Hunger had become a relentless spectre, not only haunting the sanatorium’s survivors but also tormenting city dwellers across the region. Convenience stores and small supermarkets, once brimming with supplies, had been stripped bare, unable to sustain the desperate needs of survivor groups. In their quest for food, survivors ventured from their shelters, scavenging like rats in a ruined world. Clashes over meagre scraps had become commonplace, a grim testament to their plight. Beyond scarcity, spoilage had compounded the crisis—vegetables and meats, even those untouched, rotted in markets and stores. At best, survivors found meat frozen solid in cold storage, useless without means to thaw or cook it. Instant noodles, canned goods, biscuits, and chocolate—foods with long shelf lives— become prized treasures, hoarded like gold. Hunger emerged as the third great enemy, rivalling the undead hordes and mutated beasts in its threat to survival. We’re fighting on too many fronts, Chen Liu thought, the weight of the crisis pressing heavily on him. Compounding the despair, cities had begun to lose water and power, their systems crumbling without maintenance. The once-proud urban centres had become steel cages that tested the resolve of those trapped within.
Amid the encroaching darkness, hope flickered in the form of base cities—havens cleared by military forces, rumoured to offer a semblance of pre-apocalypse order. If the rumours are true, they’re our best chance, Chen Liu mused, yearning for stability. Online whispers spoken of plans for regional mega base cities, built around strategic resource hubs, dwarfing even provincial-level bases. In the central region, Jiangcheng, the capital of Jingchu Province, had been chosen as the site for such a mega base. Luckily, before Chen Liu could lead his group to such a sanctuary, a glimmer of opportunity arose closer to home. Fatty Zhang, the sanatorium’s cook, shared vital information: Zhaojia Village, five li away, supplied the sanatorium with ducks, chickens, vegetables, and pigs before the apocalypse. There might be food there, Chen Liu thought, seizing the chance to address their immediate needs. With preparations for departure incomplete, he resolved to lead a team to the village himself. “Yu Na, the cafeteria is in your hands,” he instructed, entrusting the six female fighters to guard the base. He chose Zhang Chong, Yu Dachao, Li Dong, and Zheng Kuncheng to accompany him—a formidable squad for the mission.
Zhang Chong raised an eyebrow, his confidence as a Six-Star Awakened evident. “Captain, no need for such a big team. I know Zhaojia Village—mostly elderly and kids, maybe 200 people total. I could clear it with one squad in a day.” His brimmed with bravado. But Chen Liu shot him a sharp look. “Think, Zhang. This is the countryside. Besides zombie hordes, every household has chickens, ducks, pigs, maybe cattle. You sure one squad’s enough?” He’s eager but reckless, Chen Liu observed, noting Zhang Chong’s embarrassment as his bravado faltered. The spectre of mutated beasts silenced him, humbling his confidence. Yu Na stepped in, her voice steady. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ve got the cafeteria covered.” Chen Liu acknowledged her with a solemn nod. “Get ready. We move out now!” The team responded with a unified “Yes, sir!”
The five roared toward Zhaojia Village in a truck, Zhang Chong at the wheel. He was the most familiar with the route. Chen Liu sat in the passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the apocalyptic landscape. Far from bleak, it pulsed with unnatural vitality. The catastrophe struck during spring sowing, and in its wake, rice fields had been overtaken by rampant wild grass, transforming cultivated land into sprawling pastures in mere weeks. Nature is reclaiming everything. It was as though a strange melancholy had settled over the fields. Amid the grassy expanses, canola fields bloomed into seas of golden blossoms, their vibrancy a stark contrast to the apocalypse’s dreariness. Zhang Chong muttered, “We’re not even living as well as a blade of grass.” He felt it too, the fall of humanity from its height of aloofness. A distant Moo interrupted the soft funeral for humanity. The truck’s rumble startled a mutated ox grazing in the fields. Its massive frame, sleek black fur, blade-like horns, and crimson eyes marked it as a creature no longer bound by domestication. The speed of nature’s rebellion reminded all of humankind’s fragile dominion.
As they neared Zhaojia Village, Chen Liu ordered, “Stop at the entrance.” The truck’s engine could attract a horde, and stealth was their ally. The five disembarked, checked their gear, and moved into combat formation, creeping into the village with practiced caution. A guttural Groaaah!! greeted them as two Six-Star zombies lunged from the sows. No need for words—just kill, Chen Liu thought, leading the charge. With their combined strength, Six-Star zombies posed little threat, and even Seven-Star ones would have been manageable. “We’ll sweep the village in grid formation,” Chen Liu directed, his voice calm but authoritative. The team responded eagerly, knowing that each zombie felled meant crystals—valuable currency rumored to be exchangeable for supplies at Liao City Base. Yu Dachao and Zheng Kuncheng fought with particular ferocity, their strikes fueled by a desperate hope to Awaken. They’re chasing power, like I did, Chen Liu observed, understanding their drive to escape the vulnerability of being un-Awakened. Awakening remained a mystery, with no sure path—some died, others emerged unchanged, leaving luck as the only constant. Our knowledge is too limited, Chen Liu thought, aware that even bloodline inheritance revealed its secrets only at higher tiers, still out of reach.
thINKer: Would humanity be better off at the middle of the food chain? I’d argue that it would.