Chapter 18: The Terrifying Roar
First People's Hospital, Inpatient Building, Fifth Floor.
Chen Li was busy changing the dressing on Grandpa Li’s shoulder wound.
Just as the tweezers holding an iodine-soaked cotton ball wiped across the red, swollen flesh, a dull sound suddenly rolled in from far away—muffled, like thunder trapped under thick clouds, with only the deep bass notes reaching her.
Her hand paused as she listened.
Xiao Wang stood beside her, holding a dressing tray. He was trembling.
“Sister Chen… what’s that sound? Is it an explosion?”
“No.” Chen Li set down the tweezers and walked to the window, pressing her forehead to the cold glass.
To the south, the rumbling came and went. Between the heavier crashes, there were denser, sharper sounds—steady, with a rhythm.
Gunfire.
Coordinated firepower.
She’d worked at the hospital for sixteen years. She’d heard live-fire drills during three military-police exercises. The sound of rifle shots wasn’t the same as the sustained roar of heavy machine guns.
In the ward, people gradually heard it too.
A few lightly wounded patients who could manage it propped themselves against the wall and moved toward the window, staring outside in disbelief.
The three-year-old boy, held in his mother’s arms, stared out with wide, round eyes. His small hands gripped her clothing, refusing to let go.
“Is it the army…? Did the People’s Liberation Army come?” someone asked, voice shaking.
Chen Li gripped the window railing until her knuckles went white.
She wanted rescue more than anyone, but she also knew—better than anyone—that there were at least a thousand zombies in the inpatient building alone.
The lobby on the first floor. The stairwells. Every hallway—packed with them. A few guns wouldn’t be enough to force their way in.
But the density of the gunfire—especially that heavy firepower—wasn’t something ordinary police could produce.
“Everyone, stay calm.” Chen Li turned around.
“The gunfire is to the south. It’s still some distance away. Whether it’s rescue or not, we can’t panic now. Xiao Wang, check the door barricade. Doctor Zhang, take stock of the remaining medicine and water.”
In desperate situations, people fear most the lack of hope.
Even the distant sound of gunfire changed the entire ward’s atmosphere.
Someone reinforced the hospital bed behind the door. Others began organizing the remaining supplies. Even Grandpa Li—who’d been groggy—opened his eyes and looked toward the window.
Chen Li walked to a corner by the door.
Professor Zhou sat there, gray-haired, admitted for pneumonia. When the virus broke out, he’d just finished an IV. Using his familiarity with the inpatient building’s layout, he’d managed to hide.
Earlier, he’d mentioned a vintage semiconductor radio in Room 301 on the fourth floor.
Then, suddenly, several zombies slammed into the ICU door.
A dull thud.
The hospital beds and cabinets were stacked tightly, so they couldn’t break through right away—but everyone immediately held their breath. Chen Li’s palms were slick with sweat.
After a moment, there was no more sound from outside the door.
Chen Li let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
She took out the radio, wiped off the dust, inserted batteries, and turned it on.
“Zzz—zzz—” Static crackled. In an instant, everyone gathered around.
Chen Li slowly rotated the tuning knob.
After half a turn, a steady, powerful male voice cut through the noise. Static still flickered, but every word was clear:
“…Attention all survivors! The military is currently launching an attack on the First People’s Hospital. The area is dangerous. Please stay in place and do not go outside. Set up visible markers where you can. Our fire support and search teams will use the markers to distinguish friendlies from targets and carry out precise rescue…”
The broadcast repeated.
The ward fell silent for a few seconds.
Then someone covered his mouth and burst into tears—suppressed, joyful sobs.
Chen Li’s eyes reddened too.
She placed the radio on the bedside table farthest inside, turned the volume down, and let it loop.
As she turned, she quickly wiped her eyes.
Xiao Wang wiped away tears as well. His voice was choked.
“Sister Chen… they’ve come to save us.”
Chen Li looked out the window.
The gunfire to the south had gradually stopped. The sky was darkening, and the distant city skyline sank into twilight.
“We have to hold on first,” she said.
“They’re clearing the area to the south now. Once they’re done, they’ll come up.”
The radio’s volume was low, but it felt like a beam of light cutting into this sealed ward.
Someone took out the remaining biscuits, broke them into pieces, and shared them.
Even the boy who’d been crying quietly listened to the radio.
But Chen Li didn’t completely relax.
She walked back to the window and looked down.
The zombies that had densely packed the square were down by more than half. The rest were slowly shuffling south.
Still… something felt wrong.
Too quiet.
Earlier, sporadic growls had echoed through the inpatient building’s corridors. Now it was completely silent.
Those zombies didn’t seem to have been lured away by the gunfire.
It was like something had called them away.
At that moment, a low roar rumbled from deep inside the inpatient building.
It was different from an ordinary zombie’s—heavier, more penetrating, as if some beast was thrusting up from the depths of its throat.
Chen Li’s face went pale.
She spun around and made a shushing gesture to everyone, pointing at the door—then at her ears.
Doctor Zhang lowered his voice to almost a whisper.
“What… what is that? Ordinary zombies aren’t like that.”
Chen Li shook her head.
She didn’t know what it was.
She only knew that the most troublesome thing in the hospital wasn’t the ones outside the door.