There was trouble at the sanatorium. Two days ago, Fatty Zhang, the kitchen manager, reported that two mutated pigs had attacked, tearing through the vegetable garden and devouring cabbages with ruthless hunger. Our only greens. Chen Liu’s brow furrowed with frustration. After conferring with Li Dong, he rallied a team to hunt the beasts. No meat, no strength. He was motivated by the need to restock their dwindling meat supply.
Recon revealed the pigs were five-star beasts, towering near man-height with vicious tusks. A direct hit from their tusks meant certain death. He planned a stealth strike, taking Fang Ruoming, Zhang Chong, and Yu Dachao to a high vantage point above the garden. Li Dong’s team was to ambushed from the opposite side.
“Shit,” Chen Liu muttered, peering through binoculars. Three pigs now, not two. This changes everything. His stomach knotted with unease. “Captain, fall back?” Yu Dachao asked, his voice shaky.
Chen Liu shook his head. “No retreat. They’ll ruin the garden if we don’t act now.” Mutated pigs consume things like a black hole, he thought, recalling the barren forest behind the sanatorium. The artificial plantation lacked biodiversity. They came back to feed, he realised. “Li Dong, throw stones from both sides to split them,” he said into the walkie-talkie.
“Got it!” Li Dong replied.
Chen Liu hurled a stone, striking a boar mid-feast. Rrrahh—it roared, its flashing red eyes locking onto him. Dust billowed as it charged. “Damn, it’s a beast!” Yu Dachao yelped. Only one boar veered toward Li Dong’s team; two barreled at Chen Liu’s. They’re working together. He was alarmed.
He grabbed a steel rod, sharpened for javelin throws. Extra skills save lives, he thought, his grip tightening. “Zhang Chong, Yu, stay back. Fang, with me,” he ordered. Fang, axe in one hand, square shield in the other, stepped up. He was now a proper warrior.
Chen Liu eyed the lead boar, three meters away—his ideal range. One shot, he thought, activating his battle instinct. His senses sharpened as time slowed. Planting his foot, he twisted, channeling power through his body, and hurled the rod. Whoosh—it pierced the boar’s neck, sinking deep. Rrrahh—it shrieked but charged on, cabbage leaves dangling from its tusks. Chen Liu dove, rolling away. Too close, he thought while his heart pounded.
The second boar followed. Fang banged his axe on his shield, drawing its charge. Bam—the impact cracked the riot shield in half, causing Fang to cough up blood. His face contorted with pain, but he held firm. Chen Liu, back on his feet, threw another rod—thunk—hitting the boar. “Watch out!” he shouted, hurling a third. Bleed it out, he thought, his eyes fierce with focus. A wounded beast was deadlier.
Zhang Chong and Yu Dachao lured the first boar, dodging through rough terrain. There was certain hope, which morphed into confidence. After an hour of brutal effort, the two boars fell. There were no casualties. Li Dong’s team finished their pig. “Guns would’ve made this easier,” Zhang Chong grumbled, his face bitter with exhaustion.
“Quit whining. We’re feasting tonight,” Chen Liu said, a tired grin breaking through. We earned this, he thought, his eyes warm with satisfaction. Each boar weighed over 300 jin—enough meat for all.
Dragging the pigs back sparked cheers. Chen Liu announced, “Half a boar tonight. Extra rations for everyone!” Faces lit up, eyes gleaming with rare joy. Two weeks without meat changes you, Chen Liu found himself reflecting on their dire situation again. Pre-apocalypse, some shunned meat; now, everyone craved it.
Li Dong stayed silent, his face neutral but accepting. He’s stepping back, Chen Liu thought, his eyes narrowing with realization. His leadership—honed from running a tech company—had quietly overtaken Li Dong’s. No schemes, just results, he thought, a spark of pride in his chest. His fear of death drove him to unite, not divide.
That night, the sanatorium feasted on boar and wine, laughter drowning out the apocalypse’s shadow. They should have known that the apocalypse wanted their undivided attention. Very soon, it sent them a little gift.
Graaahhh—a shriek pierced the night from a rooftop. A seven-star zombie howled at the moon, summoning the undead toward the building. They were about to become a feast for the undead.
thINKer: I knew this was going too well.