In the narrow tunnel, the initial smell of dust soon gave way to a stronger stench of mold and rotting meat, making everyone feel nauseous. Water droplets seeped from the walls, slowly dripping down the rock crevices, their echoes magnified in the darkness, like someone whispering eerie, unknown words.
The water level gradually rose, reaching their ankles, icy cold. Each step felt like treading on something soft and slippery, as if they were sinking into a decaying swamp, sending shivers down their spines.
Jerry clung tightly to Mo Wen's backpack, his breathing growing more rapid, barely able to suppress his fear."This place... it's terrifying," he whispered, his voice trembling.
Sima frowned, his tone tinged with impatience,"If you're so scared, why did you come?"
"I... I..." Jerry opened his mouth but couldn't find the words, his lips quivering.
Just then, Mo Wen suddenly stopped, frowning as he looked to the side."Wait."
Everyone held their breath, the silence only broken by the sound of dripping water—drip, drip... each drop felt like it was pounding on their hearts, making time seem slow and oppressive.
"What's wrong?" Jerry whispered, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily.
Mo Wen squinted slightly, raised his torch closer to the wall, and gently brushed his fingers over the damp moss, stopping at a hidden mark. His fingers traced the indentation."Here..." he said, his voice heavy with seriousness,"Someone's been here."
Jerry frowned,"What do you mean?"
"Look, these claw marks are fresh."
At that moment, Jerry's foot hit something hard. His heart raced, and he instinctively pulled Mo Wen in front of him.
"Hey—" Mo Wen shook him off, glancing at him before raising the torch to see. His pupils suddenly contracted, and he gasped.
"Ahhh—!" Jerry's scream nearly shook the tunnel, as he stumbled back, splashing the icy water.
"Don't move!" Mo Wen quickly grabbed him, fearing he might step on something worse. Fighting the urge to shiver, he crouched down to examine the shadow in the water.
It was a corpse.
The military uniform, soaked for days, clung tightly to the skeleton. But the most horrifying part was the neck wound, as if some beast had torn it apart, exposing the white trachea.
"Ugh..." Sima, who had been relatively calm, turned pale at the sight of the face, nearly slipping into the water.
"Hey!" Mo Wen pulled him back, his temple throbbing,"I'm scared too! But you all... you're making it impossible to stay calm!"
Jerry trembled like a leaf, gripping Mo Wen's arm so tightly his fingers dug into his flesh."Its... its eyes... did they just move?! Did they?!"
"Shut up." Mo Wen glared at him, not answering, and quickly turned to Uncle Sima.
In the darkness, Uncle Sima's face was grim. He stared at the corpse for a long time, a complex emotion flickering in his eyes—too fast to catch.
Mo Wen frowned, cautiously asking,"Do you... know him?"
Uncle Sima slowly shook his head, not answering, his expression unchanged, as if the corpse had nothing to do with him.
But Jerry squinted, a hint of curiosity in his eyes...
Uncle Sima didn't look at him, only saying,"We need to leave quickly!"
Jerry eagerly agreed.
Mo Wen felt a twinge of suspicion, but now wasn't the time to question Sima. He said nothing and followed silently.
Jerry's face was pale as he nervously glanced around, fearing zombies might attack at any moment.
Mo Wen watched Sima's back, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.
Deep in the tunnel, the torchlight flickered against the damp rock walls, and water droplets fell with a monotonous"drip, drip" sound. The silence didn't last long. Jerry suddenly stopped and looked back into the darkness, then at Sima.
"Who are you, really?" he asked, his voice low and raspy with fear.
Sima didn't turn around, continuing to walk forward as if he hadn't heard.
Jerry gritted his teeth and grabbed Sima's arm, stopping him."Stop pretending! You've been acting strange since we entered the tunnel."
Mo Wen stood by, watching the confrontation with interest.
Sima slowly turned, his cold gaze sweeping over Jerry."I don't understand what you mean."
"You don't understand?" Jerry sneered, his eyes flashing dangerously."When you saw that corpse in the military uniform... your reaction was off."
Sima's eyes darkened slightly but remained calm."Seeing dead bodies is common, especially in places like this."
"But you knew him, didn't you?" Jerry pressed on, his tone becoming more aggressive."Otherwise, you wouldn't have stared at his face for so long. You remember him, and you even know how he died."
Mo Wen spoke up, his tone leisurely,"Are you sure, Jerry?"
Jerry took a deep breath, his chest heaving."Did you notice? When he saw the corpse, he didn't show any surprise. A normal person's first reaction to a mutilated soldier would be what?"
Mo Wen smiled and said slowly,"Disgust, fear, or... curiosity?"
Jerry nodded vigorously."But him? He didn't say anything, didn't even flinch. There are only two possibilities—"
Jerry's gaze was sharp as a blade."First, you've seen so many corpses like this that you're numb." He paused, his voice rising,"Second—you already knew he would die."
A brief silence filled the tunnel, only broken by the sound of water droplets causing ripples in the puddles.
Sima was silent for a moment before speaking slowly,"If you're smart, you'd know some questions are better left unasked."
Jerry's fists tightened, his voice low,"So, you admit it."
Sima's gaze was deep, his tone chillingly calm,"Admit what?"
"You're one of them," Jerry growled, staring at him."Or you used to be."
Sima said nothing more, just looked at Jerry, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
Mo Wen smiled, seemingly enjoying the drama,"It seems our friend's secrets are more than we imagined."
Sima exhaled slowly, looking away."We should keep moving."
Jerry's grip tightened, his fingers turning white. He knew Sima was hiding something—a secret that could mean life or death for all of them.
---
The fear from the darkness hadn't fully dissipated when the morning sun gently lit the road, as if last night's nightmare had never happened. The surviving volunteers cheerfully boarded the bus to the safe camp, their laughter dispelling lingering fears. Outside the window, the soft morning light enveloped the scarred road, and the city's ruins appeared faintly in the mist. The air still held a sense of urgency and unease, whispering of yesterday's horrors.
"Those fools who tried to escape probably met the zombies by now," a young volunteer murmured with a cold smile.
"We shouldn't talk too much," warned a nearby volunteer, looking around nervously."If the managers hear us, we'll be in trouble too."
The bus left the highway and turned onto a bumpy dirt road. The wheels crunched over gravel and potholes, shaking the bus. Then, a strange smell began to spread.
At first, a volunteer near the driver noticed the air seemed off, catching a hint of something burnt. But as the bus continued, the smell grew stronger, a mix of burnt plastic and sweet almond. His throat itched, his lungs felt like they were being squeezed, each breath stabbing his chest.
"Do you smell that?" he asked his companion, his voice uneasy.
Another took a deep breath, filling his nose with the sweet scent. His head felt heavy, his mind clouded by an invisible fog. The whispers around him grew distant. He covered his nose, heart racing, cold sweat dripping. The air seemed thick, pressing on his chest, making each breath harder.
Anxiety spread through the bus, more people talking in hushed tones, fearful glances exchanged. Someone tried to stand and get to the door for fresh air, but their legs gave way, crashing into the metal handle and hitting their head.
"We need... to get off this bus..." a volunteer whispered to his neighbor, his voice dry and raspy.
But before he could act, weakness overtook him, his limbs drained of strength. He staggered to the door, gripping the handle, trying to open it. But the sweet gas filled the bus, entering their lungs, consuming their consciousness. His breaths grew heavier, his chest heaving, lips trembling,"Help... us..." he whispered, his voice barely audible before collapsing by the door.
In the front of the bus, the driver's area was sealed off from the chaos inside. On a monitor, someone quietly watched it all unfold. Removing his hood, he took a deep breath, appearing calm, even relaxed. It was Dr. Tanaka.
Up ahead, the military truck continued its bumpy journey. The soldier at the wheel kept his eyes on the road, casually asking,"Doctor, you said someone went missing, what's that about?"