Chapter 53: Contact with Refugee Camps
Freight Station – 2 PM
The freight yard at the train station looked like a steel maze.
Colorful containers—blue, green, red—stood stacked under the afternoon sun, their paint faded and dull.
Rusty train cars sat abandoned on the tracks. Wild grass pushed up between the sleepers, growing waist-high in places.
Wu Fan stood in front of a forty-foot container while Rick used a crowbar to pry open the lock.
Glenn stood nearby, rifle raised, scanning every corner of the yard.
"Open."
With a final effort, Rick forced the door open and stepped back, aiming his gun into the gap.
The door creaked open slowly.
Inside was only darkness—and the faint smell of dust.
No walkers. No bodies.
Just neatly stacked cardboard boxes.
Wu Fan stepped forward, shining a flashlight over the labels.
"Home textiles. Cotton bedsheet four-piece set. Made in Japan."
He read it out loud, then fell silent for two seconds.
"What are we supposed to do with this now? It's too stiff even to use as toilet paper."
Outside, Merle burst out laughing, slapping her thigh.
The second container.
Plastic storage boxes. Small appliances: coffee makers, bread machines, juicers.
The third container was finally useful—supermarket stock.
Canned food. Cooking oil. Seasonings. Bottled water.
Wu Fan marked the container with spray paint:
FOOD
"Take this one first."
Then came the "blind box opening session."
The fourth container: office supplies.
The fifth: Christmas decorations.
The sixth—
Wu Fan paused.
Inside were hundreds of boxes of liquor—premium Maotai.
Merle's eyes lit up instantly.
"Boss…"
His voice trembled.
"Can I… take care of this one personally?"
Wu Fan looked expressionless.
"Alcohol. Register it and move it to the warehouse."
Merle looked like he'd been struck.
The seventh container changed the atmosphere completely.
Children's toys.
Plush bears. Plastic dinosaurs. Building blocks. Puzzles.
One box was broken open, and a teddy bear peeked out with glassy eyes catching the flashlight beam.
Wu Fan crouched down, pushed it back inside, and marked the box:
PLAY
"Send this to the community center. Let the kids choose what they want."
4 PM – Container Yard
A convoy of trucks left the freight yard.
Wu Fan stood on a high platform, looking toward the distant Atlanta skyline.
The sunset painted the ruined city in deep red.
More than forty containers were opened today.
Barely a third was useful.
Food. Water. Medical supplies. Tools. Seeds. Alcohol.
The rest was useless—at least in this world.
But thinking of the children's faces when they saw the toys…
It didn't feel like a waste.
"Fall back."
He jumped down.
"Rick continues tomorrow. I'm not coming."
Merle glanced at him.
"Boss, are you becoming a hands-off leader?"
"If I have to do everything myself," Wu Fan replied calmly, "what do I need you for?"
Merle thought about it.
"…fair enough."
CDC – Return
As the convoy returned, Amy greeted them with a strange expression.
"Boss… Sandra is back."
"How many people?"
"A lot."
Inside the main hall, Wu Fan saw what "a lot" meant.
The entire lobby was packed.
Men, women, children—some crying, some silent, some trembling with exhaustion.
Medical staff were treating the injured in every corner.
Karina and Gail were overwhelmed.
In one corner sat dozens of exhausted soldiers in military uniforms.
Sandra stood in the middle, speaking with Jackie.
She snapped to attention when she saw Wu Fan and saluted with perfect precision.
"Boss. Mission complete."
Wu Fan nodded slightly, then glanced at the soldiers.
"What kind of refugees are they?"
"National Guard, 48th Infantry Brigade, 3rd Battalion."
Sandra pointed.
"Their lieutenant, Wells, is willing to join us."
Wu Fan scanned the crowd.
"Where is he?"
Sandra nodded toward a man sitting quietly in the corner.
A young officer, staring blankly at the water in his hand.
Earlier – National Guard Camp
Two days ago.
An armored vehicle stopped at the camp gate.
Sandra stepped out alone.
"Umbrella Corporation. Here to speak with your commanding officer."
Inside the camp, chaos had already taken hold.
Arguments erupted everywhere.
"Send troops to recover supplies!"
"We can't feed civilians!"
"Counterattack Atlanta!"
Major Harris sat at the end of the table, exhausted.
Thirty years of service—and now this.
No command structure. No supply chain. Just survival arguments.
Then he stood up.
"Let them go."
The room went silent.
"Give them weapons. Let them leave on their own."
Someone frowned.
"That's madness."
Harris's voice was cold.
"Let them think they chose to leave us."
"And when they starve outside… they'll understand what ration biscuits are worth."
Silence followed.
Then agreement.
Relief.
A way out.
Knock knock.
"Report! A group outside requests negotiations."
Everyone froze.
"Negotiators?"
"Who the hell still sends negotiators in this world?"
CDC – Present
Wu Fan stood among the refugees, looking at the exhausted soldiers and civilians.
Then he turned slightly.
"Amy. Find Sandra. Ask what she wants in return."
The world was collapsing in one direction.
But alliances were still forming in another.