Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead: Typhoon

by Chu, Wesley

  Elena ground her teeth. What was she doing asking things she already knew? It was stupid and only reopened sore wounds. “This is stupid,” she muttered.

  “But we were never…” Meili fumbled over the words. “… sweethearts. Wenzhu’s sister is my best friend. Her name is Ahui.”

  Something Meili said gave her pause. “Wait—Zhu’s sister is your best friend? She’s alive? Is she here, or still back at that valley?”

  Meili clammed up again. Of course the woman wouldn’t say anything, especially after what the wind team had done to her village.

  Still, everything became clear. It hit Elena like a punch in the gut. Zhu hadn’t been with another woman so much as reconnecting with the people from his home village. He had found the very thing she longed so much for. Could she hate him for that? “What have I done?” She had been so angry she had fed into whatever fit that narrative. The secretary had fanned that rage. She had never given Zhu the chance to explain himself. Now they were all doomed. This was all her fault.

  Elena clenched her fist. “Listen to me, Meili. I’m relieving you of your duty right now. Go find the rest of your people who are out right now and send them back to their cells. Can you do that and have everyone back in an hour?”

  “But—”

  “No time to discuss this. Go!”

  Elena watched as the woman hurried off. She had to go see Zhu. She had to make things right. But first, there was one more thing she had to do.

  25 REDEMPTION

  Zhu sat in the corner with his knees pulled to his chest and stared at the scrawled lines on the ribbed container wall just outside his cage. The previous occupant had been in here for seven groupings of five, exactly thirty-five days. That meant this person must have either assaulted someone or disparaged a party member, and only if they had a relatively valuable skill. There was no way the Beacon would keep someone fed and taken care of for long without getting something out of them. If they had committed murder or were not a useful person, the Beacon would have sent them to the Charred Fields or banished them from the settlement.

  He frowned. That made Ming setting him to penance all the more insulting.

  The rest of the villagers were crammed in the shipping containers next door. At least they were there when they were not hard at work. The guards had wasted no time putting the villagers to work in shifts, forcing them to help build barricades, serve food, and clear bodies. Zhu had just returned from burning bodies with the second shift of villagers. Every six or so hours, half of the village would get pulled out of the cage with the threat that if they tried to escape or disobey, the rest of their kin would be killed.

  He would much rather be fighting jiāngshī, but the guards deemed him too dangerous to give him a weapon. They put him in one of the private cages to prevent him from inciting a rebellion. He lay down and stretched his feet, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t mind being in here. This dog kennel was essentially the same size as his pod and certainly less noisy. Less noxious, for that matter. At least these cells got hosed down periodically.

  The problem with being trapped here with nothing to do was it gave his worried mind room to run. Death was probably coming to collect him soon, so he tried to spend his last moments in this world trying to make his peace. Unsuccessfully. Regret and shame filled his hours. He wished he could see his family once more and apologize for not being there for them. He wished he could make amends with Elena. He knew how much she had lost because of him. He wished he had never found the village so his people wouldn’t be trapped here in the Beacon with the typhoon at their doorsteps. Most of all, he wished he could see Ahui one more time. Knowing she might still be alive warmed his soul. Knowing he was so close but would likely never see her again broke his heart.

  When Zhu wasn’t beating himself up about his poorly led life, he filled the rest of his brain space with the sense of impending dread and doom. The noise from just outside these thin walls didn’t help matters either. Zhu could hear just enough to know things weren’t going well. Occasional screams, shouts, explosions. Muffled, panicked conversations just outside his shipping container. Whatever information he couldn’t glean from those noises, his runaway daydreams filled in. If reality was anything like his imagination, the Beacon was in deep trouble.

  Zhu was just contemplating the worst scenario he could think of when the container door rumbled open. He called out to the lone guard tasked with watching all the prisoners. “Hey, Jianping; about time. I haven’t pissed since…”

  Bo’s big lumpy head appeared through the entrance. His wide ear-to-ear smile lit up the otherwise dark room. “Xiăodì!”

  Zhu scrambled to his feet so fast he banged his head on the top of his cage. His fingers clasped around the bars. “Bo, you’re alive! I’m so glad to see you.” He did a double take. “What happened to your face?”

  Bo grinned. “They took my points, and you weren’t around, so I couldn’t get a haircut or shave.” The big man pawed at a faint five o’clock shadow around his mouth.

  “No, I mean why is it all purple and bruised?”

  The big man looked away, crestfallen. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  Zhu clasped hands with Bo through the bars. “I’m so glad you’re all right. What are you doing here? Jianping said I wasn’t allowed to have visitors. Did the windmaster change his mind?”

  “Not that I know of.” Bo became apprehensive and looked back toward the doorway. “Someone wants to see you.”

  Elena stepped into view. “Hello, Wenzhu.”

  Her face was red, and she looked worn down. Deep lines were etched into her forehead, and her hair was mussed and tangled. Her clothes were stained. Elena was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

  Zhu scowled, his fingers tightening around his bars. “Here to finish me off, Elena?”

  “Now, xiăodì,” said Bo. “Hear her out. She saved me.”

  “She led a wind team straight to the hidden village,” snapped Zhu, not taking his eyes off her. “She doomed innocent people. My people!” He shook his head. “Worse, she believed the secretary’s word over my own.” Elena cast her eyes downward.

  “She told me everything,” said Bo. “That’s why we came. We’re here to make things right.”

  “You can’t make things right!” he roared. “People died during the raid, and everyone who was captured will die here with the rest of the Beacon.”

  “They don’t have to.” Elena produced a key. “I can’t undo my mistake, but I can do what I can to fix it. You can take the villagers and escape.”

  Zhu stared at the key. “How did you get that? What happened to Jianping?”

  Elena held a bloodied knife in her other hand. “I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m asking you to let me help you escape.”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Open the gate.” He didn’t trust her. He doubted he ever could again, but it wasn’t like he had a better alternative. What was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like she could betray him again. Well, she could, but he was basically already suffering through the worst-case scenario. Still, he half expected a wind team to burst in when she unlocked the door. When Zhu walked out, Elena backed away, fearing his wrath.

  Zhu clenched his fist and turned away. “Where are the villagers?”

  “They’re being held in the group cells one container block over.” Bo poked his head out the doorway. “We checked it before we came. One of the Xing twins is watching over them.”

  “Luhong?” Zhu gave his prison one last glance as the three left the shipping container and moved along its wall in single file.

  Bo, taking lead, stopped at the corner and raised a hand. “No, he’s dead.”

  Zhu’s mouth dropped open. “Oh no. When?”

  “Over a month ago, Zhu. Right after you went missing the first time. Elena and I got back just in time to attend a little ceremony for him. He was everyone’s favorite.”

  Zhu sighed. “I really liked him. His brother, not so much.”
>
  “Tell me about it. At least we won’t feel so bad about knocking him out.” Bo pointed at the building in the far corner of a small clearing. “Your villagers are being held in there. The guard house is over there off to the side. The húndàn twin should be there with the keys.”

  “What does húndàn mean again?” asked Elena.

  “Like what you Americans call an asshole.” Zhu looked at the two buildings adjacent to their target. “What about the other vultures? We can’t just leave them.”

  Bo frowned. “Wait a minute. I thought ‘asshole’ was a good thing, Elena.”

  Elena ignored him. “Zhu, I know what you want to do, but we can’t bring everyone with us. I don’t think we can even get all your villagers out.”

  Zhu looked as if he was going to argue, and then relented. “We have to try, at least.”

  The three waited until the coast was clear. There weren’t many people walking about in this corner of the settlement. Most were vultures returning from their duties. Zhu doubted any of them cared what they were up to. The few who noticed shot them contemptuous glares and gave them a wide berth. They reached the guardhouse and huddled around the entrance.

  “How do we get the keys from the húndàn twin?” asked Bo. They exchanged glances.

  “Well, I’m certainly out of the question, unless you want to use me as bait,” said Zhu.

  “I can tell him this is my new assignment and relieve him,” said Bo.

  Zhu shook his head. “He’ll never buy it.”

  “I can just stand outside and scream for help,” Elena suggested.

  “He’d probably just stay inside and listen to you scream,” said Zhu. “Then someone else will come and make things worse.”

  In the end, they kept it simple. Elena rushed through the guardhouse door, sounding panicked but not loud enough to attract too much attention. “Help, there are four jiāngshī just outside.” They had agreed on four, which was enough for it to be dangerous for one person but easy to handle with two.

  When the húndàn twin followed her outside—no one could remember his name—Zhu and Bo were waiting on both sides of the doorway. Zhu’s punch to the jaw should have dropped him, but he was tougher than he looked. The man staggered and blindly lashed out, clipping Zhu across the side of the head. Fortunately, Bo was there, wrapping him into a choke hold and squeezing with his big beefy arms until the húndàn went limp. They dragged him back into the guardhouse and trussed him up. Elena patted him down and produced a ring of keys.

  They hurried to the container, where all the villagers were crammed into three cells. They appeared to be expecting to be saved and cheered when Zhu appeared. He was relieved to see Meili standing near the center gate waiting, and he was shocked—and a little disturbed and anxious—when Elena walked straight up to her. Several of the villagers were openly glaring at her.

  “Is this everyone?” asked Elena, fumbling for the right key. “Did you find your people?”

  Meili shook her head. “There’s still twelve out there. I couldn’t find them. We can’t leave until we do.”

  “There’s no time,” said Elena. “I’m sorry.”

  “Wait, how do you two know each other?” Zhu asked Meili.

  “She was the one who told me to gather everyone and prepare to leave.”

  As soon as the gate opened, the villagers streamed out. Guan, a middle-aged man, grabbed Elena and pinned her against the wall. “You killed my son, you white devil.”

  Before Zhu could jump in and prevent the situation from escalating, Bo intervened and escalated the situation even more. He roared, his voice carrying loudly inside the container, and charged the man, knocking half a dozen people over before getting between Elena and Guan.

  “Don’t you dare touch my xiăomèi,” he snarled.

  Guan did not appear to be intimidated by Bo and punched him in the stomach. If Bo felt anything, he didn’t show it. Everyone around went in for Bo, and he shoved back.

  “Stop!” cried Zhu, frantically trying to separate them. No one listened.

  The middle-aged Guan was nearly berserk with grief, punching and kicking, trying to lunge past Bo to get to Elena. Bo defended her with ferocity, throwing wide ham-fisted punches at anyone who got too close. Elena made no move to defend herself. She just stood behind her friend, her eyes downcast. One of Guan’s wild punches clipped her in the shoulder, causing her to stumble.

  Zhu didn’t know he still felt this way, but the moment he saw Guan strike her, he went blind with rage and plowed into the fracas. Fortunately, one calmer head with an extra loud pair of pipes prevailed.

  “Stop it!” Meili screamed. Her voice echoed across the container. Everyone froze. One by one, they all turned to face her. “Do you all want to die here, or be slaves to the Beacon?” When no one answered, she continued. “Now, Guan, we all love Jincai and miss him terribly, but he wouldn’t want you to die. He definitely wouldn’t want you to endanger the rest of the village.”

  Tears rolled down Guan’s face. He shook his head, deflated, the fight leaving him as quickly as it had come.

  “We have a plan to get all of you out,” said Elena quickly. “It’ll be dark soon. Most of the guards are busy trying to plug the hole in the collapsed wall. I can lead you to the cable transport around the back way. If we hurry, we can overwhelm the guards and sneak everyone out before they realize we’re gone.”

  Meili stepped up next to Elena and took charge, ordering the rest of the village to stay quiet and follow Elena closely. The pair exuded firm authority. Everyone immediately complied. Zhu found himself following their orders automatically.

  He joined Bo to check if the coast was clear, and then they moved, quickly making their way around the back of the container to a narrow alley between the north wall and the purification plant. Zhu stopped at the doorway to the adjacent container. The Smokers were being held there, and the Heaven Monks in the one next to it. He took several steps toward it when Elena grabbed him by the collar.

  “We can’t rescue everyone. If you try, chances are no one will make it out alive.”

  Zhu cursed again, but stopped. The group of fifty or so continued, moving in twos and threes through the narrow gaps between shipping containers, cutting through the area the Beacon used as a landfill and then creeping through a narrow stretch of cornfields that bordered the west wall. They had just left the field and were making their way through the final stretch behind a row of tents that led to a rarely used catwalk when someone, hidden in the shadows, coughed.

  Zhu looked off to the side and blanched. Wangfa was sitting on a broken bench smoking a cigar. The defensemaster gave the group of villagers a bemused look, his gaze briefly locking on Zhu before settling on Elena. He took another puff and then carefully removed a box from his lap and placed it to the side.

  He stood up, brushing his hands off and taking the cigar out of his mouth. “I’ve been saving those cigars. Pilfered them from the governor’s office when that dog tried to run away. Thought I’d put them to good use and smoke them when the time is right.” He shrugged and tried to pronounce the cigar’s name. “Art-too-ros… Foon… fun… tes. They look expensive. The way I see it, now is as good a time to smoke it as any.”

  “Defensemaster—” said Elena.

  Wangfa held up a hand. “Shut up. All of you return to your cells right now. You better get some rest because I’m putting you all on the front line for a double shift.”

  She tried again. “Please, let these people—”

  “If I have to repeat myself, all of you will stay at the front line tomorrow until you’re all dead.”

  “Staying here is a death sentence, Defensemaster,” Bo pleaded.

  “I’m the most disappointed in you, Ming Haobo, taking the side of these vultures. You were always a stupid fool.” Wangfa shook his head. “Frankly, I don’t blame any of you for trying to leave. I’d like to escape this death trap as well but that bastard Hengyen has the entire place locked down. Not even I can le
ave, so as long as I’m here, you are all staying as well. All of you return to your cells. Now!”

  “No.” Zhu picked up a sawed-off piece of lumber lying nearby. “Elena, get them out of here. I’ll take care of Wangfa.”

  “Zhu, you can’t,” she said.

  “Go, I’ll catch up.”

  Bo moved next to him and drew his sledgehammer. “Don’t worry, xiăoméi. I’ll make sure Zhu is all right.”

  Elena hesitated, and then threw her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. A moment later, the sounds of movement and fifty pairs of footsteps faded into the distance. Zhu didn’t take his eyes off Wangfa as he hefted the lumber in his hand. It was shorter and heavier than his machete, but it would have to do.

  He took a deep breath and glanced over at Bo. “In case something happens, you’ll always be my brother, my friend.”

  Bo grinned and raised his sledgehammer. “And you’ll always be my best friend, xiăodì.”

  They confronted the defensemaster together.

  Wangfa looked amused as he casually took another puff of his cigar. He made a show of cracking his neck and loosening his shoulders as they approached. He didn’t even bother reaching for the knives at his belt. “Are you fools actually going to test me?”

  Zhu reached him first, waving his lumber over his head like a sword. He aimed for Wangfa’s head, and was surprised when the defensemaster, instead of dodging the attack, stepped into the swing. The lower third of the lumber bounced ineffectually off Wangfa’s shoulder. He retaliated with an uppercut that lifted Zhu’s feet off the ground. His head snapped back and the world spun as he crashed into the mud.

  He must have also dropped his lumber because Wangfa plucked it out of the air just in time to block Bo’s attack. The big man brought the sledgehammer down, pushing the defensemaster back and banging away at the piece of lumber until it cracked. Then, Wangfa kicked his foot out as Bo pressed his attack, sending him sprawling flat on his stomach.

  Wangfa took another puff of his cigar. “You idiots think you can take me on? You may be an above-average windrunner, Zhu, and your mother may have mated with an ox, Bo, but I’m career military. I’ve been fighting since before your balls dropped.”