Chapter 78: Battle with the Mutant Beast (2)

“There are wreckages of crashed planes all over the place—helicopters, transport aircraft, you name it,” Li Fengyi said, shaking his head with little optimism. “Evacuation plans were either by road or by air, but ground traffic was hopelessly jammed, and in just a few days mutated birds started appearing in the skies...”

“What about underground?” Sun Xiaoshan interjected.

All three of them suddenly brightened.

The subway system in Beijing had, from its inception, been a national defense project. Construction on the first phase of Line 1 began on July 1, 1965, with the route running along Chang’an Avenue and skirting the southern edge of the old city walls, stretching from the garrison at the Western Hills through the city to Beijing Railway Station, and built using the open-cut and cover method. The line, with its seventeen stations and a depot at Gucheng, was completed and opened to traffic on October 1, 1969. It was estimated that, in wartime, the Beijing subway could transport five reorganized army divisions per day from the Western Hills into the city center. Because the subway was a strategic defense project, it remained closed to the public for a long time after completion, accessible only by special introduction. On January 15, 1971, the section from Gongzhufen to Beijing Railway Station began trial operations, then extended to Yuquan Road on August 5, to Gucheng Road on November 7, and finally to Pingguoyuan on April 23, 1973, as the second phase began, running from Jianguomen to Fuxingmen along the inner city wall in an inverted U-shape, with twelve stations and the Taipinghu depot. The line length was substantial. On September 15, 1981, the Beijing subway officially opened to the public.

The Special Committee hastily convened its first meeting at the Beijing Hotel. The Propaganda Department broadcasted news of the meeting worldwide, though the specific details and location were withheld; only after review would selective reports be released. The survivors at every base waited anxiously by their radios, nerves taut as if scratched by a restless cat. For now, listening to the Committee’s broadcast had become something of an obsession—almost like following celebrities. With nearly all other forms of entertainment gone, the vivid, dramatic radio programs had become the only source of enjoyment, not to mention the “Post-Apocalyptic Heroes List,” which had given many people renewed hope.

The situation underground was exceedingly complex. China’s subways had always been crowded with people, and though the tunnels were spacious and enclosed, it was almost impossible for ordinary survivors to remain there. The Committee’s immediate concern was whether Line 1 had any news from the Central Authority.

To prevent disturbances from mutated subterranean creatures, all sewer and subway entrances had been sealed off, and the entire city was on high alert. Now, as the city began its clearance operations, these blind spots and dead zones were finally receiving attention.

True to his principle of never letting anyone idle, Li Fengyi’s first order was for the field army to mobilize, sweeping back and forth along the outer defensive perimeter of Beijing before the meeting could begin.

“We need to form an underground operations unit within the garrison,” Li Qiang outlined his plan. “First, search the subway lines, then, depending on the situation, clear the sewer system as well.”

“We’ve finished prototypes for the weapon operation limiters,” Sun Xiaoshan reported on his work. “We’ve completed several for the most common weapons. Additionally, inspired by suppressors, we’ve started modifying firearms for reduced noise, and it works well. Silencing artillery is much more challenging; theoretically possible, but the devices are huge and haven’t been integrated yet, requiring lengthy installation and a dedicated testing site.”

He requested that Beijing’s weapon design experts be assigned to him. “Most people here have never worked with actual weapons and equipment, so I need the designers sent to me.”

Ma Huaibo from the Ministry of Civil Affairs noted his request and arranged it immediately. In wartime, efficiency was everything. “You’ll see them reporting to you as soon as you get back,” he promised.

“Any new equipment for underground combat?” Li Qiang asked eagerly. He had an inexplicable confidence in chainmail and broadswords, and looked at Sun Xiaoshan with hopeful eyes. “If the gear is safe and effective, we’ll be more at ease using it.”

Sun Xiaoshan fell silent.

Minister Liu cautiously chimed in, “Before the apocalypse, research departments had developed detection robots for narrow pipelines. We could send them in to scout ahead. The military also worked on digital soldier equipment, which could be tested as well.”

Decisions were made quickly, and tunnel robots were urgently requisitioned and placed on standby.

“Are there any satellites we can still use?” Li Fengyi asked. If satellites were operational, they could have a global overview, making strategic decisions far easier.

Minister Liu had come prepared. He opened his Lenovo laptop and connected it to the projector, then played a video. It was clear the footage came from a satellite camera, showing a view of the Earth.

Everyone watched intently. The video displayed scenes from May 29, 2015—the deep blue planet spinning in space, their beautiful home. Then, a camera aimed into the void showed a swarm of meteors approaching rapidly, breaking apart as they neared. The tension in the room was palpable. Minister Liu fast-forwarded to May 30, showing countless tiny objects pelting the camera, growing ever denser, until the image abruptly vanished.

He played similar footage from other satellites, all with the same result.

“All the satellites we can monitor are like this,” Minister Liu said as he opened a document. “At the Beijing Aerospace Control Center, we brought in experts to attempt communication with every kind of spacecraft in orbit, but all contact was lost. Using astronomical telescopes to observe the sky, we determined there are no more satellites overhead. We believe this is the case worldwide.”

A heavy silence settled over the conference room.

“What about missiles and nuclear weapons?” Li Fengyi finally asked—the issue he was most concerned about. The destructive power of nuclear weapons needed no explanation.

“The sky is no longer ours,” Minister Liu replied, replaying part of the earlier video and zooming in on a section that showed flashes of light shooting skyward, then quickly transforming into a burst of fire and vanishing. “Satellite image analysts have confirmed these were missiles launched by various countries, attempting to destroy the larger meteors. But before they could reach their targets, they were struck down by the smaller fragments.” He opened another document. “Survivors have given many reports: they’ve seen planes in the sky brought down by flocks of birds and swarms of flying insects.”

“As for nuclear weapons,” he continued, opening another file, “I inquired with survivors at the Navy and Army Command near Fuxingmen. Although the top brass evacuated, leaving only a skeleton crew, they said nuclear weapons are under strict control. Without the launch codes, they cannot be fired, and those codes are tightly guarded by every country. Just being at a nuclear base isn’t enough to launch them.”