Chapter 5: Hope
, Jinhua Yuan Residential Complex, Building 5, Room 301.
pressed his back against the security door. The sweat-soaked undershirt clung to his spine, cold and clammy.
Scratching and howling noises had persisted outside the door for over two hours. The metal door panel was covered in dense scratches, the deepest ones cutting through to the iron beneath.
He didn't dare think how much longer the door would hold.
"Jianguo, is there anything left to eat?"
's voice drifted out from the bedroom, kept low for fear the things outside might hear.
"Three packs of instant noodles and half a bag of cookies."
He answered, his throat dry.
"Ration them, and we can last two days."
He had worked at the Power Supply Bureau for twelve years, never imagining that one day he'd be using his own shoulder to brace his own front door in a fight for his life.
The first person in the building to go berserk that afternoon had been Old Man Zhang downstairs—he'd suddenly gone mad and bitten his wife, and then the whole building erupted into chaos.
He had pulled and their daughter into the house and locked the door, watching helplessly as their neighbor across the hall was tackled into the corridor by two blood-soaked things.
He'd tried dialing 110, 120, and the duty office at work. None of them went through.
The television and phone had first glitched, then gone completely dark.
Only this door remained between the things outside and his wife and child inside.
If the door gave way, he would send Juan'er and their daughter out first.
He would be last.
He refused to become a monster, absolutely not.
Just then, the old radio on the living room coffee table suddenly crackled.
froze, then dove for it.
It was an old relic his father had left behind, ran on dry cell batteries, not a single chip inside.
He'd only kept it around as an extra way to listen for news—never expected it to produce sound at a time like this.
He cranked the volume, and a broken voice squeezed out of the speaker:
"This is the ... ... issuing an urgent notice to all survivors..."
His hand shook, nearly dropping the radio.
When he heard the sentence about "the command headquarters is located at No. 73 ," he crouched down, buried his face in his knees, and his shoulders heaved.
walked out with their daughter, saw him like that, and froze in the bedroom doorway:
"Jianguo?"
lifted his head, face streaked with tears, but a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.
He held up the radio for :
"Juan'er, the government is still here. The broadcast said the emergency command headquarters is still operational—someone's looking after us."
took the radio and listened for a while. Tears fell, but she didn't sob aloud. She just hugged their daughter a little tighter.
The little girl looked up at her father, then at her mother, and reached out to wipe 's face:
"Mommy, don't cry. Is someone coming to save us?"
crouched down to meet his daughter's eyes, one hand on the back of her head:
"Yes. The uncles in uniform will come. We just have to hold on a little longer."
He stood up, walked to the window, and lifted the curtain a crack.
Outside, the city had gone completely dark. A few scattered fires flickered in the distance, like someone had burned holes in black paper.
He turned and pushed the living room sofa against the door, then dragged the wardrobe over to reinforce it.
For the first time in over two hours, he felt strength return to his hands.
---
, , second-floor warehouse.
leaned against the steel door, catching his breath, then wiped the sweat from his face.
The door boomed every few minutes as something outside slammed into it, but for now it was holding.
He counted twelve people in the warehouse, including himself.
Three were his own employees; the rest were all customers—two elderly people, and a pregnant woman with a belly so big he couldn't tell how many months along she was.