Chapter 12: Lost Contact

After a while, the tank crew climbed out of the vehicle, carrying the radio as they ran. Li Fengyi called everyone together; they quickly gathered a few rifles from the ground, picked up some ammunition pouches and grenades, and rushed into Yard No. 5, locking the iron gate behind them before heading home.

When they returned, Wang Shujuan had just finished cooking. The three tank soldiers, clad in the 2007-style tank training uniforms, devoured the meal and gulped down water. Everyone waited for them to finish eating before asking for news.

“Tank commander Li Qiang of Tank 5-3, gunner Wei Yong of Tank 5-3, and Liu Feng of Tank 5-3—thank you all,” the three soldiers stood up and saluted the group in turn.

“That's very kind of you. Thank you.” No one knew how to properly return a military salute, so they responded awkwardly and introduced themselves.

“How are things outside?” Li Fengyi inquired.

“It’s chaotic. When we set out, the whole world was in turmoil.” Li Qiang spoke without the fear civilians usually showed when facing zombies, only furrowing his brow. “We received orders from headquarters over the radio that all units entering the city yesterday were lost. Headquarters instructed the three of us to return on our own, but around dawn, we heard chaos erupting at headquarters too. There was heavy gunfire, then silence. Our base is in the Mentougou mountains. Many in the barracks were infected yesterday. It was hard to assemble a team to enter the city. The tank rolled over cars for more than thirty kilometers, but broke down on an uphill stretch under the bridge. We had no spare parts and couldn’t repair it.”

“How far can your radio communicate? Is it still operational?” Sun Xiaotian asked.

“The radio has a range of forty kilometers and requires the tank battery, twelve volts.”

Li Fengyi quickly found a twelve-volt transformer. Hardware development often required these, and he had several lying around the house. Sun Xiaotian and the commander examined the radio’s interface, stripped the transformer wires, identified the polarity, then opened the radio’s back panel to expose the terminals and connected everything. The radio powered up, emitting nothing but static; no voices came through.

The commander picked up the microphone: “Tank 5-3 calling, Tank 5-3 calling, please respond if you hear this, please respond.” He called repeatedly, but got no answer.

Li Fengyi glanced at the paper in Wang Shujuan’s hand. She reported, “Altogether, we have fifteen Type 95 rifles, twenty-one magazines, eight empty magazines, twenty-one grenades, eight military canteens, three pistols, seven pistol magazines, nine empty magazines, eight 2007-style military backpacks, and eight combat knives.”

When gathering the weapons, there was no time to be choosy; they took whatever was at hand, which left them with many empty magazines. Everything was listed in front of the soldiers to avoid confusion later; after all, China is a strictly gun-controlled country.

Li Fengyi turned to the commander, saying, “Comrade, what should we do next?”

The commander was young, about twenty-three or twenty-four. He looked at Li Fengyi and the others and replied, “You’ve done very well, even saved us. Why don’t you lead?”

He was diplomatic, recognizing Li Fengyi as the group’s de facto leader. In such a short time, he’d organized food and water, killed a few zombies, and rescued nearly everyone present. The commander didn’t want to disrupt the smoothly functioning order.

Li Fengyi insisted the commander take charge, but the commander declined, saying he was a tank soldier and unfamiliar with fighting zombies. He insisted Li Fengyi lead. Li Fengyi glanced at the gunner and driver.

They both chimed in, “Brother, you decide. We’ll follow your lead and lend a hand.”

Li Fengyi finally agreed, and Sun Xiaotian and the others breathed a sigh of relief. In such times, people prefer familiarity over strangers. Everyone here had been rescued by Li Fengyi and was used to his leadership, both at home and in the company.

Li Fengyi instructed everyone to contact those they’d reached yesterday. Only one person, who had fled the city overnight and hid halfway, responded; the others had lost contact. Those hiding at home replied, but everyone knew the rest were lost. A wave of gloom swept through the group.

They’d been busy all morning, hadn’t eaten, and the meal prepared earlier had been devoured by the three soldiers. After being surrounded by zombies and separated by the tank all night, their nerves had turned into ravenous hunger. It was a wonder they hadn’t broken down, a testament to their rigorous military training.

Wang Shujuan and Chu Zhen quickly cooked another meal. After eating, Li Fengyi arranged for the soldiers to teach everyone how to use the weapons, but strictly forbade live firing for fear of attracting zombie hordes.

Though most had never handled military weapons before, they quickly learned the basics. Their marksmanship was questionable, and conditions didn’t permit practice, but at least they could operate the guns.

“Women, take the pistols and protect the elderly and children,” Li Fengyi said, handing them two combat knives as well, urging them to keep them safe and out of the children’s reach.

He distributed rifles, grenades, combat knives, and ammunition to the men, gave two backpacks to the women for carrying food and supplies, and handed out the remaining backpacks to everyone.

Li Fengyi himself didn’t carry a backpack; he needed to oversee everything and preferred to stay unencumbered.

Their numbers had grown to eighteen—seven children, one elderly, and ten able-bodied adults. Li Fengyi knew that idle waiting bred discontent and made leadership difficult, a lesson he’d learned in years of building his company.

He discussed with the commander, acknowledging the value of expert advice but dismissing pseudo experts.

They decided, while awaiting rescue, to clear Yard No. 5 of zombies. Being cooped up indoors all day was no way to live, and it would give everyone something to do and perhaps help save more survivors.

They posted lookouts on the rooftop and began searching each apartment in Building 6 from the top floor down.

All the doors were security doors, tightly sealed. Inside, they could hear zombies growling in frustration, unable to get out, while outsiders couldn’t get in. Except for Apartment 605, where the landlord had rented it out and left half a window without a security mesh; every other household had their windows fortified, making entry impossible.

Lockpicking was a specialized skill, and security doors were armored down to the seams. Everyone stared at each other, unsure what to do.

Li Fengyi decided they should simply knock on every door; if there were survivors inside, they could open the door themselves.

Before long, they finished searching Building 6. There were survivors in two apartments on the second floor, one on the third, and one on the fifth—a total of seven people, four women and three men, with no children. At that hour, all the children were at school, and no parents who had gone to pick them up had returned.

Every household had someone missing—at work, picking up children, or out running errands.

The rest either remained silent or were already zombies. A thought flashed through Li Fengyi’s mind: every home was in mourning.