With our compound well-supplied, we rarely ventured out, focusing instead on daily fitness training and honing our zombie-combat skills.
Time passed quickly—four months slipped by in the blink of an eye.
The snow in the compound had melted, revealing the soil beneath. Winter jasmine sprouted tender buds in the greenbelts.
Sunlight grew stronger each day, and temperatures rose rapidly. Down jackets became unbearable, and everyone shed their heavy winter clothing.
The children, cooped up indoors all winter, longed to play outside. The elders repeatedly appealed to me, but I hardened my heart and refused each time.
To avoid worrying the elders, we hadn't told everyone how dire the situation outside had become.
We had posted lookouts on the rooftops of Buildings 5 and 6. From there, we could see that the number of zombies surrounding us had multiplied. Lack of food had slowed them down, but we knew all too well that the moment they spotted living humans, their aggression would surge. Their ferocity was beyond anything the elders or children could imagine.
While on watch, I had witnessed survivors from older compounds venturing out for supplies, only to be surrounded by swarms of hungry, frenzied zombies. Their screams pierced the winter sky, carrying all the way to us. Through binoculars, I saw their thick cotton clothes torn to shreds in moments, followed by their intestines—a bloody scene that would haunt anyone for life.
I remembered Brother Jian's parting words: When you finally decide to leave, it might be too late.
Were we truly going to be trapped here?
Although we had only consumed about half of our food supplies, and rationing could stretch them for another six months, what would we do after that?
The children understood nothing of the outside danger. They didn't grasp why those wandering "adults" never returned home. While enjoying the sunlight indoors, they yearned for the outside world—they had been imprisoned inside for far too long.
My husband and I often stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out at the harsh world in silence.
"Honey, Shuai Shuai must grow up! Promise me!" I would sometimes say things that sounded meaningless, but I had to voice them—staying silent would drive me mad.
"I promise! He will grow up, get married, and find a wonderful girl!" My husband would kiss my hair gently—he understood my heart.
"And then have a boy as sweet as him, or a little girl!" We murmured these hopes as if the world were still normal, as if we would wake up tomorrow to busy mornings, breakfasts, and commutes to work.
How beautiful ordinary life seemed now!
Since communication signals were lost, my husband had been unable to contact his mother on her distant farm. He was a steady person who never showed anxiety, but I knew—a filial son like him must be deeply worried.
"Honey, maybe… our compound should relocate?" I finally voiced the idea, hesitantly.
"Where to?" he asked calmly, not surprised by my suggestion—perhaps he had already been considering it.
"To your hometown—Peach Spring Farm. Reunite with your mother! I know you've been thinking of her! So have I!" I said it all in one breath.
Peach Spring Farm was about 300 kilometers from the city—a well-developed area where residents lived in a tidy, elegant town surrounded by endless grain fields. It was a true paradise!
"I've had the same thought. But with so many people, relocation requires careful planning. Since you agree, let's propose it at the meeting tonight!" He seemed excited—finally, we could reunite with Mom!
To our surprise, the proposal passed smoothly at the meeting! Everyone had been growing increasingly anxious about the encircling zombies and dwindling supplies. The idea of escaping to a grain base—Peach Spring Farm—was unanimously supported!
Once decided, we began planning and preparing urgently.
We would use five snowplows to lead the way, clearing paths through zombie hordes.
Two new luxury long-distance coaches would carry the elders and children—90 seats in total, enough for all. Strong men would be assigned as guards on board to prevent emergencies.
The remaining food would be transported in the Mercedes freight truck.
The rest of us, as protectors, would ride in off-road vehicles.
While zombie numbers outside were relatively low, we quietly moved the two prepped luxury coaches and the Mercedes truck into the compound.
First, we loaded all the remaining food. Frozen goods had been mostly consumed or couldn't be taken—there was no way to preserve them on the road. Daily supplies, except for personal carry-ons, had to be abandoned. It pained us to discard items we had risked our lives to obtain, but we would have to restock at the new base. Even carrying only food, the Mercedes truck was packed full.
Next, we helped the elders and children board the coaches. These were new models with wide, sofa-like seats—spacious and comfortable! The windows were sealed and positioned high—a 180cm man stretching to his fullest might barely touch the window edge. I couldn't reach it even jumping. Except for the doors, zombies stood no chance against these vehicles. The electrically controlled doors, once locked, were unbreachable. Plus, five guards armed with sharp blades were stationed at each coach's entrance.
Shuai Shuai refused to leave me, crying to stay with Mom. So, my husband and I remained as guards on the coach carrying him and my parents.
Finally, a van was dedicated to carrying barrel gasoline. We planned to refuel at gas stations along the way but needed reserves for emergencies.
The convoy formed up: five snowplows leading, followed by ten Land Rovers, then the two luxury coaches, the Mercedes truck, five more Land Rovers, and finally the medium van. Twenty-four vehicles, 156 people—a mighty convoy charging out of the compound!
We assigned protectors for the snowplow drivers. Though the cabins were single-seat, the space was decent. We placed thick foam behind the drivers for the protectors to sit on. If any zombie climbed aboard, a sharp blade would be waiting.
The freight truck and van drivers also got agile, skilled bodyguards.
The Land Rovers and other off-road vehicles carried our fighters.
Everyone gripped their blades, ready to fight the zombies to the death!
The convoy's noise instantly alerted the outside zombies! They roared and swarmed forward, even half-devoured ones clawing their way desperately.
Endless hunger made them both terrifying and pitiful!
This was the snowplows' first mission since being commandeered—they proved brutally effective! The giant steel gears mercilessly shredded the front-line zombies into blood mist spraying from both sides—a gruesome yet壮观 (spectacular) sight!
But zombies were relentless! Driven by simple beliefs—bite one, life worth it; bite two, profit—they charged stubbornly, undeterred by the snowplows' carnage, sacrificing endlessly, claws bared, ferocious!
Yet, however slow, the massive snowplows carved a true blood path!
Zombies attacked not just from the front but from the sides too! But our vehicles linked tightly, leaving no gaps. Even if bumpers were damaged, the convoy moved like an unbroken train. Zombies could only pound windows and bodies, unable to stop any vehicle.
Those in the Land Rovers adopted a defensive strategy—opening windows and stabbing blades through guardrails into the heads of zombies trying to climb in, without ever stopping the vehicles.
Zombies swarmed the coaches, roaring incessantly. I urged the elders to hold the children tight and cover their eyes—they must not see this horror!
Standing by the window, I looked down at these once-human zombies, their tattered clothes hinting at their past lives in a civilized society, where they too had struggled for survival. Now, they still fought for food—but that food posed a grave threat to humanity, making them our greatest enemies!
However strong, zombies were only slightly stronger than humans. Against steel vehicles, they could only roar, pound, and ram uselessly. Our convoy advanced slowly, zombies trailing unwillingly.
Finally, the road ahead was flattened by the snowplows—the obstructing zombies now reduced to blood and mud under the gears. With the path clear, the convoy accelerated.
The zombies gnashed their teeth, clawing at the vehicles—somehow reminding me of vendors at long-distance bus stations in the past, hawking fruits, eggs, bread, ice cream, and local specialties outside windows. Sometimes, they would jog after departing buses, hoping to sell a little more. Their hardship and diligence had always moved me. Now, these stumbling zombies, though repulsive, resembled those survival-driven vendors… both striving to live, just with different goals.