Volume One, Chapter 16: Rout

"Charge!"

"Keep up!"

The two trucks, like maddened steel beasts, lunged toward the area where the zombie horde was thinnest. Zombies standing in the path were flung aside like ragdolls, only to be crushed beneath the spinning tires. The sickening, wet sounds of snapping bones and rupturing viscera were incessant. Wherever the wheels passed, they left behind two gruesome trails of black blood, mangled flesh, and bone fragments.

However, the truck at the rear fell into a desperate plight. The driver, struck by misfortune, had collided with the wreckage of an overturned bus while turning, losing precious seconds. Those few seconds were enough for a massive wave of zombies to completely block the road ahead. Even worse, the route forward was paved with the corpses of previously slain zombies and the debris pulverized by the lead vehicles, creating a muddy, slick "swamp of flesh" deep enough to submerge half the tires.

"Floor it! Push through!" the officer inside yelled, his eyes bloodshot with panic.

The driver slammed on the accelerator. The engine roared, but the heavy truck acted as if it were stuck in quicksand. The tires spun wildly in the gore, losing all traction and spraying thick, black-red filth into the air. The vehicle shook violently, but it could not gain any speed.

"Damn it! We're stuck! We can't get any speed!" the driver shouted, pounding the steering wheel in despair.

By then, the zombies on both sides and behind them had surged forward like a black tide, completely surrounding them.

"Fire! Fire! Hold them back!" the officer roared at the soldiers on the roof and in the cargo bed.

The machine gunner on the roof gritted his teeth and fired wildly, desperate to tear a hole through the horde. The soldiers in the back leaned out, their rifles spitting their final tongues of flame.

"Rat-tat-tat-tat!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Bullets poured out like water, cutting down the zombies in the front like wheat before a scythe. But this did nothing to stop the endless tide behind them. Even worse, their ammunition was visibly running dry.

"Report! The machine gun is empty!" came a desperate cry from the roof.

"My rifle magazine is almost out!"

"Grenades! Use the grenades!"

A few grenades were thrown with all their might, detonating among the horde in bursts of fire and shockwaves. They cleared a small area momentarily, but the gap was instantly filled by more zombies.

On the side of the truck, a soldier's rifle suddenly jammed. "Damn it!" he roared. With no time to fix the malfunction, he ripped the bayonet from under the barrel and plunged it deep into the eye socket of a zombie trying to climb into the truck. Black blood sprayed across his face.

"Squelch! Squelch!" More soldiers were forced into a brutal melee. Bayonets, rifle butts, entrenching tools—everything they could get their hands on became a weapon. The edge of the truck bed instantly turned into a bloody meat grinder.

"Ah—!" A soldier was grabbed by both arms by two zombies and dragged off the truck; his scream was instantly swallowed by the throng.

"Old Zhao!"

"Hold the line! Just hold on!"

But human strength has its limits. There were too many of them. They ignored death, climbing upward over the bodies of their own kind. The machine gunner on the roof was tackled by several zombies and torn to pieces. On the side of the truck, another soldier was dragged by his legs into the mass and vanished instantly.

"We can't hold them! There are too many!" the soldiers cried out in despair.

The truck, like a giant elephant ensnared by countless army ants, struggled in vain within the swamp of flesh, only to watch helplessly as it was slowly submerged and devoured by the black tide. The windshield was shattered by the heads of zombies, and rotting hands reached inside to claw at those within. The tailgate of the cargo bed collapsed under the sheer weight of the bodies.

"Abandon the truck! Jump and break out!" The officer made his final decision, his voice hoarse and mournful.

The few surviving soldiers attempted to leap from the vehicle, but the moment their feet touched the ground, they were swarmed and tackled by the surging horde. Screams, the sound of tearing flesh, and the snapping of bones filled the air.

"You monsters! I'll take you all to hell with me!"

Finally, amidst several violent explosions and the ear-piercing screech of twisting metal, the truck, along with the last few soldiers who had resisted to the very end, fell into a permanent, silent grave within that swamp of death and despair.

Ahead, the two trucks that had successfully broken through accelerated, never looking back. They left behind the hellish scene and the final, mournful cries of their comrades, fading away into the smoke and the burning wreckage.

Inside the command vehicle, Li Junshan gripped his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, blood dripping from between his knuckles. He watched the area being completely swallowed by the horde in his rearview mirror and heard the final desperate sounds coming from the radio. He closed his eyes in agony.

Finally, he squeezed two words through his teeth:

"...Idiots."

It was unclear whether he was cursing the bureaucrats who had forced them to carry out the mission, the damned hand of fate, or perhaps... himself.

Meanwhile, the government military's symbolic "performance" ended in a disastrous rout. The sight of the final vehicle being completely engulfed, with every soldier lost, was like a cold steel needle piercing the hearts of the survivors who had just begun to harbor hope.

High above in the buildings, the cheering died out as if a duck had been throttled. In its place was a deathly silence, followed by the eruption of an even deeper, more profound sense of despair and terror.

"They... they're all gone?"

"That was a whole truckload of men..."

"Even the army couldn't beat them... It's over... everything is over..."

"Woe is us... we're doomed..." Some collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

Hope shattered like a soap bubble, leaving nothing but cold, biting despair. Many had vacant eyes, as if their last pillar of support had crumbled. They silently pulled the curtains shut, hiding themselves deeper into the darkness and fear.

Yet, in other corners, suppressed, morbidly gleeful sneers began to echo.

"Heh heh heh... Did you see that? So this is what they call 'rescue'?" In a dim room, several tattooed men gathered together.

The leader, a hulking man with his back covered in tattoos, took a swig of cheap liquor and grinned viciously. "They made such a pathetic mess of dying! Still counting on them? Better to count on the guns in our own hands!"

"That's right! Brother Long is right!" a lackey chimed in. "What kind of garbage government army? Useless! In this world, the guy with the biggest fist is the boss! Once we loot a few more apartments and get our fill, this building will be Brother Long's empire! A proper little king!"

"Yeah! Follow Brother Long and we'll eat well!" The others chimed in, their eyes filled with brutality and contempt for the weak.

The fall of the government forces did not make them fear; instead, it fueled their arrogant, predatory nature. In their eyes, the law of the jungle that followed the collapse of order was a "paradise" for men like them.