Chapter 3 – Crazy Orders
Northeast of Atlanta, at the third intersection, Wu Fan's car was stopped.
Not by zombies.
By the military.
Three Humvees were parked across the road, each equipped with mounted M249 light machine guns.
More than a dozen soldiers in full combat gear formed a blockade, their weapons aimed at every vehicle attempting to pass.
Farther back, coils of concertina wire stretched across the street, leaving only a narrow inspection point open.
"Stop! Turn off the engine!"
A soldier rushed over, the barrel of his rifle nearly poking through the car window.
Wu Fan immediately raised both hands.
"Friendly! I'm a police officer!"
"Everybody's friendly these days!"
The soldier didn't even glance at Wu Fan's badge before yanking the car door open.
"Get out! You're being requisitioned!"
"Wait—"
Wu Fan was dragged out of the vehicle before he could steady himself.
A riot shield was shoved into his arms, followed by a baton.
He stared at the equipment in disbelief, then looked around at the soldiers.
Most of them were also carrying shields and batons, while their M4 rifles and M249 machine guns remained slung on their backs or positioned behind temporary sandbag trenches.
There was even a tank nearby with its engine idling.
"What kind of insanity is this?"
Wu Fan's eyes widened.
No wonder civilization collapsed so quickly.
These idiots had guns, ammunition, and military hardware—yet they were trying to suppress zombies with riot gear?
At least give me a machete!
What's the point of this garbage?
It's just feeding the enemy!
At that moment, another military Humvee pulled up.
A military doctor in a white coat jumped out and headed straight toward the passenger side of the police car.
Maddie was carefully carried out by two soldiers.
Her leg was badly swollen and bruised purple, while her face was pale as paper.
"She got hit by a car," Wu Fan said urgently. "Her leg might be broken."
The doctor checked her briefly before waving his hand.
"Load her onto the truck. Send her to the rear hospital."
"Wait!"
Wu Fan's expression changed immediately.
"You can't send her to a hospital! Anyone bitten will become infected and turn into one of those things!"
"Shut up!"
A stern voice thundered from behind him.
Wu Fan turned and saw a white officer marching toward him with powerful strides.
The man appeared to be around forty years old, with a crew cut, a clean-shaven face, and eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
"You, Asian officer," the captain barked loudly, "you are now under my command."
"Sir, those aren't rioters, they're—"
"I know exactly what the hell they are!"
The captain cut him off sharply, one hand already resting on the M9 pistol at his waist.
"But look behind you."
Wu Fan turned in the direction he pointed.
Behind the barricade, a massive crowd of civilians had gathered.
Men, women, children, and elderly people packed the streets.
Some carried luggage.
Some pushed shopping carts.
Others had clearly fled their homes in pajamas and slippers.
They screamed, cried, and shoved one another as they surged desperately toward the military checkpoint like a tidal wave.
"These people want through," the captain said coldly.
"But the other states have fallen too. They think salvation exists somewhere else. It doesn't. There are only more of those things out there."
He paused briefly.
"Our only option now is containment. If they're clean, let them run. If they're infected, lock them up."
Wu Fan opened his mouth, unable to respond.
"So your mission is simple."
The captain pointed toward the defensive line.
"Stand there. Use whatever's in your hands. Stop anyone from crossing that line. Human or infected."
"But—"
"If you try to run…"
The captain slowly drew his pistol.
At the same time, another soldier nearby pressed the cold barrel of an M4 rifle against Wu Fan's chest.
"I'll execute you as a deserter. Understood?"
Wu Fan stared at the rifle, then into the captain's eyes.
Those were not joking eyes.
Those were the eyes of a man who had seen real combat—and who would absolutely pull the trigger.
"…Understood."
Wu Fan clenched his teeth as he answered.
The captain holstered his weapon and turned away.
"Get back to the front line."
Wu Fan gripped the shield and baton tightly as he walked toward the defensive position.
A dozen soldiers stood scattered along the line.
Calling them "soldiers" almost felt generous.
Most looked like fresh recruits.
Some still had acne on their faces.
Others were visibly trembling while holding their shields.
Two hundred meters behind them, the veteran troops manned heavy weapons.
Their guns weren't pointed at the enemy.
They were pointed at them.
Wu Fan suddenly understood everything.
These recruits were expendable.
If the zombies broke through, they would die first.
If the refugees rioted, they would die first.
No matter what happened, they were the sacrificial line.
And the veterans behind them weren't there to protect them—
They were there to prevent them from fleeing.
Cold-blooded.
But brutally realistic.
Wu Fan walked toward the calmest-looking recruit nearby.
The kid looked no older than nineteen, with blond hair and freckles scattered across his face.
"Hey," Wu Fan whispered.
The blond soldier glanced at his police uniform and blinked.
"You're a cop?"
"Yeah. Listen carefully. If those things attack later, remember one thing—only headshots work."
The blond soldier frowned.
"What?"
"Those so-called rioters are already dead."
Wu Fan stared directly into his eyes.
"They don't feel pain. They don't get tired. Shooting the body is useless. Destroy the brain, and they stop moving."
The young soldier stared at him for several seconds.
Then he laughed.
Actually laughed.
"Man, do you hear yourself?"
He grinned casually.
"If we're allowed to shoot them, wouldn't it be faster to blow their heads off with rifles instead of poking them with sticks?"
He chuckled at his own joke.
Wu Fan looked at him silently.
Then he suddenly felt sad.
This kid hadn't seen a real Walker yet.
He still thought this was just another riot.
Still believed the military had things under control.
Still believed the baton in his hand could save his life.
He had no idea how insane this world truly was.
In the early days of every apocalypse, the people in charge always seemed to lose their minds.
They feared public backlash.
Feared responsibility.
Feared being filmed shooting "civilians."
So they delayed.
They hesitated.
And by the time they finally gave the order to open fire, it was already too late.
Too many soldiers were dead.
The defensive lines had collapsed.
Then the zombie horde swept over everything.
"Listen…"
Wu Fan lowered his voice while quietly scanning for escape routes.
"If you survive this, remember what I said. Aim for the head. Only the head—"
Before he could finish—
The screams in the distance suddenly intensified.
The crowd's panic transformed into shrieks of pure terror.
Then they appeared.
At first, only a few figures staggered into view.
Then dozens.
Then hundreds.
A sea of undead shuffled forward with stiff movements and blood-covered mouths.
Their clothing was torn and stained dark brown with dried blood.
Some were missing arms.
Some had their stomachs ripped open, intestines dragging across the ground.
But they kept moving.
Kept searching.
Kept hungering.
"Ready—!"
A sergeant major raised his hand.
The soldiers lifted their rifles.
The sound of safeties clicking off echoed across the barricade.
Wu Fan stared at the approaching zombie horde.
Then at the terrified refugees behind him.
Then at the veterans' heavy machine guns pointed at their backs.
Finally, his gaze locked onto a small alley ten meters to his right.
There was an iron gate at the entrance.
And the smaller side door had been left slightly open.
That was his escape route.
Twenty meters.
The zombies entered effective range.
Wu Fan took a deep breath.
Then—
He ran.
"Hey! Don't charge in alone!" the blond recruit shouted.
"He's insane," another soldier muttered. "Guess bravery turns into stupidity real fast."
Wu Fan ignored them.
He charged directly into the zombie horde.
Shield forward.
Baton raised.
Years of training suddenly paid off.
Five years in the gym.
Five-kilometer runs every single day.
Like a protagonist in an action movie, he slammed his shield into the nearest Walker and swung his baton hard into another's skull.
Bang!
The sound was like striking wet wood.
The Walker staggered but didn't fall.
Its skull hadn't fully decayed yet—it was still tough.
Wu Fan didn't have time for another strike.
The third and fourth Walkers lunged at him immediately.
He dodged one clawing hand, then rammed another Walker backward with his shield.
But he was surrounded.
More than a dozen zombies closed in around him.
Black blood dripped from their mouths as gray-white eyes locked onto him hungrily.
Wu Fan's heart pounded violently.
Adrenaline accelerated every movement.
He stopped aiming for precise kills.
Instead, he used the shield to force open a path while pushing toward the alley inch by inch.
Five meters.
Three meters.
One meter—
"AHHHH!"
He roared and smashed the final Walker blocking his path before throwing away the shield and baton entirely.
Then he squeezed sideways through the narrow iron gate.
Clang!
He slammed it shut behind him.
Immediately, dozens of rotting faces pressed against the wire mesh as decayed hands clawed through desperately.
Wu Fan collapsed against the wall, gasping for breath.
Outside, he could still hear the soldiers shouting.
"That bastard ran away!"
"Damn it, I thought he was brave!"
"Forget him! The rioters are here! Get ready!"
Then the gunfire began.
M4 rifles roared.
Screams filled the streets.
Human cries mixed together with the inhuman growls of the undead.
Wu Fan never looked back.
He turned and sprinted deeper into the alley.
But then—
Another sound echoed ahead of him.
Footsteps.
Many footsteps.
Wu Fan looked up—
And his scalp instantly went numb.
At the far end of the alley, another massive horde of zombies was pouring inward.
The moment they saw him, they accelerated like sharks smelling blood.
Wu Fan turned and ran again.
At the end of the alley stood a rusted iron fire escape.
He jumped upward, grabbed the bottom ladder, and climbed frantically.
Halfway up—
A hand suddenly grabbed his ankle.
Wu Fan looked down.
A zombie with a mangled jaw stared up at him.
One eyeball dangled from its socket while its teeth clicked hungrily.
Wu Fan kicked it hard.
It didn't let go.
A second kick.
A third—
Finally, the hand released him.
The zombie disappeared back into the sea of undead below.
Wu Fan scrambled onto the platform and collapsed flat against the metal flooring, breathing heavily.
He looked down.
The entire alley was packed with zombies.
They pressed together like sardines in a can, countless hands reaching upward toward him.
Some fingers had missing nails, exposing white bone beneath.
Some still wore bright nail polish.
Some still wore wedding rings.
Wu Fan's heart felt like it might burst from his chest.
Cold sweat soaked through his police uniform.
Watching zombies on television was one thing.
Experiencing them in real life was completely different.
Every instinct in his body screamed at him to run.
His brain had nearly stopped functioning, leaving only raw survival instinct behind.
This was the terror of seeing creatures that once were human—
But no longer were.
Wu Fan lay trembling on the metal stairs for an entire minute before forcing himself to move again.
Then he began searching for anything useful.
Wooden planks.
Metal sheets.
Anything he could use to build a bridge to the rooftop of the adjacent building.