Chapter Thirty-Seven: It's Safe Here

One after another, figures hurled themselves into the ashen mist like moths to a flame, flinging their mortal bodies at the snarling, howling zombies. They were all recruits, enlisted only a day ago.

“Even if it’s just for a day.”

“We’re still soldiers!”

Their youthful cries rang out.

Tears streaming down their faces, these young men charged into the blue-grey fog, clinging to their fading consciousness as they tackled the oncoming zombies one by one.

But soon, their grip faltered.

Enveloped by the ashen fog, their bodies rose in grotesque unison with the zombies they’d brought down, and with guttural roars, they turned on the fleeing masses.

And within those fleeing crowds, another group of young figures stopped in their tracks.

“Run, all of you!”

“Don’t look back!”

“Hold on! Reinforcements are almost here!”

“You must survive—your task is to build our fortress of steel, and our duty has always been to protect you.”

“We are soldiers!”

“Come on!”

“It’s our turn now!”

Another group of young men turned from the scrambling crowd, charging back toward the deathly pale mist.

When danger descends, when all civilians flee, there are always some who act against all reason, running headlong into the jaws of peril!

Even when faced with mortal danger, so frail as to seem insignificant, like ants before a storm, their furious shouts still shook heaven and earth.

In that moment, they became an unbreakable human wall.

“Come on!”

A kilometer away, in a makeshift camp.

“Something’s wrong!” Situ Hong shouted. “Everyone, grab your gear! Fire support for the 1125 construction sector!”

“Level one combat readiness!”

Thirty seconds later, truck after truck thundered away, some carrying tactical missile launchers racing to the scene.

With a screech and a crash, before the brakes had even fully stopped, Situ Hong kicked open the door and leaped out with a black machine gun in her arms.

Behind her, over three hundred battle-hardened soldiers jumped from the trucks, rifles at the ready.

Stunned by the scene before them, all the veterans’ eyes widened.

A panicked crowd fled toward them, their faces twisted with terror, eyes wild and mouths open in despairing screams.

Five waves.

Those young soldiers, in five waves, had charged again and again into that gray-white fog, holding back the advancing zombies.

With their very lives, they bought the workers precious time to escape.

But the young soldiers who’d gone in before were now themselves transformed into zombies, their minds lost, surging back with primal hunger.

And to stop them, more young soldiers flung themselves into the fray.

Five waves in all.

Each one larger than the last.

Now, among the living, not a single young recruit remained—only workers.

And behind them, the ashen fog rolled forth like a tide, like a grasping hand, sweeping over all.

Within the mist, one decaying figure after another emerged, moving with eerie, unnatural force as they pursued the fleeing survivors.

“What are those?”

“Aren’t those the new recruits we just sent in today? Why are they—?”

Some of the veterans still did not understand what was happening before them.

Situ Hong’s face was troubled; she couldn’t make sense of the scene, either.

But just then, her radio crackled with the clipped voice of a young man.

“Zombies. Spreading! Consider it an irreversible infection!”

“Situ Hong, hold them back! Five minutes!”

“If you don’t, the entire Iron Wall will become a paradise for the undead!”

In an instant, Situ Hong understood. She raised her weapon and strode forward.

“All units, with me!”

“Fire teams—prepare to bombard! Targets: the mist, and the zombies!”

Zombies.

At that word, every veteran felt a chill.

Zombies? The creatures from legends?

Never had they imagined facing such monstrous beings in battle.

Yet only this could explain what they now saw.

Situ Hong, leading more than three hundred armed soldiers, rushed to the front of the crowd. She shouted at the fleeing workers, “Get down!”

“It’s the army! The army’s here!”

“We’re saved!”

“Get down, hurry!”

Clinging to hope, the panic-blinded crowd hesitated not at all, dropping to the ground as ordered.

The next instant—

“Open fire!” Situ Hong bellowed, veins bulging on her forehead as her finger squeezed the trigger.

Gunfire erupted in harsh staccato, muzzle flashes lighting the air. Bullets tore through the sky, whistling over the workers’ heads in sweeping bursts.

The MG3 machine gun roared, savage as a beast unleashed.

Meanwhile, behind her, the three hundred veterans she had personally trained raised their rifles, aiming into the mist at the barely visible zombies.

But for a moment, none could pull the trigger.

“Major General Situ, they—” one old soldier stared, dumbfounded, at the spectral figures in the fog.

Young faces.

Green uniforms.

These were the same young men who had charged into the mist, buying the workers a few more seconds of life with their own.

Their innocent faces seemed still to smile, even as their flesh, torn and bloodied, became a grim badge of their sacrifice.

No matter how hard they tried, the veterans could not bring themselves to shoot.

These hardened men had followed Situ Hong through countless battles, knowing her to be steely and unyielding. With her, they had always found the courage to fire, no matter how fearsome the foe.

But this—

This was no enemy.

These young soldiers were their own comrades.

Could Situ Hong truly be so cold-hearted?

At that moment—

“Are you going to disobey orders?!” Situ Hong roared. “Fire!”

The veterans froze.

It was then they realized that, beneath the cold, relentless barrage, the young commander’s face was streaked with tears.

In the flickering muzzle flashes, her face was icy, but awash with grief.

“They—they would want us to pull the trigger, too!” Situ Hong choked out.

Her words crashed over them like a wave.

“Open fire!”

“Ahhhh!”

“Rest in peace! What you’ve done for our homeland is enough!”

Howling, the veterans squeezed their triggers.

Gunfire thundered.

Rain after rain of bullets shredded the young bodies.

Explosions tore through the mist, the fiery blasts engulfing one familiar figure after another.

Missile launchers roared, hurling short-range missiles like blazing meteors into the heart of the fog.

Bullets shredded everything in their path.

A web of fire was woven through the air, explosions flaring in quick succession. The shockwaves tore at the fog, while a storm of shrapnel, sharp as razors, ripped through those youthful forms.

In the blaze of battle, the veterans wept openly.

And the workers lying on the ground, watching as those green-clad boys who had given everything for their survival vanished into the fiery light, wept as well.

These were the tears of the nation.

Situ Hong shouted, “All survivors, crawl over here—don’t stand up!”

At that moment, the survivors lifted their heads to look at the soldiers ahead, standing like an iron wall and firing with furious abandon.

A profound sense of security settled over them.

As long as these men in green remained, nothing in heaven or earth could harm them.

The bullets that screamed over their heads brought not fear, but a deep, unshakable comfort.

The roar of guns was deafening.

This was the power of their homeland.

This was its thunderous defiance.

“Crawl over! Don’t get up!”

Weeping, the veterans screamed as they fired.

The survivors crawled forward, careful and trembling, until they reached the safety of the soldiers’ line, where they turned and lay crying on the ground.

Here, at last, they were safe.

But some would never return.