Chapter Nine: The First Night

It’s perfectly normal for a wound infection to cause a fever. In fact, whether it’s humans or animals, disease is always the leading cause of death. Even carnivores in the jungle, unless driven by extreme hunger, rarely target aggressive animals as their prey—even if those animals are much weaker—because they fear injury. An injury can lead to an infected wound, which can then lead to death. Without antibiotics, a severe laceration is almost a death sentence.

This was exactly the situation Liu Chang now faced. Although he had medicine, it seemed completely ineffective against the mutated bacteria ravaging his body. He felt himself growing colder, his headache worsening, and his vision blurring behind his glasses.

Another hour passed. Nearby, people began rustling about, preparing food. Clenching his teeth, Liu Chang forced himself over to the crowd, grabbed a can of eight-treasure porridge from the counter, and made himself eat it. He understood that no one in this world would look after him; if he wanted to survive, he had to eat—even if he had no appetite at all.

After finishing the porridge, Liu Chang leaned back against the wall, curled up, and felt the chill creeping around him.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Seeing Liu Chang hunched over, Fatty and a few others came over.

“Man, your feet really stink!” Liu Tao approached too, pinching his nose.

“Hey, in most apocalypse stories, not many people die of illness!” Glasses joked, trying to lighten the tense mood.

“Heh, no matter when, disease always claims the most lives.” Liu Chang sighed, slumping against the wall.

“You have a fever?” It was only when they got closer that they noticed how pale Liu Chang had become.

“It’s nothing.”

“Take some fever medicine.” They rummaged through their bags, found some antipyretics, and helped Liu Chang swallow them.

The bitter tablets went down with a gulp of mineral water, and Liu Chang nodded his thanks.

But just as he finished taking the medicine, a heart-wrenching scream erupted from the direction of the convenience store’s restroom. It was a truly bloodcurdling cry, the kind that tears through the throat and shreds the vocal cords, only to be muffled partway by thick, sticky blood, turning into a gurgling moan.

“Mom!” At that sound, Fatty’s face changed dramatically. His huge body sprang up from the ground with surprising agility and charged toward the restroom as fast as he could.

Others, driven by curiosity, followed Fatty toward the restroom. Liu Chang forced himself to stand, mingled with the crowd, and moved toward the interior.

Someone had already lit a candle inside. Following the light, Liu Chang stepped into the inner corridor and was immediately assaulted by the thick, metallic stench of blood. Ahead, several people were doubled over, vomiting against the wall, their recently eaten dinners now a sticky mess mingled with the acrid smell of stomach acid, filling the entire hallway.

Through the shifting crowd, Liu Chang caught a glimpse of the scene that made his own stomach churn.

A mutilated corpse lay sprawled on the floor. Except for the head, no part of the body was intact. A hole the size of a bowl had been torn open near the base of the spine, and this gaping wound cut through the viscera and chest, spilling mangled innards across the floor. Similar holes punctured other parts of the body, though none as deep as the one at the back.

What was even more nauseating was that, perhaps because Fatty’s mother had been so overweight, the chunks of flesh on the ground oozed yellowish fat. The yellow grease mixed with red blood and viscera created a scene that would make anyone’s stomach revolt.

Fortunately, Liu Chang’s weakened state dulled his physical reactions, allowing him to suppress the urge to vomit.

He turned away from the grisly sight, letting his gaze fall on Fatty, whose face was twisted in grief and rage. Liu Chang knew that words of comfort would be useless now.

So he stepped back a couple of paces and leaned against the wall.

Exhaling slowly, Liu Chang’s legs gave out and he sank to the floor. But at that moment, no one noticed him. All eyes were fixed on the bloodier spectacle, and except for Fatty, everyone wore an expression of growing dread.

“What could have done this to her?” someone asked quietly from the crowd.

But there would be no answer. Perhaps only Fatty, who had been first on the scene, had glimpsed the assailant, but he wasn’t about to speak to anyone now.

Still, the question had an effect: as soon as it was voiced, everyone present—over twenty people—began to scan their surroundings warily.

But the darkness was too thick. By the faint candlelight, people could barely make out the shapes nearby—though perhaps that was a mercy, sparing others from joining the ranks of the vomiting.

Everyone watched their surroundings with anxious care, not wanting to be the next victim. The more prudent among them quietly gathered their families and slipped away, fearing the blood would attract even more horrors.

Tension thickened the air.

It seemed that no one would ever notice Liu Chang, curled silently in the corner.

He felt his temperature rising ever higher, his consciousness slipping away into a half-faint, half-waking state. He remained that way until late into the night, when someone finally discovered him—the bespectacled biology teacher.

Spotting Liu Chang slumped in the corner, the teacher reached out and touched his forehead.

“This must be over forty degrees!” Li Qingshui exclaimed.

He produced a thermometer from somewhere and placed it in Liu Chang’s mouth.

Five minutes later, Li Qingshui held the thermometer under the candlelight and examined it closely—the mercury had reached the limit: forty-two degrees.

“He’s not dead?” Thermometers rarely show temperatures above forty-two, because at that point, the human body usually suffers cardiac failure and dies.

But Liu Chang’s temperature had clearly soared far past that point.

“How is he?” Liu Chang vaguely heard another voice approach—it sounded like Liu Tao.

“I don’t know. By all rights, he should be dead, but he’s still hanging on,” Li Qingshui replied.

“Can he be saved?”

“If this keeps up, he’s doomed. His fever is caused by a bacterial infection in the wound. If the bacteria aren’t killed, even if he survives now, he’ll burn out soon.”

“So what do we do?”

“If we have antibiotics, there’s still a chance!”