Perhaps he was the leader of the hospital, because I saw him emerge first—fastest of all—followed by the others in a swarm. It was him who had always given me that sense of danger.
Ironically, Lang's kick had been perfectly timed, saving his whining companion from a fatal strike and revealing the presence of the zombie leader. They retreated a few steps, widening the gap.
The failed claw strike didn't lead to another. The zombie leader stood still, tilting his head toward me. Though distance separated us, I felt his gaze fixed on me, weighing whether I would join the battle, compete for food, calculating risks and gains.
Were they like me—still carrying human consciousness? If so, why must they harm? If not, did it mean they possessed some form of intelligence?
No answers. Because they were surrounded.
Two of the pursuing zombies suddenly accelerated, charging into the group, forcing them to stop and defend, edging closer to the parking lot.
I considered driving away. Whoever won, it meant nothing to me. I had no interest in watching bloodshed. As a youth raised under sunlight, who would want to see such things? Even as a medical student who had seen cadavers, I wasn't prepared for this scale of violence. Call me delicate—I am.
Why didn't I leave? Because I saw one of the zombies conjure fire. A ball no larger than an orange. It missed its target, landed on a scooter, and set it ablaze.
Fire again. Today seemed cursed with fire.
Under Yu's command, several climbed onto the ambulance roof—clearly the weaker ones, or burdens. One man, bleeding from his arm, stayed below. No one helped him. Why not? A simple pull would have sufficed.
Soon, humans and zombies clashed together. They fought with some coordination, not entirely chaotic. For a moment, it looked balanced.
But only for a moment. Humans are consumable. Zombies are not. More spilled from the hospital, clumsy, tripping over corpses, but countless. Four or five times the humans' number.
The injured man leaned against the ambulance, unmoving. A zombie lunged at him. He didn't dodge. I instinctively tried to push it away.
And it happened. The zombie staggered aside, as if shoved.
I couldn't see his expression, but mine was shock—breaking days of stiff muscles. I remembered the supermarket, pushing Yu Dong. It hadn't been an illusion.
If fire could appear from thin air, why not telekinetic force? Perhaps water, ice, more to come. Was this weakness in my body the price?
The zombie rose again, lunged. I pushed again. Harder. It fell farther. Again, and again. Like a giant roly-poly toy, toppling and rising.
Finally, others noticed. The ones on the ambulance pointed, speaking. I couldn't hear, but perhaps they thought the zombie's movements were clumsy. Or maybe they suspected something else.
I practiced, refining the skill. Not grand strategy—just pushing claws away from human flesh. Small interventions. Enough to steady the fight.
Gradually, the humans regained footing. The two unusual zombies—those with abilities—remained outside, watching. Alongside the leader. Guarding. None noticed the car nearby, with me inside.
After repeated pushes, morale rose. Blades swung harder.
"Qin Changlang, get alcohol from the hospital!" Yu shouted. Lang obeyed, retrieving bottles. He hurled one at the fire-wielding zombie. The fireball exploded midair, nearly burning his own allies.
Not fearsome enemies, but foolish teammates are worst.
"What are you doing!" Yu roared.
"I…" Lang faltered, words failing.
Angry, Yu kicked a zombie aside, seized the bottles, smashed three against a car, and shouted for a lighter. Flames erupted, zombies recoiled. Humans shoved them into the blaze.
Glass shattered, fire spread. Burning zombies staggered out, shrieking, stumbling through the lot. Walking pyres. Easier targets. Humans pushed others into the flames, gaining ground.
"Everyone, regroup!" Yu commanded. They clustered near the ambulance. Zombies scattered, picked off quickly.
But then—the three watching zombies struck. Fireballs flew. And ice. Ice shards among flames. One zombie could freeze water.
Fire and ice together—canceling each other's strength.
Another zombie moved with speed. From farthest edge to striking range in a blink. His claws nearly reached a man. Then—he stopped. Bound.
It was me. My force held him, only seconds, but enough.
Lang, startled, reacted. His iron rod slammed into the zombie's skull. Spikes burst from the rod, piercing through, protruding from its face. The zombie still lunged, but Lang struck again.
Brutal. Skull shattered. And strangely, I felt no disgust. A flicker of satisfaction. Perhaps only such violence could carve a path to survival, break despair, reveal sunlight.
With the speed zombie down, Lang joined Yu, fighting the remaining two. Others contributed, wary of stragglers.
Noise drew more zombies from afar. I sensed them. They sensed me. But as the parking lot emptied, they hesitated, circling, unwilling to approach.
When the last zombie fell, the humans collapsed, filthy, exhausted. Only Yu remained standing. And he looked—straight toward me.