Wu Fan did not venture deep into the Hive.
He stood at the entrance to the third underground level, staring down the dark, deep corridor and listening to the mechanical female voice's welcome message, then—he turned around.
The door closed slowly behind him, the red Umbrella Corporation logo flashing one last time.
Now was not the time for exploration.
There was still a group of people above fleeing for their lives; it would be a huge problem if his talented researchers ended up dead.
Wu Fan hurried back to the first floor. Just as he rushed out of the stairwell, he heard a harsh, grating metallic sound.
The rolling shutter door was descending.
Rumble—
The iron rolling shutter door crashed down like a waterfall, slamming into the ground and shaking the entire building.
Immediately after, a dull thumping sound came from outside—bang, bang, bang—like countless fists pounding against an iron plate.
The zombies had arrived.
Through the palm-sized observation window on the shutter, Wu Fan saw a gray mass outside.
Those things were crowded in front of the door, their faces pressed against the iron plate, mouths opening and closing, their teeth scraping against the metal to create a harsh noise.
Fortunately, this was the CDC's rolling shutter door.
It wasn't the thin sheet metal found in ordinary residential buildings, but a thickened version, fully three centimeters thick, with reinforced bolts on all four sides.
Thousands of zombies slammed against it, but only dull thuds were heard; the door didn't budge.
Wu Fan let out a sigh of relief and turned around.
There were a dozen people standing in the lobby.
To be precise, eleven.
Some were slumped on the floor, some were leaning against the wall gasping for air, and some were hugging each other and crying.
Everyone looked bedraggled, covered in sweat and blood—but Wu Fan scanned them quickly and didn't see any obvious bite marks.
A group of people in lab coats surrounded them, asking about their condition.
"Who is in charge here?"
Wu Fan's voice broke the anxious atmosphere in the lobby.
Everyone looked at him.
An elderly man in a lab coat stepped out from the crowd. His hair was gray, he wore glasses, and his face was etched with exhaustion.
But his eyes still held a glimmer of a scholar's clarity.
"I am Dr. Jenner."
He said, his voice hoarse, "And you are?"
"Wu Fan, a police officer from the Atlanta Police Department."
Wu Fan didn't waste words, pointing at the eleven people: "Please arrange a dozen isolation rooms and draw their blood for observation."
As soon as he finished speaking, the crowd erupted.
"What?"
"Why should you lock us up?"
"Who the hell are you?"
"Lock yourself up first!"
"You have no right to lock us up! We have personal freedom!"
A burly bald man rushed up and reached out to push Wu Fan: "Who the hell do you think you—"
Wu Fan pulled out his weapon, pressing the muzzle against the man's forehead.
The bald man froze.
"Whoever wants to discuss the right to personal freedom,"
Wu Fan's voice was calm, "I'll send him to discuss it with God."
The lobby instantly went silent.
Only the sound of zombies hitting the shutter door remained—bang, bang, bang—like a heartbeat.
"Hey!"
Dr. Jenner waved his hands anxiously: "Don't shoot in here! The facilities here cannot be damaged! There are many virus samples inside—"
"Then hurry up and make the arrangements."
Wu Fan didn't look at the doctor, his eyes fixed on the bald man: "Isolation rooms, do you have them?"
"Yes, yes."
Dr. Jenner wiped his sweat: "There are twelve isolation observation rooms on the second floor, originally intended for suspected cases... follow me."
Wu Fan put away his gun and said to the eleven people: "You heard him? Go upstairs."
No one dared to speak again.
But some still had anger hidden in their eyes, and some kept their heads down, not daring to look at anyone.
"I don't know what you're trying to do, but I hope you aren't a bad person."
Amy looked at Wu Fan with a grim expression.
"I think only bad guys can keep them in line."
Wu Fan said flatly while walking at the back, his gun still in his hand.
Dr. Jenner whispered while leading the way: "Doing this might provoke them... what if they riot..."
"Doctor..."
Wu Fan interrupted him: "You're a researcher, you should know the concept of an incubation period, right?"
Dr. Jenner was stunned.
"Those things infect people after biting them..."
Wu Fan continued: "But if they were just bitten or scratched, and the wound came into contact with their blood, could they get infected?"
"Theoretically... yes."
Dr. Jenner's voice dropped: "The virus can be transmitted through blood and saliva. If there is a break in the skin and it comes into contact with an infected person's bodily fluids, the probability of infection is extremely high."
"So..."
Wu Fan pointed at the group in front: "Are you willing to bet that none of them are injured?"
Dr. Jenner stopped talking.
Second floor.
Twelve isolation rooms were lined up, each with an iron door featuring an observation window, containing a bed, a sink, and a toilet.
The furnishings were simple, but clean.
"One person per room."
Wu Fan stood in the hallway: "Three days, room and board provided. If everything is fine, I'll let you out. Cooperate with the check-ups and don't cause trouble."
The crowd was silent as they walked into the rooms one by one.
As Amy passed by Wu Fan, she whispered: "Thank you for saving me again."
Wu Fan didn't speak, just nodded.
She walked into the room, and the iron door closed behind her.
Two people remained who hadn't entered their rooms.
One was the burly bald man; he stood in the hallway, staring at Wu Fan with eyes full of hatred.
The other was a thin, middle-aged man wearing glasses and a plaid shirt, looking like a high school teacher.
He kept his head down, his shoulders trembling slightly.
"You two, get in."
Wu Fan tilted his chin.
The bald man glared at him fiercely and walked into the second-to-last room.
The middle-aged man suddenly looked up, his face full of terror: "I, I wasn't bitten! I really wasn't! Let me out—"
Wu Fan frowned.
Something was wrong.
This person's reaction was too extreme.
"Get in."
He pointed to the last room.
The middle-aged man wanted to say something more, but seeing the gun in Wu Fan's hand, he had no choice but to tremble and walk inside.
The iron door closed and locked.
Dr. Jenner walked over and handed Wu Fan a folder: "This is their basic information, registered just now. Um... now it's your turn."
"Me?"
"You came in from outside; according to the rules, you also need to be isolated for observation."
Dr. Jenner pushed up his glasses: "But you can choose a more comfortable room, and I'll have a colleague bring you some food—"
Wu Fan smiled.
He took something out of his pocket and held it up in front of Dr. Jenner.
It was an ID card.
White background, red Umbrella Corporation logo, with his photo and name on it.
But in the position field:
"S-Class Supervisor."
Dr. Jenner's eyes slowly widened.
"W-what is this?"
"Umbrella Corporation."
Wu Fan said: "From now on, I am taking over this place."
Dr. Jenner was stunned for several seconds, then suddenly laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh, but the helpless laugh of an old man watching a young person boast.
"Kid..."
He shook his head: "I don't know where you got this card, but Umbrella Corporation? The one that sells cosmetics? Or pharmaceuticals? I've never heard of them having any facilities in Atlanta, and even if they did, how could a police officer like you become a supervisor?"
Wu Fan put the card back into his pocket.
"Don't believe me?"
"Do you think I should?"
Dr. Jenner gestured around: "This is the CDC, a US government agency. You come here with a card from a company that doesn't exist and say you're taking over? Kid, you're a good cop, but you need to rest."
Damn it, once I get out and take you down to my third underground level, you'll believe what I'm saying.
Wu Fan looked at him and suddenly felt a bit tired.
These people who had lived for most of their lives hadn't seen zombies or the apocalypse; they believed in the government, in science, and that everything had order.
They wouldn't believe a young man who dropped from the sky, holding an inexplicable card, saying he wanted to take over their world.
"Fine."
Wu Fan sighed: "Then what do I need?"
"Rest."
Dr. Jenner said: "You also need to be isolated, but I'll arrange a more comfortable room for you, and tomorrow we can talk properly about how to deal with the current situation."
"What about the thousands of zombies outside?"
Dr. Jenner fell silent.
After a while, he said: "They can't get in. The building's protection level is very high; the rolling shutter doors are custom-made, the windows are all bulletproof glass. We have water, electricity, generators, and food reserves. We can hold out for at least a month."
"And after a month?"
Dr. Jenner didn't answer.
He turned and walked away.
Wu Fan stood where he was, looking at the row of tightly closed iron doors at the end of the corridor.
A month later, it'll just self-destruct!
Wu Fan curled his lip. Fortunately, he hadn't been idle outside; he had filled a tanker truck with fuel from a nearby gas station and hidden it in a secure location, just waiting for the day when the CDC ran out of fuel resources to sustain itself.