We didn't have much time to mourn our lost companions. There was still too much work to be done.
The most important task now was to protect the living!
All the men joined the work of reinforcing the unit entranceways with steel bars. We had brought back welding torches and tools from the auto parts city. Many men seemed to have a natural knack for this work; those who had never done it before learned quickly with minimal instruction.
Perhaps these skills were innate. It was time for men to rediscover their strength and masculinity in this world where such traits had seemingly diminished!
Women who didn't need to care for children also put on warm clothes, left their homes, and brought hot tea, coffee, and warm meals to the men working frantically.
I even saw several strong, robust women put on work gloves and join the men, cutting steel bars!
Who says women are inferior to men? Even in this desperate apocalypse where life becomes fragile, women can wield blades and axes just like men—they can chop zombies and cut steel!
Reinforcing the unit doors wasn't easy. It took all of us a full week to securely fortify all the entranceways.
Entering and exiting these areas would now require unlocking them. We didn't know how long we could rely on modern systems, so we had to prepare for all possibilities!
During this time, a team went out and brought back two extremely thick, sturdy iron gates from a factory not far from the compound. They literally took the factory's main front doors off their hinges and transported them back using the large rebar truck.
The men installed these large gates at the external exit of the garage. This might make coming and going more troublesome, but we would arrange guards for each mission. When returning and nearing the compound, we would radio ahead so they could prepare to open the gates, allowing us to enter the garage quickly.
This was a precaution. Many zombies still roamed the main street in front of our compound's Gate 1. The garage exit was located not far inside Gate 1. Fortunately, the area between Gate 1 and the underground garage was a parking lot, so the garage entrance was somewhat shielded by vehicles. But there was no guarantee the zombies wouldn't eventually gather there. This was our essential return route; it had to be secure.
Of course, entering the compound above ground through Gates 2 or 3 was also possible. But we had to consider everything and prepare for all scenarios.
Besides, the garage entrance would be a security vulnerability if not specially reinforced!
Regardless, the compound's perimeter security was now something we didn't need to worry about excessively.
To avoid a repeat of the construction site tragedy, I thought we needed systematic combat training.
Every day after breakfast, we gathered in the compound's recreation room, located between Buildings 8 and 12, for physical fitness and combat knife training.
These knife techniques were different from all traditional styles because our goal was singular: survival!
Whether slashing, stabbing, or thrusting, the only target was the zombie's brain!
This required extremely quick reflexes, instant explosive power in the arms, and accuracy.
Of course, avoiding being grabbed or bitten was the prerequisite. If a zombie drew blood, it was a death sentence—no reprieve!
These skills couldn't be acquired without training!
Modern people lived too comfortably. Especially in our compound, many residents owned private cars. They'd leave home, take a few steps into the elevator, go directly to the underground parking, walk a short distance to their car, drive to work, and reverse the process. Some barely moved until lunchtime.
Years of such inactivity resulted in weak physiques. In the apocalypse, such weakness was like tender tofu—a zombie could shatter it easily.
Needless to say, everyone needed training. No one was exempt.
I held a Taekwondo black belt and had assisted coaches with new students. Although my own skills weren't supreme, I knew how to teach. So, I became the physical training coach.
Apart from the elderly, women, and children, all young and middle-aged men had to participate. I asked first and found, to my dismay, that no one had any foundation. Everyone had to start from the beginning. Step one was loosening tendons and bones: head, neck, arms, waist, legs, ankles. We had to warm up slowly before strength exercises.
To train leg strength, we first had to stretch. These city folks were usually inactive, so their bodies were stiff. I taught everyone to help each other stretch their legs. For a while, the recreation room was filled with cries of discomfort.
This was completely normal. Everyone must go through this when starting to stretch! You can't just start kicking high like martial arts masters in movies. Anyone who dared do that and pulled a hamstring wouldn't recover for months!
Impatience wouldn't work. This process had to be gradual. Grit your teeth, endure the pain. Within a week to half a month, no hamstring remains unstretched! They are elastic, but you can't force it; you need to bounce into the stretch. There are methods.
Once the hamstrings were loose, I taught them the front kick. In my opinion, fancy Taekwondo kicks are suited for performance; they look impressive and require real skill. But there's no reason to spin in the air to kick a zombie. A powerful, stable front kick is most likely to save your life. Back at the dojang, I practiced just this front kick diligently for four years. Let's just say my juniors called my front kick the "Nutcracker," showing its effectiveness.
Facing a zombie's sudden attack, grappling with it is the worst choice. At such close range, avoiding bites is very difficult. Plus, its sharp nails can scratch any exposed skin, and drawing blood means it's over!
So, if your knife can't strike in time, a front kick is incredibly effective. It can at least knock the zombie backward. If it falls, you get the chance to jump over and crush its head from above—creating an advantage for yourself!
Moreover, being able to kick a zombie away from yourself in any situation is a life-saving skill that must be practiced well.
This front kick might sound simple, but it involves many basics. Kicking out one leg can make your stance unstable and prone to falling. If you fall and a zombie pounces, that's it. So, you must develop an extremely stable stance, which requires strength in the supporting leg. Needless to say, these thighs, full of fat but no muscle, must be trained to develop elastic, powerful muscles. With muscles comes strength.
A stable stance is only half the victory. Arm strength is the key to winning. A weak little hand swinging a knife, if it doesn't even scratch the zombie's scalp, is useless no matter how sharp the blade! So, two hundred push-ups daily per person were mandatory.
Initially, some couldn't even do two. Their heavy bodies simply couldn't be supported by their thin arms. It made me shake my head. But human potential is limitless, depending on their own effort. Can't do two? Push with all your might for one! Rest, then push for another, rest, do another…
While training for strength, speed was also crucial! Extremely important!
I held kicking pads, blocking people's fierce kicks, constantly urging: "Faster! Faster! Too slow! Like an old ox! A zombie will grab your foot and take you down! You're already dead! Faster! Not fast enough!"
They kicked madly at the pads, eyes red. The speed was acceptable, but they tired easily. This was also a way to increase stamina. It's like running until you feel like vomiting, but after persevering, you find it easier next time.
From barely managing ten slow kicks to continuously delivering dozens or even hundreds of fast kicks without losing power—such progress amazed even themselves.
With strength comes confidence. People's fear of the zombies outside gradually diminished as they themselves grew stronger. This was part of the training goal. Fear saps strength; conversely, strong confidence allows for more complete explosive power.
From initially being unable to do even two push-ups, they progressed to doing dozens in one go. Their arm muscles visibly swelled, becoming firm and powerful. Now, when they punched or wielded a knife, you could hear the wind whistle!
I had already gone through this process myself before gathering everyone. I had spontaneously resumed my physical training routine from my Taekwondo dojang days: stretching, leg presses, arm and leg strength exercises. I was now stronger than during my most active training period at the dojang.
The pressure was different. Back then, my biggest worry was the coach scolding me. Now, it was a matter of life and death. No one needed to push me; I pushed myself relentlessly. I wouldn't stop until I was nearly exhausted. The thought of facing a horde of zombies trying to eat my Shuai Shuai made strength miraculously surge within me, allowing me to persist.
While training everyone, I also continued to push myself mercilessly. Seeing me, a woman, working so hard, infected and inspired them. No one complained of being tired or suffering.
Even the most delicate person now understood that no matter how large the team, the critical moment likely depended on oneself. Remaining weak and vulnerable meant they might be the next one mourned.
Punching the heavy bag thousands of times daily, my hands were now covered in calluses. But I was happy. These hands, these arms, were full of power. I could finally wield that long knife freely without feeling strained.