John Wang's POV
March 17th, 2025 — 9:38 PM
Longwan University — Linbei Campus, Ruined Courtyard
—
The cracked pavement stretched out ahead of us — uneven, broken, half-swallowed by weeds and old bloodstains.
I raised a hand once, sharp, silent, and the group tightened immediately.
Mu Qinglan slid to my left flank, her bat held low but ready. Shen Yifei shifted nervously to my right, spear clutched too high but steady enough. Zhou Xue limped near the centre of the pack, shielded by the others — Chen Xun, Deng Hua, Liang Qiu, Guo Fan — all moving stiff, jittery.
A sloppy formation, but they still moved well.
That was enough.
I kept us tight along the western wall, sticking to the shadows thrown by the broken shell of the old gymnasium. Ahead, maybe thirty meters out, a cluster of infected drifted across the old food court.
Five, maybe six. Mouths slack, heads twitching, dragging broken limbs behind them.
No pattern.
No intelligence.
Just hunger.
