Chapter 9: Setting Up Sentry Posts
bent down to pick up the wrench that had fallen on the concrete floor, his knuckles white.
His pant legs were still stained with oil from the basement, and diesel fuel was smeared across his face, but he didn’t notice.
In fifty-two years, he had never seen such a scene.
No sirens, no engine sounds—over twenty fully armed soldiers had appeared silently in front of the building, as if they had been stationed there all along.
When he was discharged from the engineer corps, he thought the biggest deal in his life would be the two flood rescue operations. But those were a world in chaos—radios blaring, vehicles running, helicopters circling overhead—nothing like this silent formation before him.
That afternoon he had been muttering to , saying that with just a few guns and a few people, they couldn’t hold this building.
Once the diesel ran out and the food was gone, they’d be trapped and die sooner or later.
He had even secretly hidden two coils of steel cable in the tool room, thinking that if worst came to worst, he could slide down from the rooftop to escape.
Now he raised a hand and rubbed his face, smearing the diesel and dust even more across his hand.
His eyes felt a little hot; he blinked hard twice and muttered:
“The country hasn’t forgotten us.” His voice was hoarse.
glanced over, walked over, and patted him on the shoulder:
“Master Zhang, I need to ask you for something. The main force will move out tomorrow, and the base must have adequate support. The underground diesel generator must run twenty-four hours straight—you’ll watch it in shifts. Also, inspect the backup power vehicle in the underground garage; after we take the , we’ll need to haul a large amount of supplies back.”
straightened his back:
“No problem! I’ll watch the generator—guarantee it won’t stall for a single second. The power vehicle was serviced just last month, plenty of diesel, tires and circuits all fine—it’ll definitely work!”
He grabbed the wrench and turned to run down to the basement, his steps much lighter than when he had come up.
As he passed a corner on the stairs, he nearly collided with a soldier carrying supplies. He quickly stepped aside to apologize. The soldier simply came to attention and nodded, making him feel even more reassured.
On the square, the reorganization work continued.
The three squad leaders— , , and —stood in front of the formation, checking personnel and equipment status one by one.
stood on the steps and opened the system interface.
Combat personnel under command: three squads, 27 regular mobilized soldiers.
Platoon-level formation unlock progress: 127.6/140, 12.4 remaining.
He called up the map of the .
Within the five-kilometer detection range, the compound contained over one hundred twenty red heat sources, concentrated in the office building, armory, and dormitory. Movement speeds were slow. No mutants detected for now.
“ .”
“Here!”
Second stepped forward.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the sharpness of a scout in his eyes.
“Your squad will take night watch duty. Three fixed sentry posts: the rooftop vantage point, the main gate defense line, and the underground garage entrance. Rotate every two hours. Mobile patrols along the perimeter. Report any anomalies immediately.”
“Yes, sir!”
“ .”
“Here!”
Third was lean and quick in his movements.
“Third Squad will be responsible for reinforcing the outer defenses overnight. Set up barricades and early warning devices at the two entrances on and . Build up wall fortifications and reserve firing ports. Must be completed before dawn.”
“Yes, sir!”
“ , First Squad will handle mobile patrols, circling the building perimeter.”
“Yes, sir!”
Night fell over like cotton wool soaked in ink, pressing down heavily.
But the square in front of the building was brightly lit, as Third Squad’s soldiers worked through the night following standard field fortification procedures.
crouched behind the shelter at the entrance, using chalk to draw several lines on the concrete, marking the outline of the fortification and the firing arc.
The nine soldiers split into three groups: one group carried abandoned car wrecks from the roadside to stack into outer barricades; one group used broken concrete blocks to build chest-high firing positions; one group laid a gravel strip fifty meters in front of the positions.
“ , the east side entrance is set up.” A soldier jogged back.
“Add another layer of empty can tripwires, thirty centimeters off the ground. The zombies’ knees will set them off.” didn’t look up.
“Add two transverse vehicle-stop posts at the west alley mouth to prevent mutants from ramming through.”
“Yes, sir.”
In less than three hours, the two circular defense lines began to take shape.
In the generator room on the first basement level, was inspecting the equipment.
The diesel engine was running smoothly; the tachometer, oil temperature, and oil pressure needles were all within the normal range.
He gripped the dipstick and double-checked the diesel reserves. A full tank could last twenty-four hours, and there were three spare drums in the underground storeroom—enough for a week without issue.
The power vehicle’s battery, starter motor, and output lines were all fine.
He wiped the oil and grime from his face and patted the cold casing of the generator.
When he was young, he had guarded a machine room for three years in the engineer corps. He never thought he’d be back at the same trade in the apocalypse.
From upstairs came the sound of military boots on the floor—muffled and rhythmic.
He grinned, then quickly pressed his lips together, crouching down to continue watching the oil gauge.