Chapter Nineteen: Skyward Base

After waiting for several minutes, Yang Huaiyuan, his hands stained with oil, climbed onto the minibus with a slight smile, waving a ruptured oil pipe in his hand. “Even that old pipe couldn’t survive the sound of the horn—it’s completely ruined now. I checked over the minibus while I was at it. There are several damaged areas, but unfortunately, we don’t have the parts to fix them. Luckily, none of those broken parts are essential, so we can still drive, albeit barely. As long as we don’t exceed forty kilometers per hour, we should be able to reach the provincial base without any trouble.”

Yang Huaiyuan didn’t need to explain further. Xie Han could easily imagine that after arriving at the provincial base, this minibus would have reached the end of its road, ready to be scrapped for good. Realizing the minibus could only manage forty kilometers per hour, everyone cursed the convoy that had just left, venting their frustration. Chu Tianhe, always outspoken, didn’t hold back, “I hope those bastards run into tens of thousands of zombies ahead and get devoured alive.”

But everyone knew that Chu Tianhe’s wish was unlikely to come true, and so they boarded the bus in silence. With Qi Feiwu’s ear injured, the task of driving naturally fell to Xu Qiang. The group was short on medical supplies, so Qi Feiwu could only stuff some cotton in her ear and quietly recline in her seat, eyes closed, preserving her strength. In this world where the strong preyed on the weak, she had long since accepted her fate—those who are weak must endure bullying, and until one grows strong, patience is the only choice.

Traveling at forty kilometers per hour meant their planned hour-and-a-half journey would stretch to nearly two and a half hours. It was already past two in the afternoon; even if everything went smoothly, they wouldn’t reach the provincial base until around five. Everyone knew that outsiders entering the base had to undergo quarantine checks, which typically took five to six hours, followed by housing allocation. Tonight, they would almost certainly sleep in the quarantine zone.

The journey went relatively smoothly. Many people were heading for the provincial base; they encountered at least seven or eight other groups along the way. Unlike Xie Han’s team, which had survived the apocalypse and was composed of human elite, these other teams each had at least thirty or forty members. Xie Han’s group, with only ten people, seemed almost miraculous to have made it this far. Because of this, many teams greeted their battered minibus with friendly nods.

Near five o’clock, the minibus finally approached the province base’s territory. At the entrance off the elevated highway, five towering steel watchtowers stood guard. Each tower housed four soldiers manning heavy machine guns, their barrels tracking the vehicles below as they underwent preliminary inspection. Many cars waited at the entrance, queued up for approval. Dozens of soldiers, clad in camouflage, maintained strict vigilance, their weapons already off safety and ready to fire at the slightest provocation.

Xu Qiang lined up the minibus in the waiting convoy, speaking tiredly, “This road is the only route to Wangtian Base. In fact, we’re still fifty kilometers away from Wangtian City, the provincial capital. This base must have been converted from a town.” He shrugged, adding, “I learned all this from the radio back at the base, but I don’t know the details.”

Li Hengbo, a bit excited, took over the conversation. With decades of experience in electronics repair, he frequently worked on radio maintenance, so he knew a fair bit about such matters. “Actually, Wangtian Base was formed by surviving provincial officials, who rallied the police force from Wangtian City and soldiers from the Wangtian military district. Wangtian City itself is a major international metropolis, with a population exceeding five million, not to mention over ten million transient residents. That made it impossible to use the city as a base. Under the pressure of millions of zombies, they withdrew all forces from Wangtian City and, fifty-five kilometers away, cleared out a small town entirely before establishing this provincial base—the town we’re heading for now: Yanglin.”

Yanglin, in Wangtian Province, was itself a significant industrial town, home to several large machinery factories and dozens of food processing plants. Perhaps these were the reasons it was chosen. After capturing the town, it became the base of operations. The factories provided many conveniences: with minor modification, the machinery plants could produce firearms and ammunition, and heavy vehicles could be assembled if properly utilized. But the true value lay in those dozens of food plants—after all, in the apocalypse, food meant survival.

After nearly an hour, it was finally Xie Han’s minibus’s turn. Clearly, the inspectors weren’t particularly interested in such a battered and bloodstained vehicle. Where usually five people would conduct the inspection, only two stepped aboard. These two wore customs uniforms and carried no weapons, only a laptop. By 2055, computers had overcome many traditional limitations, offering far more user-friendly interfaces.

As soon as they boarded, their eyes swept ceaselessly around the minibus, disappointment plain in their expressions. But they quickly spotted the rice barrel, excitement lighting their faces as they hurried over and lifted the lid. The sight of abundant white rice made them gasp in delight, feeling lucky to have found such valuable goods in this shabby vehicle.

Without a word, the two pulled out a bag from their pockets and began scooping rice from the barrel, utterly ignoring the ten people inside.

Xie Han was stunned. He had never expected such blatant robbery, worse than bandits. Furious, he stood up and shouted, “What do you think you’re doing?”

His shout made the inspectors pause briefly, but they quickly straightened up, their faces darkening. With a cold sneer, one replied, “What are we doing? We’re conducting a normal inspection of your items. All firearms, ammunition, and prohibited goods fall under our confiscation rights.”

Xie Han was seething, pointing at the rice in their hands. “Are you saying this rice is contraband?”

Their faces grew even darker, and one snapped, “Listen, kid. If you want into the base, you’d better behave. Otherwise, a failed inspection is all it takes to kick you out. Our base doesn’t accept any teams infected with the XR virus.”

Faced with their threats, Xie Han felt a murderous rage. He had never imagined that in a world ravaged by apocalypse, such outright theft would still occur.

Chu Tianhe, quick-witted, stood up from his seat and, wincing, took out his prized pack of Zhonghua cigarettes. He offered each inspector one, smiling apologetically. “Don’t take offense, gentlemen. Young people are always a bit hot-headed. Take as much rice as you like.” He added quietly, “Looking at our team, we must be qualified, right?”

Seeing Chu Tianhe so accommodating, the inspectors’ expressions finally relaxed. After lighting their cigarettes, one patted Chu Tianhe’s shoulder. “You’re a good comrade…” he said, and continued scooping out rice. Soon, more than half the barrel was gone. Judging by their greedy looks, if they could carry more, they would have taken the whole barrel.

The inspection itself was simple: all weapons were collected, each team member registered, and the team leader recorded. Normally, this would have been straightforward, but after the inspectors’ greedy plundering, it left everyone deeply uncomfortable. Xie Han even began to doubt whether coming to this base was the right decision for them.

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Here’s the first update… As always, where are those votes?