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thINKer: What would you risk for a costume upgrade?
Yuyu: I take calculated risks. This is a 'I'm definitely gonna die' risk. So no
“Then let’s go!” Chen Liu said, clearly motivated. The promise of high-quality gear was too tempting to resist. Fang Ruoming’s face lit up at the mention of the back door, his fear momentarily overshadowed by excitement. Zhang Chong, buzzing with enthusiasm, took the lead. “I’ll show the way,” he said, his grin wide.
An hour later, the trio reached the main building’s eastern side, where the security room—three merged offices—served as the security team’s hub. The building, once a lively center of offices and recreation, was now a zombie stronghold. From a distance, they could hear the chilling groans of dozens of undead shuffled in the front square. Too many, Chen Liu thought weighing his options. The interior likely held more. Stir that up, and we’re done, he concluded.
A bizarre sight caught his eye: three zombies flailed in a fountain, unable to climb out. Trapped like idiots. He thought they looked ridiculous. The trio circled cautiously to the rear, breaths held, aiming for the fire exit Zhang called the “back door.” It was shut, with fewer zombies nearby. “Stay alert,” Zhang whispered, taking point. Chen Liu covered the rear, his face tense with focus.
Creak—Zhang eased the door open, spotting two zombies in the corridor. He charged, dispatching one with his steel rod. Chen Liu followed, felling the other with a swift axe blow. The once-bustling building was a ruin—blood-smeared floors, red handprints on walls, and a putrid stench. Two zombies with crushed skulls lay amid spilled intestines and flies were swarming. They’re bigger now and fearless. Chen Liu face twisting with disgust as the flies ignored them.
“The world’s changed,” Fang muttered, looking nauseated. The security room was chaotic—overturned desks, scattered papers, a flickering fluorescent light. “Careful!” Zhang shouted as a hulking five-star zombie in a security uniform roared from behind a cabinet. Zhang backed off fast. “You two, front!” Chen Liu called. A five-star’s speed was deadly—he couldn’t take it head-on.
Fang, shield in hand, stepped forward, trembling, his face ashen. The zombie slammed into him, sending him sprawling. “Useless!” Zhang cursed, grabbing the shield as Fang fumbled to unstrap it, hands shaking. Pain or fear? Chen Liu wondered. He circled behind the zombie, pausing as Zhang blocked it with the shield, each hit jarring Zhang’s frame. He won’t last long. Chen Liu was worried.
The zombie towered at 1.9 meters, its head hard to reach. Chen Liu leapt onto a chair, inhaled, and launched himself, axe swinging for its skull. The zombie twisted, and the blade lodged in its shoulder. Not good. I didn’t expect that. His face flashing with frustration. The zombie’s hand shot for his throat. Chen Liu dropped the axe, rolled, and barely dodged. Unarmed, he became the zombie’s focus. It lunged, spilling black saliva on his clothes. He could see its bloodthirsty eyes.
Trapped in the cramped office, Chen Liu couldn’t maneuver. Shit. His face paled as he braced. As the zombie pounced, he grabbed its throat, and it seized his. A steel vise crushed his neck, his face reddening, breath ragged. I’m not strong enough. Panic was rising as the zombi’s fangs neared, black drool hitting his skin. Death loomed.
Thwack—a steel rod pierced the zombie’s skull, stopping inches from Chen Liu’s face. Zhang had struck, seizing the moment. Chen Liu shoved the corpse off, collapsing, gasping, his face slick with sweat. That was too close, he thought, relief flooding his expression. Teammates… not bad.
He retrieved the zombie’s core and tossed Zhang a four-star crystal. “Earned it,” he said, his voice rough but grateful. Zhang grinned, opening a locker to reveal stab-proof vests, riot batons, and shields. Chen Liu’s face lit with a rare smile. Victory’s sweet, he thought. He donned a stab-proof vest, a vast improvement over his leather armor. Claws won’t touch this. He was impressed with himself.
A matte aluminum round shield, half a meter wide and over 1.5 kilograms, caught his eye. Strapping it to his left arm, he felt its balance—perfect with his axe. Offense and defense, sorted, he thought, his face bright with approval. He grabbed a flashlight, tucking it into his vest, but skipped helmets and gloves. Then, he stuffed his backpack with folded vests.
“Brother Chen, check this out!” Zhang called, his grin sly, holding something with a mysterious air.