Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead: Typhoon

by Chu, Wesley

  That was probably a good idea. They’d already wasted too much time here. “Come on,” Zhu said. “It’s not much farther.”

  “What’s not much farther?” asked Elena. “What is this place?”

  “Just a place I heard might be good for salvage.” Zhu led his wind team down to a narrow alley that connected to two busy streets. Luckily, the jiāngshī were more scattered here. He pointed at a door on the ground level. “It’s in there.”

  They dropped down at the exact same time in between a small group of jiāngshī. Zhu jumped the two on their left while his teammates handled the remaining three on their right. Zhu’s machete whipped upward, slicing open a jiāngshī from naval to neck. The thing lurched forward even as the left half of its chest peeled away from its body, exposing several broken ribs and a dark red-and-purple mass of flesh, which he could only assume was a lung. He pulled the machete back, and found it momentarily stuck in between two ribs. The jiāngshī pawed at him with its one good arm. Zhu brushed it aside and planted a foot on its chest right at the purple mass. He pushed with his feet and pulled simultaneously until he wiggled the blade free.

  That momentary delay proved costly as the other jiāngshī dove toward him. Zhu tried to duck out of the way but the thing plowed into him, wrapping its arms around his waist. This jiāngshī was a big boy, extra large and extra plump, who towered over Zhu and was nearly half again wider. He writhed as the jiāngshī wrapped its arms around his, trapping them to his body, and then watched in horror as it opened its jaws and went for his shoulder. The jiāngshī bit down. Zhu screamed.

  Elena screamed as well. “No! I don’t have a clear shot.”

  Zhu squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, fully expecting to have his flesh torn apart, feeling the spray of his own blood on his face. Then, that would be it for Chen Wenzhu. That was how the outbreak spread. If someone survived a jiāngshī’s bite, they were doomed to die and return as one. There had been several instances of people surviving a bite by having their affected parts cut out or amputated, but that wouldn’t help Zhu now. He was sure there was no way to cut off his shoulder.

  Even worse than death, once he became a jiāngshī, he would attack the living and continue to spread this curse. The thought of him injuring people close to him pained him deeply. Elena or Bo would have to put him down…

  Instead of his prediction, however, all Zhu felt was a dull ache on his shoulder, almost like a massage. He pried open one eye and studied the jiāngshī more closely, and realized it used to be an old man. Where his teeth should have been were greyed, glistening gums. This jiāngshī must have been missing his dentures! It continued to gnaw futilely with its gummy mouth.

  An arrowhead burst out of his chest. The jiāngshī’s body shook, but he stayed focused on trying to chew on Zhu’s shoulder. Zhu managed to pry one arm loose and press it against the jiāngshī’s neck to push him back. Another arrow went in through the back of his neck and out the front, piercing the flesh in between Zhu’s thumb and index fingers.

  He stared wide-eyed at the close call. A few centimeters to either side and he would be missing a finger. He turned to the source. “Hey, watch it.”

  Then Bo was there, grabbing a fistful of the jiāngshī’s hair and pulling it off Zhu. The big man threw the heavy corpse to the ground and smashed his sledgehammer down on its head.

  Elena was by Zhu’s side a moment later. Near panic showed on her face as she pulled his shirt down to search for injuries. His shoulder was disgustingly wet, but the skin remained unbroken.

  Both Zhu and Elena deflated with relief and held on to each other.

  They stayed still for several moments as the adrenaline dumped from his body. Being out in the wilderness was always dangerous, but this was one of the closest calls he’d had with death, and it was merely by dumb luck that he’d survived. “That was close.”

  “Too close.” She pulled back and poked him hard in the chest. “You have to be more careful, Chen Wenzhu. If you turn into a jiāngshī on me, I swear I’m not going to put you down. I’m going to keep you around like a pet and call you Zhu Zhu.”

  “That doesn’t sound too bad,” he replied, half joking. “I’m sorry. I am unfocused today. Have a lot on my mind.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  He looked around. “Later. Now’s not a good time.”

  “I’m holding you to that.” She waggled a finger at him. “It’s a good thing you have Bo and me to watch your back. Don’t press your luck, mister.”

  He pointed back at the door. “Bo, can you break us in?”

  “I’m on it.”

  Bo got to work on the door. He hefted his sledgehammer and swung it like a baseball bat at the door knob. The sound of the impact echoed with a dull thunk. Nothing happened. Bo frowned. He hit the door again several more times, making an impressive amount of noise with each blow but getting them no farther inside.

  Elena tugged at Zhu’s sleeve. “We’re attracting an audience.”

  Jiāngshī had gathered on both ends of the alley to investigate the commotion. They began to stream toward the wind team one by one. Bo hammered the door harder and more furiously, but only succeeded in making more of a ruckus and attracting even more curious jiāngshī. The two mobs closed in on them.

  “Save your energy,” Zhu said to a huffing and puffing Bo after he dropped the sledgehammer to catch his breath. “We’re going to need it.”

  “We can’t fight this many,” said Elena. She was right. This many jiāngshī in this confined a space would overwhelm them in seconds. She looked up at the narrow window above the door. “There, help me up.”

  Zhu laced his fingers and boosted her up to the window. Elena pulled out her knife and smashed the glass with the butt.

  “They’re coming,” said Bo.

  “I just need a few more…” Elena cleared the glass shards and disappeared inside.

  Bo swung his sledgehammer at the closest jiāngshī, collapsing its collarbone with an audible snap, while Zhu waited for those coming from the other side to get closer. He would be able to kill two or three at most before the rest overwhelmed them. Behind him, Zhu could hear the door jiggle. He stabbed a jiāngshī in the face and retreated, his back bumping up against Bo. There were only a few meters of space now between the two groups.

  “Listen, xiăodì,” said Bo. “Both of us don’t have to die. I’ll push you up to the window.”

  “All right.” Zhu didn’t hesitate. The dead may be slow, but they never hesitate. That was one of the first lessons ingrained into every windrunner during training. They all had to accept the reality that they would inevitably fall sooner than later, and end up joining the enemy’s ranks. The question was if it was a good death.

  As Windmaster Hengyen often quoted, “If you waste time fighting over the bill, you both end up paying the price.”

  Bo leaned his back against the door and laced his fingers together. He glanced at the encroaching jiāngshī and sighed. “This is how it happens in my dream as well. Take care of my xiăomèi.”

  Zhu stepped up on Bo’s hands. “I’m sorry.”

  Bo shrugged. “Cut the limb to save the body. Kill the man to save the team. Sacrifice the army to save the Living Revolution.” Another slogan.

  As soon as Zhu began to rise up toward the window, the door swung open and both men spilled inside, a tangle of kicking and flailing limbs. Elena slammed the door behind them and locked it again.

  She hovered over them worriedly. “Are you all right? Anyone bitten?”

  Zhu, finding himself sprawled on top of Bo, rolled off. He began to laugh as the relief poured out of him. Bo sat up and soon joined in.

  “I wouldn’t have fit through that window anyway,” said Zhu.

  Bo chuckled. “I know. I thought they would eat their fill of me and forget about you.” Outside the door, the sounds of groans and scraping fingernails rose as their laughter diminished.

  Elena helped them both up. “Where are we?
Zhu, how did you know about this place?”

  He didn’t answer, instead scanning the room and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. They were in a large mechanic’s garage. The faint outline of what looked like a tractor missing its wheels sat on a lift. On the far side was an old delivery truck. Along the back wall were neat stacks of boxes of what looked like supplies. The air smelled stale, which was good. That usually meant this space was enclosed. As far as he could tell, he couldn’t smell the dead. Maybe they really got lucky this time.

  This was the right place, just as he remembered. From before…

  But today, his wind team had hit the jackpot. He scrambled to one of the shelves and dug through the contents: a carton of coolant, strings of lights, a drawer of power tools. He cut open a cardboard box and raised a fist. “Oil cans.”

  Elena’s face lit up. “Those are worth extra points!”

  They split apart, scavenging for supplies in the dank room. They made their selections, balancing a given item’s value against its weight. It was still a two- to three-day trek home, so they couldn’t be too greedy. Zhu sent Bo to check the truck. Car parts were urgently needed, so they would fetch a lot of points. He sent Elena to load up on cans of oil and working lights and began to clear the cabinets, grabbing power tools and parts. One of the mechanics back at the Beacon had a request for a functioning motorcycle alternator. Elena scanned the boxes, looking for anything even remotely familiar to the characters for “motorcycle.”

  Zhu and Bo picked the place clean of the most valuable items based on what they could carry. They had to pass on several valuables, such as a carton of car batteries and several containers of gasoline, due to their size and weight. Ever since the grids fell, power was always in demand, but these would be far too heavy for them to carry all the way back to the Beacon. Other scavenge, however, like cans of oil or screwdrivers were worth their weight in gold. As if gold was even worth anything anymore.

  The delivery truck engine on the other side of the garage turned several times, then rumbled to life. Bo climbed out of the driver’s side and closed the hood triumphantly. “Xiăodì, this thing still runs. I just put in a fresh battery and everything works. It’d be a shame to take the engine apart. Maybe we can load up all the stuff and drive it home.”

  Zhu shook his head. “Wishful thinking. We’ll never make it through the river of jiāngshī. Just get what you can carry.”

  Bo’s face fell. “Fine.” He turned off the engine and disappeared around the back.

  Zhu was about to check on Elena when a cry cut through the garage. One of the metal shelves dividing the garage toppled over, spilling its contents. Bo’s flashlight went skidding across the floor, spinning its light.

  Zhu beamed his own light toward the sounds. Bo had somehow run into one of the shelves and knocked it over. He had fallen onto his backside into one of the openings, and his feet were flailing in the air. Zhu was about to let out a chuckle when he noticed a scatter of movements just past where Bo had fallen.

  A chorus of guttural groans filled the garage. Just past him, the delivery truck’s cargo doors were swinging on their hinges, and a steady stream of jiāngshī tumbled out of the truck onto the floor, like lemmings off a cliff. Judging by their black helmets and conical hats, they must have been a mix of police officers and farmers.

  A jiāngshī with riot gear would be tough to crack with the primitive weapons they wielded.

  One of the long-dead police and a burly jiāngshī wearing a leather apron picked themselves up and began to drag their way toward Bo. The big man kicked the officer off balance, but the aproned one fell on top of him. Bo managed to grip its neck and keep from being bitten as the jiāngshī clawed at his face.

  Zhu quickly grabbed his scavenge-laden duffel and hurried to help his friend. Elena reached Bo first. She pulled back her spear and stabbed the jiāngshī in the back of the head. Zhu was there a moment later, his machete expertly slashing two more dead as Elena helped Bo to his feet. He cut down another jiāngshī in a dress but nearly stumbled over a stack of tires that had fallen over.

  Elena and Bo retreated toward the door as the garage crowded with more jiāngshī.

  “No,” yelled Zhu. “We can’t go back out into the alley.”

  Elena spun around wildly. “There’s no other way out.”

  She was right. Other than the garage doors, the only other exit was on the opposite wall, which required them to fight through the entire room. More metal squealed as another shelf toppled over, and the mass of jiāngshī rushed at them. One of the shelves fell on top of the tractor, pushing it off the lift, crushing several jiāngshī next to it.

  Zhu looked up. There was a row of narrow windows just under the ceiling. He pointed. “Up there. Climb!”

  He cut down a jiāngshī in mechanic’s garb and then tested the shelf leaning on the tractor. He began to run up it, using each metal level as a step. Several arms reached up through the opening, grabbing at his leg. A bald jiāngshī who could have passed for Grandma Maribelle’s husband bit down on his shoe. Zhu tried to get grandpa off, but the jiāngshī held on tightly, growling faintly like a Chongqing bulldog. This one actually had teeth and was quickly working his way through his sneakers. Zhu finally gave up trying to shake grandpa loose. He kicked his shoe off and let the jiāngshī keep it. He reached the top of the shelf and gestured for the others to follow. “Hurry!”

  Elena got there first. She stared at the gap between the toppled shelf and the one still standing along the wall below the windows. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  Zhu grabbed her shoulders. He gave her a rough kiss and stared into her eyes. “You can. I’ll be right next to you, but I can’t go until you go first.”

  Elena nodded. “You’d better be right behind me, Chen Wenzhu.”

  She took a deep breath and jumped the gap, one foot landing on top of the shelf and the other just missing. A hand grabbed her ankle, and she nearly fell over the side, but then Bo was there. He swung his long sledgehammer and dismembered it at the elbow. Elena pulled her leg up and kicked the severed hand off her ankle as if it were a large, horrifying insect.

  Zhu waited for Bo to scramble up to where he balanced. The shelf teetered with the two grown men standing on its edge. “Go, xiăodì,” Bo told him.

  Zhu shook his head. “You let me go first in the alley. Your turn.”

  Bo also didn’t hesitate. He leapt the gap and joined Elena on top of the shelf against the wall. The force of his jump, however, pushed Zhu’s shelf away from the wall. Zhu teetered as it shifted beneath his feet. He dropped down to all fours to maintain his balance, still fighting off the grasping hands of the jiāngshī trapped beneath the shelf. Their increased flailing only added to the shelf’s instability, causing it to slowly slide off the tractor.

  Zhu had only a second to react as it tottered on top of the churning mass of jiāngshī. Just as it was about to fall to the ground, he jumped, his fingers just managing to grab the top of the delivery truck. He pulled with every ounce of strength he had and climbed onto its roof.

  “Zhu!” Elena screamed, reaching for him through the window.

  “Xiăodì!” yelled Bo at the same time.

  Zhu didn’t have the strength to speak. He waved at his wind team and gestured for them to go on without him. He watched with a sinking feeling as Bo smashed the glass and tried to coax Elena through. When she refused to budge, he lifted her up and forced her through. The last thing Zhu saw was Elena’s arm reaching for him before they both disappeared.

  “Good man,” muttered Zhu, hanging his head. “Take care of her.”

  He hadn’t kept his promise to Elena, but at least she was all right. He was trapped but alive, for now. Part of him wondered if it would be better just to die. He closed his eyes and sat up. They were crowding one side of the truck and pushing against it, reaching mindlessly for him. Zhu considered just jumping down, accepting his fate, and letting them rip him apart. Certainly it was better than starving
to death on top of a dusty box truck surrounded by the stench of jiāngshī. He drew his machete. Perhaps it would be better to open his veins.

  He stared at the hood of the truck. That’s when it hit him. He looked at the other side of the truck and found it empty.

  “I hope you left the keys in there, Bo,” he muttered.

  Zhu took a deep breath and jumped down to the floor. Fortunately, the door was unlocked, and the key was still in the ignition. He muttered a prayer and turned the key. The truck whined several times. A jiāngshī appeared at the passenger side and began to pound the window. Another began to lift itself onto the hood. Several more joined in. A crack exploded and snaked across the windshield.

  Zhu gritted his teeth. “Let’s go. Let’s go. Please start.”

  Some greater power must have answered his prayer as the engine finally rumbled to life. Zhu punched the accelerator. The truck squealed and came to a sudden stop against the garage door. He ran over a few jiāngshī moving forward, then backed up again. And again. Back and forth. Finally, the door tore off its hinges, and the truck was free.

  The truck pulled out of the garage and clipped the corner of a brick building on the other side of the alley. Zhu swerved into a small parking lot, plowing over several more bodies along the way. He turned the truck toward the road, noting the groups of jiāngshī all along the path.

  Zhu tried to weave his way between the clusters. A group of them could stop the truck just as easily as a brick wall. He had to escape this area as soon as possible. More importantly, he had to stay off the roads. Unfortunately, there were only a few ways in and out of the village, and all of them would be heavily crowded by jiāngshī and abandoned cars.

  The truck ground against the side of a wooden building, collapsing the roof, then rammed aside two other cars as he turned to avoid a small crowd of jiāngshī. It rumbled down the side of a grassy hill and broke a large branch hanging low from a nearby tree before struggling onto a dirt path. He crumpled another car on his way out and finally broke free.