Chapter 67: Reestablishing Contact with the Base (6)

Like all expressways, the Beijing-Shenyang Expressway rose on a tall embankment, tightly encircled by solid guardrails. The field army had pushed all manner of vehicles to face outward toward the encircling horde, erecting three rows of two-tiered barricades as a precaution.

The command post was established atop the Chengxinzhuang Interchange. Li Fengyi’s long-handled guandao gleamed coldly in the hands of his orderly. He wore chain mail over his 99-pattern army camouflage, his cap stripped of its brim and tucked beneath the armor as well—this was the first time the Ministry of Industry had issued chain mail to the soldiers. They had donned it directly onto bare skin, their hair caught and pulled by the steel rings, making them look like plucked roosters. The women, not faring any better, cried out in pain, their shrieks drawing laughter and jeers.

“Abbess, just accept me already!” shouted a male soldier, nearly bald from the chain mail, to a similarly afflicted female comrade he’d long pursued.

Within an hour of wearing the armor, their skin was rubbed raw. The Ministry hurriedly drafted a manual on how to properly don the mail, and only then did conditions improve.

Lined up in their new armor, the soldiers looked like human statues enmeshed in fishing nets, red flags billowing in the wind.

With binoculars in hand, Li Fengyi surveyed the dense mass of zombies. According to the staff report, there were over 1.1 million of them, crowded into 2.585 square kilometers—one zombie per square meter. The expressway was pressed right up against their very noses.

The crowding was so severe that it was almost a blunder. Li Fengyi couldn’t help but mock himself. “There’s no room to deploy troops at all, not even a place to stand. Besides,” he glanced at the sun, “we’re standing to the west, staring into the glare. This timing is all wrong.”

A staff officer muttered to his neighbor, “I think fire would be more effective. With all this gear, even climbing the guardrail is a struggle.”

The main objective of this operation was to test the field army’s anti-zombie capabilities. The troops were ready; the mission was set. This battle had to be fought, regardless of the consequences—let alone the irreparable loss of burning down this factory district.

Li Fengyi gave the order: “Units stationed at the Yulinzhuang, Shagudui, and Wuyao bridges are to draw zombies and clear them out. Thin the density first—if the pressure is too much, pull back.”

The units at those three bridges received their orders via radio. They catapulted sacks of fresh meat near the zombie horde, tossing them progressively closer to the defense line.

Drawn by the scent, the zombies howled and surged forward.

The bridge decks were narrow. Each soldier with a long-handled guandao could control about six meters, so just a few fully armed men could fill the line. They formed over ten layers of defense, using less than half a company.

But as soon as the defense lines clashed with the horde, it became clear things would not go as planned. Controlling six meters meant the weapon’s arc, but the zombies charged as if in a hundred-meter dash. The soldiers barely had time to cut down a few before being swarmed.

The officers were alarmed and shouted, “Detach the handles!”

Now each soldier, wielding a shorter, meter-and-a-half blade, could control three meters. This worked much better. Interlaced rows of defenses finally held the zombies back.

Yet, since zombies feared neither death nor pain, the lines held only with great difficulty. After less than half an hour, each soldier was exhausted, though each had slain two or three hundred zombies. Constantly shifting their footing atop the mounting corpses, they slowed as the bodies piled up.

More and more zombies broke through, their corpses accumulating at the failed lines like earthen mounds, making rotation and withdrawal impossible. Encumbered by their gear, the soldiers simply could not outrun the zombies.

Watching all this through his binoculars, Li Fengyi could only sigh. “Plans never keep pace with change. No matter how detailed the strategy, reality always surprises.”

He tossed aside his binoculars, spreading his hands. “How are we supposed to fight like this?” The binoculars dangled from his neck, swaying.

The staff officers were equally stunned—this was far beyond anything they’d imagined.

One traditionalist among them protested loudly, “I think we’re using the weapon wrong! The guandao was meant for offense, not defense.”

“Oh?” Li Fengyi looked at him. “Go on.”

“We’ve never actually seen how the guandao was used, but according to historical accounts, Li Guangbi’s guandao troops advanced like a wall, not stood like one.” The officer continued, “With our chain mail, we should charge in ranks. When we tire, we rest in place—do you think zombies can bite through this armor?”

“Once we pave the battlefield with our ranks…” Li Fengyi’s eyes lit up, catching on, “the battle is as good as won!”

“Exactly,” the traditionalist agreed, then hesitated. “But sending our men into the horde is a bold move. Who knows how they’ll take it?”

“Hmm.” Li Fengyi replied quietly, raising his binoculars again to watch the bridgehead.

Just as they were discussing, the situation shifted.

The first few ranks at the three bridges were already buried beneath the dead. The rear ranks would soon be overwhelmed as well. At this moment, the reconnaissance battalion commander at Shagudui Bridge lost his patience. Snatching off his binoculars and flinging them behind him, he seized the radio from his orderly and shouted, “Commander, we’re going in! Remember us this day every year—burn some offerings for us!”

He tossed the radio away, grabbed the short-handled guandao from his orderly, and shouted, “Party members, step forward!”

The army was the Party’s force, and with Minister Liu’s push for frontline recruitment, half the reconnaissance battalion responded, forming up at once. The commander stood before them, a raging sea of zombies at his back, and just a thin, battered line of defenders between them and annihilation.

“Brothers! I’m leading you to death. Do you dare?!”

“We dare!” came the furious roar.

“Well done!” The commander pointed to the battalion flag planted nearby. “That’s our banner—don’t let it be shamed!”

He assumed his stance, raising his guandao diagonally to the left. “Keep your distance—follow me in! Zombies can’t bite through chain mail. Charge!”

Ranks upon ranks of soldiers followed their commander, surging into the horde like stones cast into the sea. Even the non-Party soldiers joined the charge.

A thousand years later, the spectacle of guandao troops advancing like a moving wall returned once more. The raging tides of zombies were stemmed, and then, one by one, the soldiers pressed forward, overtaking even the vanguard as they plunged deeper into the mass.