrier standing over the bridge, marked with a clearance of three and a half meters—just enough for the armored vehicle to pass beneath.

Once the vehicles had crossed the bridge, Wang Chen’s voice came over the radio.

“Park the Iveco across the bridge entrance and block the road. Cover the armored vehicle from behind. Report immediately if anything unusual happens.”

Did that mean the people in the Iveco would not have to clear out any zombies?

Exactly so. From the very beginning, Wang Chen had never intended to send these novices of different ages into battle against the zombies. Some of them could barely use a gun, while others’ hands shook the moment they gripped a knife. Sending such people into direct combat with zombies? What a joke. Bullets and human lives were not meant to be wasted that way.

He had deliberately kept them uninformed partly out of a small, mischievous impulse, but more importantly, he wanted them to witness with their own eyes how the Zero-Eight Squad cleared zombies.

Or, more precisely, how he himself cleared them.

Wang Chen climbed down from the armored vehicle without taking a gun. Instead, he stood there stretching his arms and legs. Beside him, Pablo held a metal basin and hammered at it with the butt of his pistol, clang after clang.

Three to five minutes later, as expected, shambling figures began to emerge slowly from the fog. They passed through the indistinct houses, weeds, and thickets, gradually drawing closer to the armored vehicle.

Through the windows of the Iveco, the able-bodied men inside could clearly see Wang Chen take two fire axes from the vehicle. They were not especially large—ordinary fire axes with red heads, black blades, and wooden handles. Each weighed roughly four or five pounds and was standard firefighting equipment from the substation.

Wang Chen had previously used an Eight-One-pattern bayonet to deal with scattered zombies. This time, however, he would be fighting continuously and facing a large number of them in a short period. He had decided to switch to axes, whose greater chopping power and wider attack range might prove more effective.

As the first wave of zombies approached through the fog, Wang Chen even had time to turn around, raise an axe toward the Iveco, and give them a smiling salute.

Then he turned back, broke into a light run, and advanced alone to meet the horde.

Yes, Wang Chen intended to deal with the entire group by himself.

He wanted to establish his authority among the civilians who had just arrived. He also possessed a body immune to the zombie pathogen, giving him little reason for fear. More importantly, he wanted to experience firsthand just how far Tu Hongye’s enhancement had actually strengthened his body.

Above the national second-tier athlete standard were the first-tier athlete, master athlete, and international master athlete levels. Put simply, these corresponded roughly to national champions, international champions, and Olympic champions. By that measure, a second-tier athlete—equivalent to a provincial champion—did not sound particularly impressive, nor did it seem worth exchanging for the remainder of Wang Chen’s life.

But the second-tier athlete standard Tu Hongye had referred to was a comprehensive benchmark. It did not mean proficiency in only one event.

Everyone knew that any athlete capable of achieving results, even a provincial championship, was extraordinary in some particular respect. Years of specialized training, for instance, could greatly enhance a weightlifter’s strength. But asking that same weightlifter to perform a front somersault with a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree twist and enter the water without making a splash would obviously be unreasonable. The reverse was equally true.

Wang Chen’s physical abilities had reached the second-tier athlete standard in every individual discipline. That alone was already terrifying.

After the enhancement experiment had ended, Ru Xi had cursed Tu Hongye in much the same terms: if Wang Chen’s body were forcibly pushed beyond the second-tier athlete standard and raised to the first-tier level, it would be like asking a national sprinting champion to win the national marathon or weightlifting championship as well.

Yes, perhaps drugs could force a person to achieve such results in the short term. But even a high-school student could guess how long that person would live afterward.

What was more, even the current degree of enhancement had its limits. Raising a person’s physical condition to the national second-tier athlete standard did not mean that the subject could instantly master the use of his new strength, stamina, and agility, or learn to regulate his breathing and distribute every ounce of energy efficiently. All of that required the enhanced individual to discover and adapt to it bit by bit.

Fortunately, in the days following the experiment, Wang Chen had adapted to and maintained his enhanced physique, whether willingly or under compulsion. With Sheng Qingru’s “help,” he had even verified his abilities in certain other areas.

Those indescribable sensations drove him to discover exactly how far his enhanced body could go.

And so, today, here, he had decided to test the miracle he had purchased with his life.