Chapter 73: Establishing Communication with the Base (12)

The report of the conflict in the Huairou mountain region was immediately relayed up through the ranks, and the leadership of the Special Committee convened without delay in the main headquarters and in the conference room of Base Two.

The radio meeting erupted like a pot coming to a boil.

“Could it be scattered survivors?” The Ministry of Civil Affairs never overlooked a single survivor.

“No, the gunfire was too intense. Considering that many firearms were damaged at the start of the apocalypse due to improper handling, their arsenal must be astonishing.”

“Is it criminal elements?” The Ministry of Public Security was particularly sensitive to this possibility.

“No, they're acting in perfect unison with clear commands. According to reports from former active-duty soldiers, their formation is textbook People's Liberation Army. You can hear military jargon; it's unmistakably the style of a regular army.”

“Are they hostile towards us?” The Department of Armed Forces was already preparing to take action.

“Hard to say, but no one’s been hurt.”

“Ahem, ahem,” Ye Liusun from the United Front Department forced himself to appear calm, though it wasn’t easy—at last, their first real opportunity had emerged.

“There’s a survivor camp in Huairou,” Ye Liusun said, flipping through his notes with a wetted finger, “a group made up of soldiers, mountain villagers, and fugitive survivors.”

“Their attitude towards us is neutral,” Ye Liusun continued methodically. “After several radio conversations, they expressed willingness to talk.”

No one had expected the United Front Department to have such information up its sleeve. After a moment's silence, everyone began to speak at once: “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “Someone could’ve died!”

“I didn’t expect the field army to move in so fast,” Ye Liusun protested, aggrieved. “And no one asked me, did they?”

“In the future, the United Front Department must compile and promptly report all information on survivor bases,” Li Qiang declared, stripping him of the right to present reports. “The Department of Armed Forces needs to be able to prepare.”

“Oh, oh,” Ye Liusun’s careful calculations were thrown into disarray. The former civil servant and passionate enthusiast did his best to appear nonchalant, swallowing hard. “Alright, we’ll organize the detailed data and provide timely updates.”

Based on intelligence from the United Front Department and reports from the frontline reconnaissance battalion, the situation was as follows: Huairou’s survivor base had a population of 120,000, more than half of whom had fled in from outside the mountains.

On the day the apocalypse began, the local garrison lost more than half its strength to infection; after conducting a purge of the inner city, they lost still more, leaving less than 10,000 troops.

After the base was established, new recruits were conscripted to bring their numbers up to 50,000. Huairou possessed several munitions depots from Beijing; many mountain ranges there had been hollowed out, serving as national reserve depots for grain, oil, ammunition, artillery, tanks, and even aircraft. Despite the fact that human strength had increased and many weapons were damaged as a result, the remaining arsenal was still astronomical in scale.

After ruling out the possibility of sabotage—an internal purge had even taken place—the Special Committee released an official explanation, and with their own efforts and rigorous training, the group re-equipped its forces with modern firearms. The exact equipment remained unclear— the United Front Department hadn’t penetrated their inner circle to that extent, and the intelligence was the result of long-term exchanges.

Their organizational structure comprised three elements: former military personnel, former government officials, and leaders among the fugitive survivors. As a whole, they harbored no grand ambitions for the future.

Those with education and experience knew better than to dream of empire in such a short time. For now, they were entirely preoccupied with internal power struggles, each hoping their own faction might secure a greater share of authority. In thought, perhaps each had entertained the notion of becoming a warlord in the chaos, but when it came down to it, being well-fed and clothed was blessing enough.

In terms of relations with other organizations, they had no desire to conquer others or establish hegemony—the three factions all held some standing in society before the apocalypse, and didn’t see a dictatorial new order as offering them any better prospects.

Since the end began, aside from one mission where the military was ordered to retake the inner city, their focus had been on defense. After dealing with internal zombie threats and securing the mountain passes, they turned inward, lost in their own infighting. They had no plans to reclaim other regions, nor did they want outside interference. Of course, if a legitimate national institution issued orders, the military would obey—after all, they remained the armed force of the Party, and political work units, though diminished, still ensured the army stayed true to its nature.

The remnants of the government departments would also obey as before, and, as before, seize whatever perks they could. The armed survivors, however, were another story—they felt that before the apocalypse, they had paid taxes to support those two groups, and after it, no one came to save them; they had to save themselves, which bred a strong sense of resentment.

“With ample weapons, ammunition, and food reserves, they look down on other survivor bases,” Ye Liusun cast a furtive glance at Li Qiang and Commander Liu.

“What do they say about us?” Li Qiang, hearing the implication, pressed him.

“Young people still lack composure, always so impatient,” Commander Liu thought, paying close attention.

“They call us a bunch of iron-pipe men and women, with... suggestive... tofu... nonsense,” Ye Liusun admitted, feeling rather embarrassed.

“Damn it!” Li Qiang burst out in fury. “How many zombies have those bastards actually killed? By my count, just one or two hundred thousand in the mountains, at most! We’ve wiped out nearly four million! We use iron pipes because it’s practical! If I had that much firepower, would I care about a few lousy guns? I can drive a tank, damn it!”

Commander Liu’s face flushed red.

Li Fengyi suggested that they urgently establish a security or intelligence department. The Special Committee agreed that it was necessary, but qualified personnel were hard to find—watching a few spy films hardly made one qualified.

Among the survivors, there were surely agents from the National Security Bureau, but they remained deeply hidden and the organization department had not found them; repeated recruitment efforts had failed to flush them out.

They resolved to wait until the archives were recovered from the National Security Ministry in the reclaimed area, then see if the agents could be identified and persuaded to come forward and take charge of this work—their loyalty and abilities were beyond doubt, and after all, the Special Committee was Party-led.

Next, Minister of Industry Sun Xiaoshan announced his intention to modify the firing mechanisms of the arsenal’s weapons. The principle was simple enough: install a limiter, like those on machine tools, to prevent the triggers from being damaged. He was relieved that the apocalypse hadn’t altered inorganic materials or metals—otherwise, everyone might have to practice sorcery or martial arts.

His remark drew a round of laughter and relieved discussion—at least in this world, much remained within the reach of human knowledge.

In any case, the pace of clearing out Beijing had to be accelerated, or civil unrest might indeed break out.