Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead: Typhoon

by Chu, Wesley

  Meili was adamant. It took some convincing, but Zhu finally agreed to her way. He was their guest. He finally decided to do what was best for the village and trusted the wind team’s skills. “Meili’s right. Leave them alone. Windrunners know how to handle themselves.” He broke into a grin. “Besides, I’ve seen the way you help people from the Beacon. I’m sure they would appreciate not getting clubbed.”

  Jincai blushed and broke into a wide grin. “Sorry, Zhu.”

  “Keep an eye on them, but don’t expose yourself,” instructed Meili.

  The two teens nodded and were about to head back out when Zhu hesitated, and then asked, “Did you manage to get a good look at them, by chance?”

  Shenyang nodded. “There were two of them. A large, fat man, and a small woman with blond hair.”

  Zhu’s chest tightened. “Damn it. And they’re in trouble?” He jumped to his feet, Meili’s orders slipping from his mind. “I have to go.”

  He had his machete in his hand and was halfway to the valley entrance before anyone even knew what he was doing. Zhu was sprinting down the winding path leading out of the valley when he realized that he had company. Jincai had kept up with him, while Shenyang and Meili were a few steps behind. He stopped abruptly. Jincai, who was easily half a head taller and broader, nearly barreled him over and knocked him out again.

  “Stay here, please! I know these people,” he said quickly. “They’re my friends. If they’re in trouble, I have to help them. I promise I won’t betray you.”

  “What are you doing?” Meili demanded. “You’re risking the entire village, Wenzhu.”

  “I’ll take care of this. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Do not follow me.” Zhu turned around and sped off again before any of them could stop him.

  12 REUNION

  Elena shifted on the traditional stone slab bed. She didn’t understand how anyone could sleep on something so hard. It was supposed to be good for one’s back, but if that was the case, a person might as well sleep on the ground. Hell, soil was bound to be more comfortable than stone.

  Elena would know. She had spent the past hour sitting on it staring at the pictures on the wall. She and Bo had arrived this morning at the same apartment Zhu had brought them to the first time they visited the village. Something about this place had nagged at her and piqued her suspicions. It was how Zhu had chosen this particular apartment out of all the others. It was how anxious and sensitive he became when they were here. Something about this place had really gotten to him.

  She finally figured it out after staring at all these photos. Many were faded and unclear, but she finally recognized Zhu’s familiar face on a scrawny youth in three of them. This place belonged to Zhu’s family, or at least one of his relatives. This explained why he was on edge when they arrived, why he was so shaken after he killed that jiāngshī in the bathroom. Goodness, what if it had been his relative?

  In all the time they had dated, Wenzhu rarely spoke about his family—which, to be honest, she didn’t mind not knowing about and hadn’t pressed the issue. Why should she? This relationship was never supposed to be a real thing. It was a summer fling in a faraway locale with a handsome, albeit slightly nerdy, boy on the other side of the world. They were supposed to create a magical experience together, and then she would return home and treasure these memories for the rest of her life. That was it. No strings attached. Why ruin a good thing by getting serious?

  Now Elena understood that Zhu didn’t feel that way. She was ashamed to admit that he had treated their relationship much more seriously. In return, she had made the fatal mistake with summer flings and had actually fallen for him. Even when they did get serious, though, and she had shared stories about her family, he was still closemouthed about his. At first she thought it was because he was ashamed of his poor, uneducated, and rural upbringing, Now she knew the reason Zhu didn’t talk about his family: guilt. This was his family, and he had returned to find them gone, and probably dead. He even had to put down one of them.

  Elena didn’t blame him. If she were in his shoes, she would have felt the same way. Well, unless the jiāngshī in question was her uncle Graham. That guy was a piece of work.

  Elena resisted the temptation to take one of the photos out of its frame. It wasn’t hers to take and keep. She kissed her finger and pressed it against one of his pictures, and then went into the next room.

  Children had obviously lived here. Did Zhu? She brushed her hands against the desks, noticing the disturbance on the otherwise fine layers of dust. Who were those two girls in that picture with him? His sisters? She closed her eyes and inhaled, nearly choking on the thick soot lingering in the air. She felt almost like she was invading his privacy coming here. In a way, she was.

  Elena had decided to use this apartment as their base of operations during their time here at Fongyuan. This place was already cleared of jiāngshī, safe from vultures, and free of Mother Nature’s wrath. In truth, she had hoped to find Zhu here. In any case, they had three days’ worth of supplies to do so. That or find the village and get their scavenge.

  She and Bo had decided to set up camp first, grab some lunch, and then hit the garage. Get the trivial stuff out of the way first so they could concentrate on the real task at hand of finding Zhu.

  The plan for the garage was simple. Bo would lure the jiāngshī away with a distraction, and Elena would drop down and clean the place out. Simple as cobbler, as her mother would say. They had mapped out a reasonably safe route along a stone wall that ran parallel to the garage and then armed Bo with a wooden spoon and a pot. Elena would then climb onto the garage’s roof and wait for his signal. With a little luck, she would be in and out of there without having to stab a single one of the rotten bastards.

  * * *

  After their lunch, they set out for the garage.

  Everything started out exactly as planned. Bo’s clanging reverberated through the entire valley. Elena, kneeling at the roof window, watched as the jiāngshī standing around in the garage perked up and turned toward the commotion. At first, she feared his distraction was working too well. It cleared away not only the jiāngshī inside the garage but just about every single dead within a hundred meters. Even at a distance, she could see Bo’s eyes widen in fear as the jiāngshī converged on him. Bo was a brave man, and he continued to beat the pot as he hurried down the wall like the Pied Piper with the jiāngshī in tow.

  Once the coast was clear, Elena crawled through the narrow window and dropped down. Inside, she found three jiāngshī that hadn’t joined the chase. The first was still trapped under the tractor from the last time they were here. The second was missing its legs and had its arms crushed, so was making little headway. The third had been foiled by one of the toppled shelves, bumping its knee into it over and over again. Elena put all three out of their misery with swift, efficient jabs to their temples, as casually as if she were taking out the trash.

  She was about to get to work when she realized her mistake. The shelf that was directly below the open window had toppled over, and there was now no way for her to get back topside. She cursed. She should have planned for this, and was kicking herself for forgetting such a basic survival rule: never neglect to secure an escape route. She glanced out the hole in the wall that had been the garage door. It was a fifty-meter sprint out of the hole to the nearest place to climb to safety. There was no way she was going to be able to lug two duffels’ worth of supplies that far without getting bogged down.

  Thankfully, inspiration hit soon after. Elena grabbed a carton of filters, three boxes of spark plugs, some cans of oil, and a few other things on the mechanics’ wish list. She had made a point of specifically asking them what they needed in order to get maximum points for this trip. Once one duffel was fully loaded, she placed it directly under the window and tied the straps to a nylon rope. She tied the other end to the fletching of her arrow and then drew it, quietly muttering a thank-you to Bo for convincing her not to waste all her arrows at the ranch
. It was a tight shot, but the arrow sailed effortlessly through the window and disappeared onto the roof. Elena broke into a satisfied grin. Zhu would have been proud. Windmaster Hengyen might have even nodded in approval.

  She began filling the second duffel, loading it up with car batteries. It was a special request from the engineers, so the usually merciless Ming was offering big points. These things were normally too heavy to scavenge, especially from two days away, but that was what a big guy like Bo was for. She realized quickly that these batteries were not only heavy but also dense. Four in a duffel was already too many, and she was forced to drag it on the ground. She opened cabinets and drawers, searching for light items that could fill the empty space: filters, plastic bags, gloves.

  That was when she made a second mistake. In a moment of carelessness and overconfidence, she assumed she was opening a closet door. When it opened, she was met with darkness and a rancid odor that made her stomach twist. An arm shot out, followed by a chorus of choking rasps. Then the door flew all the way open, knocking Elena off her feet. Windmaster Hengyen always told them to assume the worst behind every door. Elena had forgotten that lesson and was now paying the price.

  She crab-crawled backward as jiāngshī spilled into the garage. Within a breath, six of them were climbing and pushing over each other to get to her. Their numbers doubled, and then doubled again. At that point, it didn’t matter how many dead there were. Elena clambered to her feet and rushed to the exit, where, as luck would have it, a small group of jiāngshī was straggling past just as she reached the broken garage doorway.

  Elena skidded to a stop. The jiāngshī changed course and converged on her. She kicked the chest of the lead jiāngshī, a teenager still in his school uniform, and shouldered another—his classmate—aside as she careened toward the tractor, then plowed blindly into the lone still-standing shelf. Her head rang and she staggered sideways, blinking, trying to keep moving as the room swam. She knocked some boxes off the shelf trying to get around it, and found herself completely surrounded.

  Elena reached for her spear and grasped air. She must have dropped it during her tumble. Strike three. At this point, she was questioning if she deserved to get out of this alive. There were five more jiāngshī for every one closing in on her. She bumped up against the shelf again as she retreated. Panic crept up her body and tightened its grip around her throat. For some weird reason, flashes of Custer and Crockett and every other desperate last stand popped into her head. Elena Anderson wasn’t going to die to these stupid dead things without a fight!

  She grabbed the nearest box—it was empty—and bounced it off the uniformed student’s head. She grabbed the one next to it and hurled it to similar effect.

  “Why do they bother stacking empty boxes?” she yelled, tossing another. Oh, it was because her wind team had cleaned them out the first time they were here. Fortunately, there wasn’t time to feel foolish. Elena stared at the shelf. Another of Windmaster Hengyen’s lessons rang in her head: There is always a way forward, a way in, and a way out. If you can’t find one, create one.

  That was when it hit her. Of course. Elena dragged her body through the shelf to the other side. She fell to the ground roughly and rolled to her feet, leaving the jiāngshī staring at her through the narrow shelf. She shouted triumphantly and then extended the middle finger on her right hand at the grasping dead.

  “Don’t mess with Texas, asshole. You don’t know who you’re dealing with, you dumb—”

  The rest of her thoughts escaped her as she stared up at the shelf teetering on its edge, slowly headed in her direction. The metal frame squealed as the jiāngshī on the other side pushed against it, trying to reach her. The boxes and assorted tools and items sitting on it began to slide off. A cardboard box smacked her square in the chest. This one was unfortunately not empty and knocked her onto her backside. An electric drill fell off the shelf next, the drill bit chipping the concrete inches from her head.

  More items began to rain down. An empty paint can bounced off her forehead. A toolbox upended its contents, spilling screwdrivers and wrenches on her. A pair of plumbing pliers bloodied her nose. A box of nails nearly blinded her. Then the shelf toppled over her and emptied the rest of its contents on top of Elena. She did her best to cover up. Hot pain knifed up her leg as part of the shelf bit down onto her ankle. She held down her scream and tried to squirm free, but her leg was trapped. The harder she pulled, the deeper the metal cut into her flesh.

  “Stay calm, stay calm,” she whispered, feeling her hot breath in this claustrophobic space. There was always a way out. She just had to figure it out. If not, Bo would come back for her. He would never abandon her. Not like they had abandoned Zhu in this very same place. Elena really hated this garage.

  She laid her head back down and looked off to the side, noticing a sliver of light along the floor. It was the door leading to the alley, the one she had used to climb in the first time. She snaked one hand into the box above her head and wielded it as a buckler against the grasping swipes of the jiāngshī. With her other hand, she managed to curl her fingers around the bottom of the door. If she could pull herself free, maybe she could sneak out that way. If there weren’t another ten jiāngshī waiting on the other side.

  The rustling around her continued, and then briefly, it sounded like the jiāngshī had moved on. Elena froze. Maybe if she stayed still enough, the jiāngshī would get bored and wander off. She didn’t dare make a sound, she didn’t dare breathe.

  A sudden hard blow to the side of the box knocked it away from her face. A jiāngshī, a long-haired young woman missing part of her forehead, looked down at Elena with empty black eye sockets. Elena stared back; it was like looking into the abyss. It bent over and reached for her with clawed fingers. Elena swore as she grabbed its wrist with one hand and batted at it with the other. At the same time, she wondered how this thing could see without eyes. Elena managed to punch the jiāngshī square in the nose, caving it in. Its head began to leak through nearly every opening, oozing chunks of brain matter, blood, veins, and broken bits of bone.

  Elena gagged as all of this splattered onto her face. She turned aside, squeezing her eyes shut and pursing her lips, careful not to ingest any jiāngshī gunk while simultaneously trying to clear her vision and fight the jiāngshī off as its innards rained down upon her.

  In the distance the sound of Bo banging the pan grew fainter. At least he was still alive.

  * * *

  Zhu sped toward the commotion. He didn’t know what the hell Elena and Bo were doing, but from what he observed, it was clearly a bad plan. The ruckus was so loud it had probably attracted every jiāngshī in the village. He wouldn’t have been surprised if these two managed to whip up a storm.

  Zhu was about to turn toward the edge of town to follow the noise when he stopped. He knew exactly what their plan was. Why was he following the diversion? He reached the edge of the village and crept through the thickets, sneaking by a dozen jiāngshī shuffling along a stone wall as if they were on patrol. He found a relatively quiet corner and ambushed two jiāngshī, lopping off the head of one and pulling the arm off the other, throwing it off balance. He took a leg out from under it and brought the point of his machete down on its face.

  He began to make his way toward the garage when the banging picked up its beat and became more frantic, then stopped altogether. Sounds of screams replaced it, not of pain and suffering, but of terror. It was Bo, and he was in trouble!

  Zhu changed course and sped straight toward his friend. Elena was smart and competent enough that she probably didn’t need his help right this very moment, but Bo definitely did. Zhu ran haphazardly against the steep spines of the roof, sliding down one side and hurdling across a narrow alley, one foot barely catching the edge. He scrambled onto all fours and kept running. Bo’s panic continued to fill the air.

  Zhu found him in a few seconds. He had climbed onto an old water wheel at the edge of the river and was balancing precariously a
t the top as jiāngshī surrounded him. The wheel swung back and forth, causing him to balance unsteadily as the jiāngshī crowded closer in.

  Zhu, hunched on the nearby roof, waved his arms. “Bo!”

  The big guy, hands clutching the paddles to maintain his balance, looked up. He looked confused and then brightened. “Xiăodì, you’re alive!” He removed a hand to wave, but thought better of it and grabbed back onto the wheel to hold on for dear life.

  “Jump into the water,” yelled Zhu. “Hurry!”

  Bo shook his head. “I can’t swim.”

  “I thought you were from the country,” he yelled back.

  “Lake water is always so dirty.”

  Zhu couldn’t believe it. “You really aren’t suited to survive an apocalypse,” he muttered. Finally, he raised his voice again. “Jump. I’ll fish you out.”

  Bo stared at the murky green water, then back at the jiāngshī as if trying to decide which he preferred. He made a face. “You promise?”

  Zhu nodded urgently. The joints of the water wheel were starting to crack and splinter. It would likely be a matter of seconds before the wheel either crumbled or toppled. Bo took a few false starts before finally holding his nose and mouth with one hand and stepping off. He plummeted straight into the water just as the jiāngshī pushed over the water wheel. It toppled directly over where he landed, and for a moment Zhu feared it had crushed his friend.

  He let out a relieved breath when Bo’s large round head broke the water’s surface farther downstream a few seconds later. “Help! Help, xiăodì!” he screamed, his arms furiously pounding the water.

  Zhu gave himself a running start before he jumped off the end of the roof after his friend. The shock of cold was momentarily paralyzing, and then he swam after Bo, who was getting swept farther downstream. It didn’t take long, but by the time he reached Bo, he was exhausted. Bo’s flailing didn’t help. The larger man grabbed onto him and dragged both of them underwater for a few seconds. His panicked grip was viselike as he anchored Zhu down.