Chapter 18: Clearing the Youth Ditch Road (2)

The team was split into groups: Sun Xiaoshan took six people to collect drinking water and food, while Li Fengyi led seven to gather tools and rescue survivors.

Sun Xiaoshan led his group straight to the grain and oil food shop. Meanwhile, Li Fengyi split his people into two squads—he took three, and Li Qiang took four—and began their operation.

“This street mainly serves the local residents,” Li Fengyi mused aloud. “There are convenience stores, appliance repair shops, cell phone shops, renovation stores, print shops, food shops, supermarkets, small kiosks, oh, and two hair-washing parlors and a barber.”

The men chuckled knowingly, their thoughts drifting to the suggestive scenes inside those parlors.

“Let’s check out the renovation shop and the appliance repair shop first,” Li Qiang suggested.

The man with the steel tripod walked in front, followed by the steel-pipe-wielding men, who moved along and took swings at the zombies wedged between car doors as if they were playing baseball.

At the entrance of the renovation shop, they could see zombies shuffling in circles inside. As their footsteps sounded, the creatures slowly turned their heads, nostrils flaring, the distance for their sense of smell greatly shortened by the glass door.

It wasn’t until the man with the steel bar was five or six meters from the door that the zombies locked onto their location and crashed through the glass, lunging at them. There were four steps at the entrance; the zombies moved too fast and tumbled down, one landing headfirst and getting its skull stomped by someone in shiny leather shoes. Its limbs flailed wildly, fingers scraping till they bled, but it couldn’t get up—only left streaks of black blood on the concrete.

“Disgusting as hell!” Tian Ming said, swinging his steel pipe down. “One down! Ten points!”

“Not bad, you can respawn here at full health,” Li Fengyi nodded approvingly.

There was a back door in the renovation shop that led to the residential complex. They shut it and moved a few heavy pieces of furniture to barricade it.

Li Qiang pointed at the tools. “Carry out the electric grinder...”

He hesitated. “But there’s no power. What’s the use?”

“Take the manual tools for now. Once we find a generator, we’ll see,” Li Fengyi replied helplessly. Modern tools are advanced, but everything depends on electricity—power is the foundation of industry.

They gathered long-handled bolt cutters, sledgehammers, and packed several toolboxes.

Li Qiang spotted the welding torch. “This is great! With the right materials, we could fix up a tank!”

The tank enthusiast of the group immediately started fantasizing. “A fleet of tanks, charging ahead—no number of zombies could stop us.”

A soft creak came from the restroom door. Everyone’s ears perked up, gripping their steel bars and pipes tightly, looking toward the source of the sound.

The young man in black, closest to the door, slowly raised his steel pipe, arms pulled back to thrust—the room wasn’t tall enough to swing down.

“Wait, wait!” A man in work clothes called out hurriedly. “I’m human! Don’t attack, please!”

“Say something only a person would say,” the young man in black, still wary, eyed his head for confirmation.

“It’s me, I swear. I’m really human,” the man pleaded.

He turned out to be the owner of the repair shop—these small business owners were often the technicians themselves, running the shop with relatives or a few apprentices.

He pulled two young men and two children from the restroom. “These are my staff. That day, my wife had an episode, Huzi got caught and eaten, and we’ve been hiding in here for days. My wife’s been wandering around the shop; we didn’t dare go out. We’ve survived on cold water.”

Li Fengyi told Tian Ming, “Go get some fruit.” Then addressed the shop owner, “You know the situation now? We’re all survivors. We need to borrow your tools to make some weapons for protection.”

The owner readily agreed. “Take everything you need. I’ll work with you, just give me a bit more food? I have two kids—I’ll work harder.”

“It’s fine, let the kids stay with logistics,” Li Fengyi said, looking at the children barely waist-high, clinging to their father’s side, nervous and hungry.

“I had them outside the quota,” the owner chattered. “When my second was born, I paid a fine in the village and got him registered.”

“No worries, I don’t judge,” Li Fengyi smiled. “I have two kids too.”

The two fathers, both with more children than allowed, shook hands warmly, admiring each other’s prowess as men.

“Show-offs,” Li Qiang, the regular army man, muttered.

Tian Ming returned with a half-crate of assorted fruit: apples, bananas, peaches.

The five survivors devoured the fruit ravenously, making noisy slurping sounds; obviously, hunger had pushed them to desperation. Juice dripped down their chins, which they wiped away with their sleeves before continuing to eat.

“Stop,” Li Qiang, more experienced than the civilians, intervened. “You’ve been hungry too long. Eat too much and you’ll hurt yourselves.”

Reluctantly, the group eyed the remaining fruit, slipping a few pieces into their pockets.

The owner pointed out which manual tools to take, visibly excited at the mention of tank repair. “Hey, I thought I’d spend my life making doors and windows, but now I’m a bona fide worker in the military arms industry!”

He beamed as he dragged out a metal box from under the shelf. Opening it, he revealed a handgun.

His two assistants were thrilled as well—making a gun was thrilling, but they’d also lived in fear. Mechanics often loved to tinker and make things, and with the nation’s strict ban on guns, the challenge only made it more appealing.

There were plenty of suitable tools and materials in the shop, but moving everything was unrealistic. Li Fengyi and Li Qiang discussed it and decided to take only the tools and materials necessary for daily life, leaving the rest to turn the place into a workshop.

“If we block the north end of Hepingli Street, there’ll be no more zombie hordes here. We can move about freely,” Li Fengyi laid out the next steps to Li Qiang. “There’ll be more and more survivors. Courtyard Five is small but safe—we’ll use it as our base.”

“You,” Li Fengyi pointed to the youngest assistant, “look after the kids. The rest, come with me.”

Sun Xiaoshan’s group took less than two hours to gather bottled water and food; they stacked everything together, ready for each person to carry some on the way back.

“We’re ready here. Everyone can take some back,” Sun Xiaoshan reported to Li Fengyi.

His six men, bored, passed the time bashing zombies wedged in car doors, the sound of pipes striking skulls sharp in the air.

“Alright. Li Qiang, clear the south side of the street; you guys take the north,” Li Fengyi instructed. Then, after a moment’s thought, added, “Tian Ming, come over. You too,” he said, nodding to the young man in black, who was eager and cooperative.

“My name’s Wu Tianxiong,” the young man introduced himself, “from Building 2, a gold-level stir-fry chef.”

“You two, follow me,” Li Fengyi nodded. “And this little guy—bring the kids too. Everyone, bring the rescued survivors here, let them eat, and I’ll train them before assigning them to you.”