Ten days ago, I was just a stay-at-home mom taking care of my baby with my parents. Actually, with my parents' help, I didn't need to quit my job. But at the time, I was so busy that work was seriously interfering with my time with my baby. Work can always be done later, but a child's growth is irreversible. For this reason, I had just resigned not long ago.
My husband, Canaan, runs a small company with friends. Their income is average but sufficient to cover our household expenses. So I wasn't in a rush to return to work and planned to rest at home for two months.
Our precious son is named Shuai Shuai. He's a chubby little bundle of joy, utterly adorable. Now just over eleven months old, he's incredibly lively and mischievous. This little treasure is the heart of our family—all five of us are basking in the bliss of family life!
But no one could have imagined this world would actually be overrun by zombies!
We lived on the 18th floor, the top floor. Following the unspoken rules in China, the rooftop balcony naturally belonged to us. We even built a small, almost entirely glass-enclosed greenhouse up there. In my free time, I could take the baby up to the rooftop balcony to soak up the sun without worrying about the wind blowing him away. You see, sunlight plays a crucial role in a child's healthy development.
My parents are supermarket fanatics and early-morning market devotees, returning home each day with so many groceries they can barely carry them. Consequently, our two refrigerators are always packed to the brim.
After this brief introduction, I'll recount what happened.
It was a Sunday, and my husband Canaan was resting at home. Now, every day we feel fortunate it was Sunday! Otherwise, we might never have seen him again.
Anyone who's had a toddler knows that at this age, babies wake up several times a night—for milk, water, diaper changes, or just crying until they're picked up and soothed back to sleep. Canaan is a great husband and an even better dad. Even though he works during the day, he takes full responsibility for getting up at night to care for Shuai Shuai.
Despite Shuai Shuai's nighttime antics, he never sleeps in. By five or six in the morning, he's fully awake—and I mean fully awake. No amount of coaxing will send him back to sleep.
Because of this, someone must accompany him every morning—whether playing, drinking water, or eating a few crackers. There's simply no chance for more sleep. And that task, of course, falls to me. Canaan handles the night, I handle the early morning. We've worked in perfect harmony like this since Shuai Shuai was born. But that Sunday morning, something felt off. Usually, even when it's still dark outside, distant lights are visible. Today, though, the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed shrouded in thick white gauze—I couldn't see a thing.
Snow? I pressed my face against the sun-warmed glass, straining to see. Nothing but a vast, white haze! I turned to the north window and looked out—same effect. I couldn't see more than half a meter ahead. This wasn't snow! Snow doesn't look like this. It's impossible not to see the building across the street!
I felt a chill. I wasn't in the capital city; I was in Bincheng. Sandstorms were common here, but I'd never seen fog this thick in this city, not since I was a kid!
Years ago, I watched a movie called The Mist. In that film, the fog poured out from a torn-open space, bringing with it all manner of terrifying, man-eating monsters. A group of people were trapped in a supermarket, their sanity teetering on the edge of collapse. Finally, the protagonist, along with his son and two others, managed to escape after enduring unimaginable hardships. But then, in the thick fog, they spotted a monstrous creature as tall as a building passing by. Their car had run out of gas. With no other options left, he ended the lives of the other four with the only gun he had.
It was an act of mercy—he spared them the monsters' torment. With only four bullets left, he chose to face the final terror alone. Yet the ending shattered him! The fog lifted swiftly, and military rescue arrived. He was saved, but his own child lay dead by his hand. This film left me deeply depressed, unable to shake it for days, etching an indelible mark on my soul!
So this identical thick fog sent a shiver down my spine. I quickly moved away from the large floor-to-ceiling windows on the balcony, holding my child close, just in case some monster's tentacle suddenly burst through the glass and snatched my son away!
By a little past seven, the whole family was up. Seeing the thick fog outside, everyone was startled. Dad abandoned his plan to go to the morning market for groceries—the fridge was already packed full anyway. We dared not open the windows for fresh air as usual. Turning on the TV and computer, the news was filled with reports about smog. Online, we saw that this sudden smog was a global phenomenon. Foreign forums were abuzz with heated discussions, and some were even promoting doomsday theories online, leaving us all feeling anxious and unsettled.
But by 8:30, sunlight began to dissolve the thick fog, which looked like a layer of buttercream frosting. Outside, the air cleared up, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. We stopped paying attention to the online news—after all, with a little one at home, there were too many things to do. Canaan and Dad prepared breakfast for the adults and Shuai Shuai respectively. Mom read Shuai Shuai a little picture book, while I, as usual, vacuumed the floors, mopped them, and scrubbed the slippers. Shuai Shuai crawls all over the place, so keeping the floor clean is essential!
Our family busied ourselves, leaving the panic brought by the morning smog far behind.
Around ten in the morning, Dad peered out the north window as usual, scanning the neighborhood courtyard for other kids heading out to play. This was his daily time to take his grandson downstairs for playtime.
Then he beckoned us over, puzzled. "Strange," he said. "Why are there so many people downstairs today?"
Canaan and I are the curious types. Hearing this, we immediately went to investigate. What we saw sent a chill through me—this was far from normal! And the feeling... it felt all too familiar! My husband and I share a common interest: our biggest hobby is watching all kinds of horror movies, especially American series like The Walking Dead! We'd get so pumped watching them, often arguing passionately about the plotlines.
Our gated community is beautifully landscaped, usually quiet except for parents playing with kids downstairs. But today? Downstairs was packed with people, all swaying unsteadily like those mindless zombies from the movies!
My husband and I exchanged a glance and blurted out simultaneously, "No way, right?"
Though we often discuss how we'd handle a zombie outbreak here, deep down we absolutely refuse to believe such terrifying creatures could truly exist in this world.
But now, what are they? Patients? Lunatics? Mentally ill?
Though stunned, my husband and I reacted swiftly. Without a second thought, we rushed to the front door to check if the hallway was safe, regardless of what was happening below.
Our apartment layout features only two units per floor. Additionally, our home has an extra security door installed by property management—designed to prevent fire damage from spreading to the neighboring unit. This effectively gives us two layers of security, making our home relatively safe.
We opened our inner door and approached the outer entrance. It was locked. Pressing our ears against the door, we listened for sounds in the hallway. Being the top floor, only delivery personnel and cleaners ever came up here. The neighbors across the hall were a couple in their forties with no children. We rarely interacted, only occasionally crossing paths in the elevator.
Outside, it was quiet. Dead, dead quiet! My husband and I exchanged a glance before gently unlocking the outer iron door.
The hallway was empty. I glanced at the elevator indicator—it was stationary on the basement garage level. No one was using the elevator now! The door across from us was tightly shut. My husband and I instinctively dashed toward the stairwell's iron door. It stood open—it was always left unlocked, though it could be secured. We peered into the stairwell. Dead quiet, not a sound. The clutter sat forlornly piled up. I whispered, "Honey, should we get ready?"
He nodded. We swiftly dragged Dad's pickled cabbage crock into the middle of the stairs, then added the neighbor's discarded old sofa. We piled them up at the midpoint between the floor below and ours. This blocked the path from below. Still uneasy, we checked the top-floor space again—empty, with the door to the rooftop locked. The property management had secured it.
After confirming the 18th floor was sealed off as an independent, secure zone, we retreated and locked the stairwell iron door from the inside.
My husband and I retreated back inside, firmly locking both the outer iron door and the inner iron door from the inside.
We returned to the window to observe below. Screams were now audible, and the scene we witnessed made us tremble! Several people were pinning down one individual who was screaming wildly. This attracted the attention of the other loitering figures. Soon, the screams ceased. Dad and Mom were petrified, repeating, "Have these people lost their minds? Why aren't the police here?"
Exactly! Why hasn't anyone called the police? Canaan quickly grabbed her phone and dialed 911! But it was busy—constantly busy! This was abnormal. We'd never heard of emergency lines being overwhelmed like this before!
Helplessly, we hung up and continued watching from inside the compound. Honestly, as ordinary people, there was nothing we could do.
My husband and I had seen this scene too many times: when a zombie lunged at someone, that person would still be cursing, "Get lost! You lunatic! You maniac!"
My parents had never seen these horror movies. They simply didn't understand that these people could no longer be called human.
Only my chubby little son, whose curiosity matched his parents', stared with innocent eyes, showing no fear at all. He was a little kid who simply didn't understand danger!
Suddenly, my heart feels so heavy! Hobbies are one thing, but the reason we enjoy watching horror movies is because we all know that terror is a million miles away from us—it has nothing to do with us whatsoever. It only exists on the screen. We've always lived in safety, which is why we can watch them so easily, so happily.
But now, when terror unfolds before my eyes in reality, I find nothing amusing about it—only panic and despair!
My heart trembled incessantly. My eyes couldn't tear themselves away from the scene below, and my legs went limp.
Then a chest pressed against mine. My husband silently pulled me into a tight embrace. He whispered softly, "Don't be afraid. Haven't you forgotten? At least we're experienced, right?"
Indeed, we were no strangers to such scenes. We'd watched nearly every zombie movie out there and knew the tropes inside out—especially the traits of these terrifying creatures.
Unnoticed, my strength returned. I was a daughter, a mother. Though I had my husband, relying solely on him to protect our entire family was unrealistic. I had to become strong!
I forgot to mention—my husband trained in sanda. He has a lean, muscular build, though he looks somewhat wiry. But he's definitely the epitome of strength and composure.
As for me, I've always had a fiery temperament, so I earned my black belt in taekwondo two years ago. Taekwondo emphasizes leg techniques, focusing primarily on swift and ruthless leg attacks. While my leg techniques aren't particularly impressive—I prefer training arm and palm strength on the punching bag at the dojo—I've grasped the core principles of Taekwondo's offensive philosophy quite well.
At the very least, neither of us has the frail physique of the modern average person. During this time, we repeatedly tried calling the police and the mayor's hotline, but all lines were dead! You can imagine how chaotic things had become outside!
The TV was on, but no entertainment programs remained. Only one channel broadcast the same content: a stern-faced middle-aged man in a Mao suit speaking. I'd never seen this man's face in any media before, so he must be a high-ranking official rather than a host.
At this critical moment, he was issuing warnings. I surmised he must be the type of leader who handles crises—usually low-key but wielding real power.
The warning was straightforward: "Citizens, an epidemic has broken out outside, causing infected individuals to exhibit rabies-like symptoms. Please remain indoors as much as possible and avoid going out! Ensure your own safety! If anyone in your household exhibits symptoms, isolate them immediately. Await military assistance and refrain from rash actions!"
Honestly, we deeply trust our nation's military. Whether facing floods or earthquakes, our most beloved soldiers always charge to the front lines, shielding us from danger and rescuing citizens from peril! Hearing this announcement, our family felt renewed hope and calmed somewhat.
Time was tight. I quickly explained to my parents what zombies were. They still couldn't believe it, but the reality unfolding under the blazing sun forced them to accept it. Chaos reigned outside.
Fortunately, the 18th floor was very high. So far, no particularly diligent zombies had bothered to climb up looking for living prey, so we remained safe.
Our son Shuai Shuai showed no interest in our serious conversation. He was a bit upset that Grandpa hadn't taken him downstairs to play today, but toys quickly captured his attention, and he happily played by himself.
My parents were actually terrified, but seeing my husband and me constantly reassuring them, they forced themselves to stay calm to spare us worry. After calming my parents, my husband and I quickly inventoried our food supplies. We had no idea how long we'd need to stay holed up here! With the chaos outside, even the military couldn't possibly handle so many infected zombies anytime soon.
Yes, zombies! Though the news called them infected patients, Canaan and I insisted they were zombies!
Both refrigerators were packed with greens, meats, and fruits. Dad had just stockpiled three bags of rice and over thirty steamed buns—thank goodness for Mom's appetite; she adored buns! They required no electricity, and we had no idea how long power or water would last.
Two large boxes of formula milk for our son. He's mostly eating solid food now, but he happily drinks milk too—not a picky eater at all. Thank goodness for that!
Under the dining table, a box overflowing with canned beef and fish, plus two cases of canned beer. Okay, that's my husband's vice. I always scold him for eating this junk, calling it cancer-causing junk food. But now? I'm actually grateful! The shelf life is plenty long!
But we soon discovered a serious problem! We usually prefer to boil our own water for drinking, so we don't keep bottled or jugged water at home. If the tap water becomes contaminated, we'd really have no choice but to rely on bottled water.
The problem is, we didn't have a single bottle at home!
Because we have elderly family members and children, we keep several large thermoses filled daily with boiled water for drinking and household use. Today, every thermos was full.
This meant we might have enough water for now, but what about tomorrow? The day after?
After all, when it comes to survival, water is more critical than food. A person can go a week without eating and still survive. But without water for three days, that person would literally die of thirst.