Chapter 75: Danger

"Since we left the city, we’ve encountered at least seven or eight major hordes. When that military jet went down earlier, I saw it clearly—its markings belonged to the East Sea Fleet’s First Aviation Corps."

"And?" Mitch felt like he was catching onto a thread.

"The East Sea Fleet’s main base is out on the ocean. Logically, when a zombie virus outbreak hits the mainland, the military’s immediate response should be a nuclear wipe to flatten the infected zones. Even if they held off on nukes, they should have used napalm to clear the main transit routes."

Ray tapped his fingers rhythmically against the rifle barrel.

"Yet along our entire journey, let alone napalm, we haven’t seen a single bomber. That fighter jet was shot down by a high-tier monster, not crashed due to mechanical failure."

Mitch narrowed his eyes. "Ray... are you saying the people at the offshore base are deliberately turning a blind eye?"

"It’s hard to say. They might be ignoring it, or maybe something else is at play," Ray sneered coldly.

"I even suspect they are intentionally driving these infected toward the inland. Think about it—a nuclear strike destroys everything. But if they let the infected spread, the number of mutant variants increases exponentially. What are they researching out there? Or rather... what are they screening for?"

Mitch sucked in a breath of cold air, cursing fiercely. "Fuck those bureaucrats! Have their brains been eaten by zombies? Treating survivors like lab rats?!"

"We don’t know the full truth yet," Ray murmured, turning quiet.

Crouching down, Mitch jammed his heavy machete into the snowdrift. "So what do we do now? Just sit here and freeze our asses off?"

"We wait."

Ray raised his head sharply, his narrow eyes locking onto the dark horizon.

A rift opened in the dense cloud cover, and through the hazy, yellow light, a small black dot broke through the blizzard, soaring toward the east. The deep thrum of its engines echoed faintly through the wind.

"An aircraft," Ray grunted through gritted teeth.

Mitch spotted it too. He rubbed his numb hands together, blowing warm breath into his palms. "It really is a damn plane. Looks like a transport. Flying that low in a blizzard—aren’t they afraid of slamming into a mountain?"

Ray stood up, brushing the frost off his knees, his eyes fixed on the aircraft’s fading vapor trail. "It’s heading toward the offshore base. They’re transporting supplies back... or people."

"When the hell are we going to get there?" Mitch couldn’t help cursing again. "Shivering out here in this hellhole... I’m about to turn into a popsicle. Once we hit that offshore base, do we finally get a hot shower and some decent food and drinks?"

Ray didn’t reply.

May’s flushed little face flashed through his mind, along with the memory of her trembling inside her sleeping bag. In a wasteland like this, merely staying alive was a struggle; expecting hot showers was a luxury.

"Soon," Ray retracted his gaze, a dark resolve settling in his eyes. "Once dawn breaks and the snow stops, we move out. No matter what gets in our way, we cut a path through."

By the next morning, the blizzard had finally ceased.

On the sports field of Mistfall Town No. 3 Middle School, the accumulated snow reached past everyone’s ankles.

Ray kicked open the rusted iron doors of the school building, leading the group outside. "Search the perimeter for usable vehicle parts. We have to leave this godforsaken place today."

Carrying a heavy burlap sack over his shoulder, Jack was headed toward the bicycle shed behind the school when his steps came to a sudden halt.

"Ray, look over there!"

Everyone followed the direction of his pointing finger.

Across the field, beneath the flagpole, a tiny figure was crouching in the snow.

It was a young boy who looked twelve at most, wearing a faded, oversized school uniform. His pant legs were far too short, exposing his purple, frostbitten ankles. In his arms, he clutched a tattered stuffed doll missing an eye, its black stuffing spilling out.

Curled into a tight ball, the boy trembled violently in the bitter wind. His small face was deathly pale, his lips lacked any color, and his large eyes were filled with sheer terror and helplessness.

"Holy mother of God... how is there a living kid out here?" Jack was the first to cry out, his towering frame making the child look even smaller and more pitiable by comparison. Without a second thought, he made a move to head over. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

"Hold it right there," Ray clamped a heavy hand onto his shoulder.

Ray’s eyes locked onto the boy, his brow furrowed deeply. His hand rested on the hilt of the pistol at his hip, though he didn’t draw it immediately.

Mitch spat onto the snow, his voice laced with annoyance. "Who knows if that’s a human or a monster? Stay back."

Leaning against a chin-up bar with his hands in his pockets, Alex let out a curious whistle. "In times like these, the most helpless-looking things are often the most lethal."

Just then, the boy seemed to notice them. A faint glimmer of hope flickered in his frightened eyes.

Clutching his rag doll, he stumbled up from the snow and scrambled toward them, weeping softly as he ran.

"Save me... Please, mister... save me..."

The boy’s voice sounded thin and fragile, laced with tears like an abandoned kitten.

Jack’s heart melted instantly. Shaking off Ray’s warning hand, he strode forward eagerly: "Don’t be scared, kid! Uncle is right here!"

Halfway through his run, the boy slipped on the ice and tumbled hard into a snowdrift. He didn’t climb up immediately, but lay face down in the snow, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed uncontrollably—a pitiful sight that could break anyone’s heart.

"I’m going to pick him up!" Jack couldn’t contain himself any longer.

Just as his large hand was about to touch the boy, a sharp, deafening alarm suddenly exploded inside May’s mind.

[WARNING! WARNING! High-tier intelligent infected detected: "Skinwalker Demon"!] [Species Analysis: Advanced Evolution Variant.] [Disguise Level: 98.7%] [Threat Assessment: EXTREMELY DANGEROUS! Entity is currently dispersing high-concentration predatory pheromones, locking onto the strongest male target present in an attempt to execute parasitic predation!]

The blood in May’s veins ran instantly cold.