“Pack up equipment, prepare to break out.” Zhou Rong stood up and walked nearby. Nearly 1.9 meters tall, wearing an all-black protective suit, his face indiscernible against the backlight, only his low and stern voice audible. A team member suddenly stood up: “Rong Ge! Where are you going?!”
Zhou Rong found an Audi sports car with half its body riddled with bullet holes, smashing the front window with one punch and finding a spare key from the glove compartment.
“I’ll draw the zombies in front to the back door. After breaking out, head southeast towards the shelter 30 kilometers in the city center.”
He started the car and released the handbrake, the sports car roaring to life: “Once I break free, I’ll meet up with you. If I haven’t returned before you arrive, the captain’s responsibility will be assumed by Yan Hao, and send a positioning signal to the base.”
“Captain!” Yan Hao roared, several team members standing up in disbelief: “No, Rong Ge!” “Stop!”
Zhou Rong poked his head out the window, narrowing his eyes: “Hm?”
When Zhou Rong wasn’t smiling, his features created a cold and domineering aura that was intimidating, with every angle of his eyebrows and slightly compressed pupils silently declaring “this person is tough.”
Years of intimidation made the team members reflexively choke. Just as Yan Hao lost control and stepped forward to say something, Zhou Rong extended a finger, an irresistible command that stopped him in his tracks.
Then Zhou Rong smiled – when he smiled, that aggressive aura disappeared, and instead showed a charming roguishness.
“You’re being girly,” he swept his gaze across his team members’ faces, laughing. “Wait for Rong-ge at the shelter.”
The team members gripped their assault rifles, looking at each other with despair in their eyes.
The sports car reversed with its lights on, crushing corpses and sliding into a neat U-turn.
“Wait… wait, Captain!”
Yan Hao stared out the window, suddenly seeing something, disbelieving: “Someone… someone’s here!”
At the parking lot entrance, countless zombies mechanically pounded the gate. On the road behind them, a silver Camry suddenly stopped, then reversed, rolling down its window.
The young man surveyed the eight-story building, every window shattered and splattered with blood, revealing nothing inside. Only a second-floor window facing the road showed someone prone, perhaps a panicked civilian who had fled inside during the outbreak.
