Chapter 3: Crazy Orders
Northeast of Atlanta, at the third intersection.
Wu Fan's vehicle came to an abrupt stop.
The road wasn't blocked by zombies.
It was blocked by the military.
Three Humvees were parked across the center of the road, each equipped with an M249 light machine gun mounted on the roof.
A dozen soldiers in full combat gear formed a checkpoint, their rifles trained on every approaching vehicle.
Further ahead, coils of concertina wire stretched across the roadway, leaving only a narrow inspection lane open.
"Stop! Turn off the engine!"
A soldier rushed forward, the muzzle of his rifle nearly touching the driver's side window.
Wu Fan immediately raised both hands.
"Friendly! I'm a police officer."
"Everyone's friendly these days!"
The soldier didn't even glance at his badge.
He yanked the car door open and barked,
"Get out! Your vehicle is being requisitioned!"
"Wait—"
Before Wu Fan could react, he was dragged from the car.
A riot shield was shoved into his arms.
Then came a baton.
He stared blankly at the equipment before looking around.
The soldiers manning the defensive line were carrying the same gear—riot shields and batons—while their M4 rifles and machine guns remained slung across their backs or stationed behind hastily constructed sandbag positions.
There was even a tank parked nearby with its engine shut off.
"What the hell is this insanity?"
Wu Fan's eyes widened.
No wonder civilization was collapsing so quickly.
Was this the world's way of forcing humanity to lose its collective intelligence?
They had enough firearms and ammunition to arm an army, yet they were choosing to fight with shields and clubs?
At least give them machetes.
What good were batons against zombies?
They were practically feeding themselves to the enemy.
At that moment, another military Humvee pulled up.
A military doctor wearing a white coat jumped out and hurried toward the passenger side of the police vehicle.
Maddie was carried out by two soldiers.
Her leg was swollen and bruised purple, and her face was as pale as paper.
"She was hit by a car. Her leg may be broken," Wu Fan said quickly.
The doctor gave her a brief examination before waving his hand.
"Load her onto the transport truck. Send her to the rear medical station."
"Wait!"
Wu Fan stepped forward anxiously.
"You can't send her to a hospital! Anyone who gets bitten becomes infected! They'll turn into zombies and attack people!"
"That's enough."
A cold voice interrupted him.
Wu Fan turned around.
A white officer wearing a Captain's insignia strode toward him.
He looked to be around forty years old, with a crew cut, a clean-shaven face, and eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
"You. Asian police officer."
The Captain's voice carried unquestionable authority.
"You are now under military command."
"Sir, those aren't rioters, they're—"
"I know exactly what they are."
The Captain cut him off.
His hand rested casually on the M9 pistol at his waist.
"But look behind you."
Wu Fan turned.
Behind the checkpoint stood a massive crowd.
Not zombies.
People.
Men.
Women.
Children.
The elderly.
Some carried suitcases.
Others pushed shopping carts loaded with belongings.
A few had fled so hastily they were still wearing pajamas and slippers.
They screamed, cried, and shoved against one another as they surged toward the military barricade like a tidal wave.
"These people want to get through."
The Captain's voice was ice-cold.
"Other states have already fallen. They think there's safety somewhere else."
"There isn't."
"Only more of those things."
He paused.
"Our objective now is simple: control the spread of infection."
"If they're clean, let them run."
"If they're infected, lock them up."
Wu Fan opened his mouth, but no words came out.
"So your orders are simple."
The Captain pointed toward the defensive line.
"Stand there."
"Use whatever is in your hands."
"And stop anyone from crossing that line."
"Whether they're alive..."
"Or one of those things."
"But—"
"If you run."
The Captain drew his pistol.
At the same moment, a nearby soldier pressed the barrel of his M4 firmly against Wu Fan's chest.
"I'll execute you as a deserter."
"Do you understand?"
Wu Fan stared at the gun.
Then into the Captain's eyes.
Those weren't the eyes of a man making threats.
Those were the eyes of someone who had seen war.
Someone who would pull the trigger without hesitation.
"...Understood."
He clenched his teeth and nodded.
The Captain holstered his pistol.
"Then get back to the line."