apocalypse

2.foraging

"What kind of world is this? Wesley remains uncertain, but what's certain is that this world is far from the sunlit and lively realm of his dreams.
Beneath the night's curtain, faint, dark-green luminescence gently arises, drifting slowly in the air. Beyond this luminescence lies an abyss of profound, ironclad, unidentifiable unknowns.
The shimmering light meanders gently, casting feeble radiance on its immediate vicinity. There, viscous, deep-green, perpetually putrid sewage courses, even in the almost lightless corners, emitting a pallid green glow that illuminates a small area around it.
Within the pooled sewage, indistinct hues of shredded fabric, rust-covered iron cans, and decaying flesh of unknown creatures float or sink. Various debris lurks, amidst which occasionally emerges a rat almost a meter long, squeaking as it rushes through the sewage, vanishing once more into the darkness.
The air, muddled, retains only the stench of decaying flesh, scampering giant rats comparable to lantern fireflies in the dusk, and an uncountable chorus of insects chirping. Rather than infusing life, these elements render this world more akin to a hellish landscape, a realm birthed from nightmares.
A cursory glance, utilizing his still-inexperienced blood-colored night vision, reveals to Wesley a landscape adorned solely by skeletal skyscrapers, partially collapsed walls of buildings, and scattered wrecks of automobiles.
The world beneath the night's shroud reflects an eerie green fluorescence everywhere. Meanwhile, Wesley regrets pressing his fingerprint on the exit's sensor, puzzled how the fingerprint of an experimental subject could open a five-centimeter-thick alloy gate...
At this moment, Wesley lacks even a hint of a desire to howl. He now feels outrageously feeble, bordering on the absurd. It's now that he realizes the most despairing thing isn't living within an infinitely repetitive nightmare, but waking up to a reality more despairing than his dreams.
If compelled to voice a lament, Wesley feels that even the historical figure named Ma Chao, courtesy name Mengqi, would struggle to accept the reality before his eyes. Similarly, the valiant Xiahou Dun, a man known for pulling out an arrow from his eye, would likely wish for blindness upon entering this world.
His body suddenly convulses, a sensation familiar to Wesley indicating extreme hunger and rapid physical depletion. Previously, quelling such tremors used to be quite simple—consume something nutritious.
But now?...
Wesley is clueless about what to do.
Zombies eat humans!
This is an undeniable fact, and at this moment, apart from a bitter smile, Wesley holds no gratitude: setting aside his endurance of moral and ethical restraints, he has no inkling of where to seek humanity in this bleak world!
A gust of wind blows, instantly eliciting a shrill, needle-like cry from the fireflies under the night's veil. Razor-sharp legs scrape against bricks and steel rods, igniting sparks, followed by a massive dark silhouette slowly dragging them into profound darkness. Echoing this cry is the crunching sound of chewing.
That sound, once again, jolts Wesley's brain, already teetering on the brink of extinguishment like a candle. His eyes, blood-red, suddenly gleam, a sensation of whole-body contraction and tension grips him. Wesley can't help but want to scream in agony. Under visible observation, his body, once resembling an average patient's, gradually emaciates, as if time fleeting by swiftly, while this agony recedes like a tide from his body, leaving behind a mind growing increasingly chaotic, as though deprived of sleep for days and nights during his previous life.
Amidst this disorienting and distressing state akin to a somnambulist, Wesley tentatively reaches for his right arm. Indeed, a layer has diminished from his right arm, the once faint outline of human flesh gradually replaced by dark-red veins. Upon exertion, it feels as dry and devoid of moisture as a withered tree branch. However, the benefit lies in Wesley immediately sensing his body lightening, just a slight movement allowing him to pull back a corner of the shadow in the ruined city.
He easily stands up.
Subsequently flexing his fingers, the grey, hardened, dark-red digits obediently trace a semicircle following the commands of his brain. Wesley truly feels different from before: if previously he resembled a completely paralyzed patient, now he's akin to a child drunk on liquor.
He hesitates momentarily but eventually takes two steps outside. Glancing back, above the secretive basement is a hospital. The once illuminated sign atop it has vanished, replaced by a faint light reflected off a pool of filthy water on the ground. Wesley recognizes those four large characters: Benevolence Hospital.
What a pleasant name!
Wesley sighs but can't muster even a sardonic smile. After his physical transformation, his cheekbones protrude prominently, his facial muscles severely lacking, rendering any semblance of human expression nearly impossible.
Suddenly, a rustling sound emanates, prompting Wesley to look back. Immediately, a sensation of piercing chaos stabs his brain, sending chills down his entire body. Emerging from the alley are seven or eight staggering figures, their cold breath, rotting visages, and dead-fish-like eyes terrify Wesley, who instinctively makes a move to flee. However, upon receiving rational information, he freezes.
Right, why run?"
These individuals should not harm themselves because, after all, they are cursed zombies just like me!
Wesley was bewildered, staring blankly as the group of zombies shuffled past him. Sensing the putrid, salty odor filling his nostrils, and as one decaying zombie lightly bumped into his body emitting a couple of meaningless "hissing" sounds without showing any signs of attack, inexplicably, a word popped into Wesley's mind: assimilation?
Indeed, he was a zombie. And a hungry, clueless zombie in this world, when encountering a group of similar beings, what should one do?
Naturally, one should go with the flow.
As the final zombie brushed the edge of his hospital gown, Wesley had already begun moving his legs, deciding to follow behind this group of zombies. Simultaneously, he cautiously observed this first batch of his awakened kind.
Though this group seemed disgusting and clumsy. Especially when Wesley observed them tripping over some scattered stones, he realized that the zombies had severely degraded vision, lacking his blood-colored night vision ability. Moreover, their hollow, confused eyes indicated these zombies had absolutely no thoughts, akin to those portrayed in film and television as mindless zombies, rudimentary and laughable.
Therefore, Wesley became more perplexed. Why had he retained consciousness from his former life? Furthermore, why couldn't he recall the memories of becoming a zombie? And why had he ended up in such a secretive underground research facility?
The ultimate question lingered—what in the world had happened?!
Wesley remained utterly clueless, unable to conjure any answers. Clearly, the "hissing" cries were not a specific zombie language—these comrades without a shred of thought wouldn't offer any answers.
However, these zombies possessed superiority over Wesley. At the very least, they knew where to obtain sustenance!
After progressing around five hundred meters and turning another street corner, Wesley's sight suddenly expanded. The low, dilapidated cottages and piles of debris made this world feel more apocalyptic, yet Wesley remained unshaken by these sights. Slowly lifting his gaze, a faint hint of blood-red congealed in his eyes.
A gentle breeze wafted by, a few strands of sweet aroma causing his entire body to uncontrollably thrill with excitement. The desire for a hearty meal only intensified. He noticed, amidst the heap of wreckage and debris, several vague figures swaying and tantalizing...
Simultaneously, the zombies in front seemed to have spotted this potential meal too. Their initially vacant, bewildered eyes suddenly gleamed. The lead zombie let out a sudden howl, its fangs protruding, then the entire group immediately sprang into frenzied action, clawing and biting, resembling famished wild dogs spotting a dumpling!
The speed was so astonishing that if not witnessed firsthand, Wesley wouldn't have believed these almost doll-like creatures, repulsive and grotesque, possessed such innate ferocity and explosiveness when it came to slaughter and feeding!
Subsequently, amidst these scattering, rampaging zombies, a more agile and swift figure surged forth. The oversized hospital gown flapped in the wind, threatening to be blown off at any moment. Yet above the gown, a pair of blood-colored eyes, slightly different from those fish-like eyes of the other zombies, emitted a profound and bloodthirsty glint, seemingly capable of staining the dim moon red in a heartbeat!