Ling Yechen slept deeply that night, so when Jing Lan called to wake him at 6 AM, the phone rang for a long time before his eyes finally fluttered open.
Tapping to answer, Jing Lan spoke in a hushed tone, cutting straight to the chase.
–They’re here.–
–What? Do zombies really have a sense of smell?–
–You can shine your flashlight down there; they shouldn’t be able to jump up. But something’s a bit strange…–
Before Jing Lan could finish, Ling Yechen grabbed his power bank flashlight, rose, and moved to the edge of the bamboo hut.
As the beam swept downwards, seven or eight dark, round heads appeared below the structure.
For some unknown reason, they seemed unusually sluggish, neither making sounds nor swaying their bodies.
Perhaps stimulated by the light, one zombie suddenly lifted its head, its gaze locking with Ling Yechen’s in an unnerving stare.
Immediately, its lips stretched back like a monkey baring its teeth, revealing a set of crooked, uneven fangs.
The other zombies also roused themselves, raising their heads in unison.
Pairs of eyes, brimming with animalistic hunger, converged on him, and in the dim light, only these dark points seemed to stand out.
Ling Yechen was immediately overwhelmed by a dizzying sensation, akin to an acute case of trypophobia.
Jing Lan’s voice continued from the phone.
–There’s something odd about one spot. Perhaps one of my hunches is correct.–
Averse to meeting the zombies’ gaze, Ling Yechen retreated to the center of the bamboo hut.
–What hunch?–
–Last night, I suggested we each spend the night in a separate bamboo hut, saying it was best not to put all our eggs in one basket, as zombies might track our scent, and splitting up would be safer. That much is true.–
–But I also had a theory: if zombies can track our scent, what if they aren’t equally sensitive to everyone’s smell?–
A small jolt of alarm went through Ling Yechen’s heart.
‘Could it be…’
–Shine your flashlight over to my hut.–
Ling Yechen had already done so, even before Jing Lan’s request.
Although the two bamboo huts were more than twenty meters apart, the power bank flashlight’s maximum brightness could still reach.
As the light illuminated the area, the space beneath Jing Lan’s bamboo hut was utterly empty.
Not only were there no zombies there, but not a single zombie from Ling Yechen’s side was even looking in that direction.
To ensure he hadn’t mistaken the hut, Ling Yechen also illuminated the second floor of the bamboo structure.
Jing Lan’s short windbreaker, a muted grey, became visible in the light, and seeing the beam, he looked up and waved a hand.
–It seems they find you particularly fragrant,– Jing Lan remarked, switching on his own flashlight and sweeping its beam across the zombies below Ling Yechen’s hut.
The zombies, however, remained utterly unmoved.
–What should I say, ‘Brother, you smell delicious’?–
As Ling Yechen watched the gesticulating, clawing shamblers below, a profound sense of powerlessness suddenly pierced him to the bone.
‘Could it be that all those previous crises were entirely my fault?’
‘Even though the zombies didn’t bite only me, they were only interested in my scent, drawing them to gather.’
‘If the Blood Blankets were also a type of zombie, then perhaps I was the one who truly caused the death of Old Feng’s family.’
A wave of nausea suddenly washed over Ling Yechen.
The same unsettling sensation he had felt when witnessing Lui Si kill someone now fully rebounded onto him.
‘It was also my fault that the three-person team was forced to break through the horde yesterday morning, leading to Lui Si being engulfed by the sea of corpses.’
‘And now—’
–Yechen, stop overthinking. Answer me one question: have you recently touched anything with a strange odor? Or have you taken any medication?–
Jing Lan’s line of questioning perhaps felt inappropriate.
Even without ill intent, the overly sensitive Ling Yechen still over-interpreted it as a form of rejection directed at himself.
He instantly convinced himself: if he was the root cause of all these misfortunes, what fault was there in others rejecting him?
Yet, answering honestly, he replied, –No. I haven’t taken my depression medication in a long time either.–
A brief silence followed from Jing Lan’s end.
In that fleeting moment, Ling Yechen suddenly dredged up some strange fragments from the depths of his memory, but before he could elaborate, Jing Lan spoke again.
–Then it’s probably like mosquitoes and blood; some people are just naturally more attractive, I suppose.–
–Senior…– Ling Yechen collapsed onto the ground, his flashlight rolling away.
–Hold on, let me plan how to get you out of there.–
–Don’t save me, Senior. If you take me with you, you’ll die eventually.–
Perhaps depression left lingering after-effects.
Fear brought clarity, but sometimes, clarity only accelerated thoughts of self-destruction.
In that moment, Ling Yechen found himself less resistant to death.
–Don’t say such things. Let me check, I have gasoline here; I might have to use it sooner than planned—–
–Senior! Don’t interrupt me!– Ling Yechen suddenly raised his voice, and the zombies below, hearing a human sound, let out an irritated grunt.
–I know you’re a good person, Senior; without you, I would have already… and your reactions are sharp. Without any signs, you still suspected whether our physiologies were different, whether our attractiveness to zombies differed. Well, now, the results you sought are clear.–
–There’s no way I can survive in this world. Not only am I incapable, but I also attract zombies, endangering my teammates.–
–If it weren’t for your brilliant foresight last night, suggesting we sleep separately, we would both be trapped in the same building right now.–
–So now’s the perfect time. I’ve drawn the zombies here, so Senior, you should leave quickly. There’s nylon rope in my bag; I’ll wait for rescue here, and if it doesn’t come, I’ll just hang myself and end all my worries.–
A profound silence fell over the other end of the line.
Then, from the opposite bamboo hut, the distinct click of a lighter echoed.
–Senior, what are you doing?–
Before the words fully left his mouth, a ball of fire arced through the air, landing beneath Ling Yechen’s hut.
With a resounding boom, it erupted into a massive inferno, engulfing three of the zombies.
Scorched by the flames, the zombies shrieked and scattered wildly.
This time, their lack of intelligence proved their undoing; instead of rolling on the ground to extinguish the fire, they ran, only making the blaze grow larger.
Soon, a second incendiary projectile flew over, though unfortunately, it wasn’t thrown accurately enough to directly strike a zombie.
Jing Lan abandoned the phone entirely, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“Come to my side, lower the ladder!”
Having spoken, he tossed his hunting rifle down from the hut, then leaped from the five-meter-high structure himself.
He executed a forward roll upon landing, dissipating the impact, then swiftly picked up the rifle.
Two shots rang out, eliminating the two zombies closest to the ladder, just as Ling Yechen’s ladder began to descend.
Indeed, one could never truly refuse the invitation of life.
Two more zombies rapidly advanced.
Jing Lan discarded the hunting rifle, drew his Night Goddess Blade, and with a flying kick, sent one zombie sprawling.
He then leaned down, plunging the blade into its eye socket.
At that moment, the other zombie lunged, tackling him to the ground and seizing his calf.
Ling Yechen, having just descended, watched in horror.
“Watch your leg!” he cried out.
As the zombie clamped its jaws onto Jing Lan’s leg, its teeth barely piercing the flesh, Jing Lan kicked it away.
Twisting his body, he slashed the blade horizontally across the zombie’s neck, sending a spray of black blood as it toppled aside.
Immediately, he pivoted the blade and plunged it into the very spot on his calf where the zombie had just bitten him.
The bite hadn’t been deep, leaving only one or two tooth marks, but with a twist of the blade, he painstakingly gouged out a dice-sized piece of his own flesh.
The excruciating pain, akin to electrocution, nearly made Jing Lan faint.
Yet, knowing there were still zombies behind him, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.
“Run.”
The two immediately broke into a run, leaving many of their belongings behind; Jing Lan’s backpack and the hunting rifle were both abandoned.
As they ran, Jing Lan’s leg bled continuously.
Reaching the main road, and finding the surroundings quiet, Jing Lan finally halted.
It was as if the accumulated agony had suddenly been released, and he nearly collapsed to the ground.
“Senior!” Ling Yechen cried, quickly steadying him.
He fumbled in his pants pocket, pulling out a handful of napkins.
Jing Lan’s face had already grown pale.
He pointed to the drawstring on Ling Yechen’s hoodie hood.
“Take that off for me.”
Using the string, he tied the napkins over the wound, a makeshift bandage of extreme crudeness, then pulled his pant leg down.
The pain of carving out his own flesh far surpassed the intense agony Jing Lan had last experienced during an ingrown toenail removal surgery.
A palpable air of near-death weakness was already visible on his face.
Ling Yechen reached out to support his shoulder, but Jing Lan pushed his hand away.
“Don’t do that. Keep your guard up. We have no gun now, so if we encounter zombies, we can only run.”
Gazing at his senior’s face, Ling Yechen felt something within his heart ache and tremble.
He longed to tear his own body apart, fashioning it into a protective shell to shield Jing Lan, and then tell him, ‘It’s alright, you don’t have to push yourself so hard anymore. It’s your turn to rest now.’
He wanted to ask, ‘Where do we go next?’ but the words wouldn’t leave his lips.
Yet, he himself had no answer.
He was utterly unfamiliar with these roads.
Occasionally, small huts could still be seen by the roadside, perhaps serving as potential shelters, but neither of them would enter.
Without the hunting rifle, being trapped inside a building would lead to certain death.
The road itself had almost become their sole sanctuary: they would keep walking, and if they encountered a lone zombie, they would run, often needing several minutes to shake it off.
Meanwhile, Jing Lan’s pant leg was already stained crimson with blood.
This journey, akin to a stroll through hell, lasted for three hours.
They could now see Highway 219 in the distance.
Several cars were parked on the highway, yet no horns blared.
“Do we keep going forward?” Ling Yechen asked.
Although unharmed, his stamina was poor, making him appear as weak as the blood-loss-stricken Jing Lan.
“To the road, to find a car,” Jing Lan replied, bending down again to adjust the makeshift bandage on his leg.
“Now we can only hide inside a vehicle. If we’re surrounded, we can still drive away.”
The napkins used to stop the bleeding were already dissolving into a pulp, resembling fermented chili sauce.
“And then what? If you keep me with you, I’ll eventually be the death of you.”
“I’ll always find a way.”
Ling Yechen stopped, then turned and pulled Jing Lan into an embrace.
“Can you stop being so stubborn? Anyone else wouldn’t even realize I’m the source of all this trouble; you’re wasting your keen insight. If I cause your death…”
As he spoke, tears welled up uncontrollably.
“But you said you seemed to want to live…”
“What does that have to do with you? Do you just want to be a good person that badly? So many people are suffering in the world right now, why bother saving me out of all people? Even if it were a life for a life, in our current situation, neither of us will survive.”
Silence.
Jing Lan had no desire to continue this discussion.
Highway 219 was now directly before them, a mere three hundred meters away, but already they could discern swaying figures along its roadside.