Robert Kirkman's The Walking Dead: Typhoon

by Chu, Wesley

  Zhu scrambled back to his feet. The world was still wobbly. He probably should have taken more time to recover. He tried to surprise Wangfa while the guy was still monologuing with the cigar in his mouth. All four of his punches fell woefully short. His efforts were rewarded with a punch to his gut that doubled him over. A whoosh left his lips as Zhu fell onto all fours. A nudge from the defensemaster’s boot put him back on the ground.

  Wangfa shook his head mockingly. “Your problem, Wenzhu, is that you only learned how to fight jiāngshī. You haven’t had to deal with an opponent who thinks. You just fight decomposing punching bags that occasionally bite back. You never had to worry about telegraphing your movements or feinting or watching for counters.” Wangfa was so busy bragging that he nearly missed Bo’s attack from behind. He noticed at the very last second and tried to jump out of the way. Bo’s long, looping punch found Wangfa’s jaw with an audible crack, sending the cigar flying from his mouth. The defensemaster staggered as Bo pulled his arm back for another swing. Unfortunately, it was a long windup, and Wangfa managed to recover quickly enough to duck. The punch flew harmlessly over his head. Wangfa spun low and shot his foot out, sweeping Bo’s leg from under him.

  The defensemaster stood up, rubbing his jaw. “And you, Bo, you might be strong but you’re as slow as a jiāngshī.” He walked over to his dropped cigar and scowled at it sitting extinguished in a muddy puddle.

  Zhu and Bo took this opportunity to scramble back to their feet. Bo picked up his sledgehammer, and offered Zhu his dagger. Both men brandished their weapons and circled the defensemaster on opposite sides.

  Wangfa finally drew his long knife and flicked it casually at his waist. “You’re finally using your heads. Next time—” he hesitated. “Well, there won’t be a next time.”

  “You talk too much,” Zhu growled.

  They came at him again. The sledgehammer just missed his head and then he was within range of Zhu’s dagger. Wangfa parried Zhu’s thrust and then dabbed the tip of his blade into Zhu’s shoulder as he spun away, causing Zhu to stumble as his shoulder gave way.

  “You exposed your neck just now,” Wangfa quipped. “I could have ended you right—”

  His chatter was cut off as Bo roared and charged him like a rampaging bull. Wangfa barely avoided the first two swings. It looked as if he wouldn’t be able to dodge the third when he suddenly changed directions and pounced, slicing Bo’s side open just as the shaft of the sledgehammer struck him in the ribs. Both men bounced off each other and fell to the ground.

  Wangfa grimaced as he rolled to his feet, holding his ribs and sucking in shallow breaths. At least they managed to hurt him. Zhu tried to take advantage, getting into Wangfa’s face and drawing blood with a slash just below his eye. Another slash nearly sliced his belly open, but the defensemaster turned away in time.

  He retaliated with a cut to Zhu’s thigh that buckled his legs. Zhu shot back with a clumsy punch that clipped Wangfa’s shoulder, but these were desperate strikes. He had already spent most of his energy.

  Wangfa pulled Zhu’s arm away from his body and torqued his elbow in an unnatural angle. Fresh waves of pain crawled up Zhu’s arm as he screamed, the dagger slipping from his grasp. Another blow to his eye sent him back to the ground. Wangfa towered over him, his knife dripping with blood. He pressed a blade down on Zhu’s neck.

  “You two actually hurt me. I’m impressed. Bo did all the work. You were just a distraction.” He pressed the tip of his blade to the soft part of Zhu’s neck. “As a reward for your efforts, I’ll make your death quick.”

  “No!” The roar was earth-shattering.

  Wangfa moved instinctually, flinging his knife at the source of the sound. The shout was cut short, replaced by a grunt and labored wheezing. Zhu looked to the side and saw the sledgehammer slip from Bo’s hands as he gripped the hilt of the knife embedded in his chest. He staggered a few steps and then collapsed onto his side.

  A sigh escaped Wangfa’s lips as he walked over and studied his handiwork. Bo spasmed as blood spilled from his mouth in spurts. His eyes were alert. He looked worried.

  “Defensemaster,” he pleaded in between short breaths. “Please spare Wenzhu.”

  Wangfa tsked. “You’re too good for this world, Bo.” He pulled the knife from Bo’s chest and plunged it into his head. “You deserve to rest in peace, you dumb ox.”

  The shine in Ming Haobo’s eyes dimmed. His eyes lost focus and stared off into nothing. A moan escaped Zhu’s lips as his heart ached for his friend. “No, you bastard.”

  Wangfa turned to him. “You’re the one responsible for Bo’s death. You killed him.”

  “You’re the one who stuck a knife in his chest. I’m going to offer you the same send-off.” Zhu pawed the ground for his dropped dagger.

  The defensemaster stomped over and kicked the blade spinning out of reach. When Zhu tried to stand, he smashed Zhu in the nose with a knee. Fresh blood sprayed everywhere. Wangfa wrapped his fingers around his neck and began to squeeze. Zhu tried to beat him back, but he had nothing left. His struggles weakened as everything slowly grew dark.

  A part of him desperately hoped to see a vision of his family as he died, inviting him to join them in the afterlife. Instead, all he saw was Wangfa’s cruel curling lips scowling as he squeezed his neck tighter.

  Just as his consciousness was fading, a strident voice rang through the air. “What is the meaning of this!”

  26 FOR THE LIVING REVOLUTION

  Hengyen walked over to Wangfa choking a seemingly already unconscious Wenzhu. He grabbed a fistful of the defensemaster’s collar and yanked him off, sending the him tumbling to the ground. Hengyen surveyed the carnage: a bloodied head of defense; a traitorous, possibly dead windrunner; and poor old Haobo lying off to the side. A curse escaped his lips. Haobo was a good man.

  He rounded on Wangfa. “You’re the defensemaster of the Beacon of Light. You are supposed to be leading the fight against the jiāngshī, not rolling in the mud while the settlement is under siege. Act your rank.”

  “These traitors were trying to escape,” Wangfa said, pointing at Wenzhu, who was just starting to come around.

  “Who cares! The Beacon is under attack and her leader is nowhere to be found. Didn’t you hear the alert?” Hengyen pointed up toward the sky at the panicked loudspeaker. It had been blaring for several minutes already: “Emergency warning. The jiāngshī have broken through the walls. They are swarming the inner court. All guards and windrunners are required at the front. Repeat. The jiāngshī have broken through…”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Hengyen noticed Wenzhu get to his feet and stagger away. Wangfa noticed too and moved as if to chase him down. Hengyen pushed him away. “Forget the traitor. We have to save the settlement.”

  He dragged the head of defense of the Beacon of Light with him toward the south wall.

  Along the way, they passed hundreds of people fleeing in the other direction. Hengyen tried to rally those close to him, but it was a losing effort. The settlement was in full panic. Fear was contagious. He tried to stop a group from passing, but the cowards just ran around him.

  Hengyen refused to join them. He gritted his teeth and continued toward the battle. Running away did little except delay the inevitable. There was nowhere safe to go, no place to retreat. There was only one thing to do if any of them were to survive.

  Hengyen grabbed Lin as the man tried to flee. “Wrong way, windrunner.”

  Lin tried to break free. “They’re pouring through by the hundreds. We’re all going to die!”

  Hengyen held on tightly. “Then die like a patriot. Fight alongside your brothers and sisters. Make your death count.”

  Lin looked indecisive to the point of being frozen. He looked back the way he had come before finally taking a deep gulp and nodding. “I’m with you, dàgē.”

  “Good man.” Hengyen turned to his other side. “Defensemaster Wangfa, head to the southwestern…” He was speaking to air. Hengyen curs
ed. Wangfa was no longer there. He must have slipped away while Hengyen was busy marshaling their people for the counterattack. “Coward,” he muttered. Just as quickly, the former defensemaster of the Beacon of Light was forgotten. They had a settlement to protect.

  Hengyen hurried to a loudspeaker station and projected his voice across the entire settlement. “This is Windmaster Ying Hengyen. This will be my final broadcast. To my people of the Living Revolution, now is the time to stand with your brothers and sisters. This is the moment where you choose if you wish to succumb and walk with the dead, or stand against them. This is not only for yourself or your family or your countrymen. This is for every living soul in this Land Under Heaven.

  “The time to run has long passed. I regret to tell you that escape is no longer an option. All we can do now is fight and resist death’s onslaught. Be strong. Stand shoulder to shoulder with your fellow patriots. Show the dead that we intend to carve a future not only for our sons and daughters but for their children as well. That stand must begin here, now, or else there will be no tomorrows for which to fight. Who will stand by my side?”

  The crowd close to him roared. It was a rousing speech. Whether it inspired the rest of the Beacon remained to be seen. Hengyen drew his blades and continued walking with his head high toward the front line with the crowd growing behind him. They picked their way against the current, calling out and grabbing any brave soul and challenging them to stand with the Living Revolution to their dying breaths. Most continued to flee, but there were still a few courageous souls left. Within a minute, a dozen brave people were standing with him. Within five, a hundred.

  More and more joined them every second. Some must have realized there was no place they could go. Others wanted to die fighting. Most, however, had just been missing leadership and direction. Hengyen called several orders: five people here to defend the alley, three at the intersection to erect a barricade, six more to plug the entrance of a container leading to the wall. He took his place at the front of the line. To both sides, the defenders stood grim-faced as the jiāngshī’s buzzing filled the air. The sounds were soon joined by the echoes of footsteps on metal as the shipping containers in front rattled.

  “Stay close! Shoulder-to-shoulder. Watch your footing. Close that door. Flip that wagon and block the alley. Lace barbed wire over the fencing. Do not fail your brothers and sisters!” Hengyen stayed at the center, shouting orders and trying to rally the people around him. “The living will stand against the darkness. We will keep the Land Under Heaven alive.” He finally realized he was shouting to himself. The battle was a frenzied melee.

  A jiāngshī appeared out of a tent to their left. It was felled by an old woman holding an ax. Three more appeared in front, squeezing through the narrow gap between two containers. They were met by two guards. More came from all sides, from behind buildings, from inside containers and over barricades. The noise was coming from every direction. Someone in the back shouted a warning as five jiāngshī appeared from behind. Another warning as a dozen fell from the wall. The dead came at the living from every side.

  Hengyen encountered a group of three jiāngshī, his knives flashing in the fading light. One blade punctured an eye socket, another entered the soft flesh under a jaw. He yanked knives back and kicked the third in the chest, sending it tumbling backward and knocking over two more jiāngshī in the process. He hurdled over their bodies to take on another group of enemies. At the same time, the people behind him pounced on the fallen jiāngshī, stabbing them with whatever weapons they had on hand.

  A jiāngshī nearly ended his battle when it stepped off the roof of a shipping container and almost fell on top of him. He was saved, however, by the guard and windrunner fighting alongside him. One pulled him away to safety while the other plunged a sword into the creature’s skull.

  “Thank you, Fang, Shanshan,” he said in between deep breaths

  “It is the greatest honor of my life to fight by your side, dàgē,” Fang declared.

  Shanshan nodded, holding up her spear. “For the Living Revolution.”

  Hengyen nodded and took the opportunity to reassess the situation. It looked grim.

  A seemingly endless number of jiāngshī continued to encroach on the living. They were an unstoppable force of nature. Waves of the dead swept over the walls and buildings like an ocean storm over the shores, washing over the containers and barricades and people, knocking over tents and fortifications with equal ease. Soon the entire area was a boil of close combat, the last of the Beacon of Light’s defenders fighting against the inevitable. More of his people fell. No matter how much and how hard they fought, the jiāngshī continued to advance.

  Hengyen was still trying to devise a plan when the inevitable finally dawned on him. It was over. This was the end. It didn’t matter anymore. There was only one thing left to do. Only one thing left they could do.

  Ying Hengyen, captain of the Falcon commando unit of the Armed Police Force of the People’s Liberation Army, Windmaster of the Beacon of Light, gripped his knives and raised his arms in the air. With a loud battle cry, he charged into the heart of the typhoon.

  27 THE ESCAPE

  Zhu hobbled toward the cable transport as fast as his busted-up body could move. He hoped he wasn’t too late. Still, he had accomplished what he had set out to do, which was delay Defensemaster Wangfa and give the villagers and Elena time to escape. He was surprised he had survived the fight. Wangfa had thrashed him thoroughly.

  His thoughts flashed to Bo. His knees weakened and he was temporarily overwhelmed with a deep sense of loss. Bo had been his good friend long before any of this horror had been inflicted upon them. Through it all, the big man had been a steadfast friend: loyal to a fault, kind beyond all others, and beloved by everyone who knew him. He was among the people who had suffered the deepest losses, yet somehow found a way to never lose his hope and happiness.

  The only thing that prevented Zhu from falling to his knees and weeping was the immense pain cutting into seemingly every part of his body. It reminded him that he was still alive and in danger. That although Bo was gone, there were still Meili and the villagers. And Elena. Bo’s spirit would never forgive him if Zhu wasted this opportunity to save these people because he was too preoccupied with self-pity. If Zhu could have taken Bo’s place, he would have gladly. But since he couldn’t, the only thing he could do now was honor his friend’s sacrifice.

  He continued along the settlement’s outer wall, occasionally leaning on it for support. His leg wasn’t doing well. It’s a miracle the defensemaster hadn’t slashed a major artery. The world was swaying, making walking in a straight line surprisingly difficult. Zhu was pretty sure both his jaw and nose were broken, and one of his eardrums ruptured. His entire face was numb with pain, and the blood congealing in his throat made it difficult to breathe. If he survived today, he foresaw drinking his meals for the next few weeks.

  Several guards rushed past him. Zhu stepped to the side and bowed his head, but it didn’t appear necessary. They were in an awful hurry, and none gave him a second glance. One looked familiar, and Zhu expected that the woman would have recognized him if it were not for his freshly rearranged face. That was a positive spin on the beating Wangfa had given him.

  Zhu continued to hug the wall and move through cover, doing his best to stay unobtrusive, but it appeared unnecessary. Something bad was happening to the south, but his vision was so blurry he could barely see more than a few meters ahead. He reached the catwalk to the cable transport and found it abandoned. Where were the guards? If Elena and the villagers had gotten here first, where were the signs of struggle? Where were the bodies?

  He climbed the stairs, fearful of what he’d see at the top. It had been heavily fortified when they came in. Maybe the villagers were battling guards. Perhaps they had already escaped. Maybe they were already torn to pieces, and all he would encounter once he reached the parapet were their jiāngshī. Every subsequent thought was worse than the one before
.

  He hurried up the stairs as fast as he could, doing away with his usual caution. No sooner had he reached the top than someone tackled him, which wasn’t so hard, considering. Rough hands pawed at his shoulder and waist and dragged him to the ground. A blurry figure appeared and kicked him in the stomach, doubling him over.

  “Take that, you ugly húndàn.” Another blow to the face nearly loosened his consciousness from his body. That voice sounded familiar, though.

  “Huangyi, it’s me, Zhu.” Talking hurt like hell. Each word shot pain up his skull, jabbing mercilessly into his brain.

  “Chen-shūshu, is that you? What happened to your face?”

  Zhu grunted as the teenager helped him to his feet. “That’s twice you’ve kicked me in the stomach.”

  “Sorry,” said Huangyi, actually sounding sincere. “Hey, Meili, it’s Zhu.”

  That caused a small commotion, and Meili flew into his arms. “We thought you were dead.”

  He held her tightly for a few seconds, and then leaned on her for support. He looked over her shoulder, scanning the faces present. He frowned. “Where is everyone? Why are there so few people here?”

  Meili pulled away and pointed at the horizon past the Charred Fields. “Most have already crossed. We’ve been going in small groups.”

  “Everyone made it?”

  “We’re still missing the twelve people I never found.” She turned her gaze toward the settlement as if desperately hoping to catch sight of their missing people at that moment.

  He squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t think about them. Think about the people you’ve saved. These people owe you their lives.”

  That was when Zhu’s eyes finally landed on who he was really looking for. Elena was standing by the platform’s controls. Her eyes were locked on him, her face a mix of relief and continuing worry. Zhu let go of Meili, and they walked toward Elena through the remaining villagers.