Chapter Fifty-One

Those who had been tricked into getting off the bus were furious. They clung desperately to the doors, pounding on the windows and unleashing a torrent of obscenities.

“Ginter, you bastard! May you die a miserable death!”

“Open the door! Damn it, Ginter, open the damn door! Driver! Open up!”

“Open the door! Please! Open up, please—!”

Unbeknownst to them, their shrill screams and curses only drew more attention from the zombies nearby.

Ginter ignored their yells without the slightest hesitation. Like a madman, he roared at Lin Hu, “Try it now! Don’t just stand there! Start the engine! Did you think their sacrifice was for nothing?” After shouting, he turned to glance coldly at the men and women inside, their faces twisted with fear and anger at his actions, their words caught in their throats. Ginter spoke icily, “Leaving them behind didn’t just save me. It saved all of you, too.” The angry glares deflated like punctured balloons, and silence fell. Some of the women began to sob quietly.

The engine sputtered. Salvation! The bus finally came to life. Ginter cast a glance at his former colleagues outside—some already torn apart by the zombies, others clutching bitten arms as they tried to escape. He knew there was no rescuing them now.

“Drive,” he said, bowing deeply toward the window before sitting down by the door.

———

A chorus of stomachs rumbled awkwardly. After days and nights of desperate flight, everyone on the bus now feared Ginter but tried their best to please him. His recent actions had left them anxious and on edge.

“Brother Ginter, it’s been a whole day and we haven’t eaten anything,” piped up a short, wiry man who’d been lucky enough to stay on the bus.

“That’s right, Ginter, everyone’s hungry…” chimed in a delicate female voice, though roughened by thirst.

Reclining on his wide seat, Ginter opened his eyes—he’d only been pretending to nap—and replied impatiently, “Stay hungry. No one volunteered to go out and gather food with us, did they? If you won’t help, then starve.”

“Uh… Ginter…” The little man knew arguing was pointless. What if Ginter got angry and threw him off the bus? He cast a furtive glance at the small pile of food stacked nearby, his eyes gleaming with a hungry, wolfish light.

If he couldn’t get it openly, he’d just have to steal it.

He returned to his seat. The woman who’d just spoken sidled over, tracing circles on his chest as she muttered curses under her breath. The man lowered his head and pressed his dry, cracked lips to hers, his hands slipping under her shirt. Soon, muffled sounds of pleasure could be heard from the back seats.

There were only seven people left on the bus now—four men and three women. The driver, Lin Hu; their leader, Ginter; the little man, Wang Zixing; and a quiet, honest-looking boy named Xu Dong. The three women were Wang Xiaoxiao, who always seemed dazed; Nan Li, involved with Wang Zixing; and Zhao Qingqing, who rarely spoke. Each of them had survived for a reason—except perhaps for Wang Xiaoxiao, who simply refused to leave the bus.

Lin Hu needed no explanation—this was an old manual bus, and only he knew how to drive it. In this post-apocalyptic world, no one else had bothered to learn. Ginter had both leadership and guts, often risking his life alongside Xu Dong to scavenge for food. Xu Dong, the short man, was clever and a native of the city; his intimate knowledge of the streets had saved them from zombie hordes more than once. But he had his flaws: he was terrified of death and relied solely on the food Ginter and the others found. He also had sticky fingers, believing no one had noticed how much he’d already pilfered. A useful man, perhaps, but not one to be trusted for long.

As for the women: Wang Xiaoxiao was the immovable one—Ginter couldn’t bring himself to force a newly graduated, fragile girl to go scavenging. Since the outbreak, she’d barely moved from her seat, sitting in a perpetual daze. Nan Li, on the other hand, sought protection wherever she could find it. She’d tried her luck with Lin Hu, Ginter, and Xu Dong: one had coldly told her to get lost (Ginter), one had politely declined with a smile (“No thanks, auntie,” from Xu Dong), and one had punched her (“I’ve got a wife!” from Lin Hu). Left with no other choice, she’d ended up with Wang Zixing—much to her own chagrin. But to others, they seemed perfectly matched: a schemer and a scoundrel, a pair made in hell.

The last woman, Zhao Qingqing, was something else entirely. After fainting for an entire day, she’d narrowly avoided being thrown out to the zombies by regaining consciousness just in time—and then retaliated by pelting everyone who’d tried to toss her out with small balls of ice. So she had powers—ice powers, no less! Now, with water scarce, everyone on the bus depended on her to conjure ice for drinking, and nobody dared cross her, even if her magic could only produce a small amount each time. She was lucky, and her luck was holding.

The bus rattled onward. They weren’t the only ones who needed to eat—the bus needed fuel, too. Now, with the gas gauge plummeting, their next destination was clear: the gas station.

“We’re about to reach the next settlement,” Lin Hu announced. “Everyone, get ready.” With that, he floored the accelerator and sped ahead.

Author’s note: Though you treat me like crap, I still treat you like my first love!

Why does writing over 3,000 words only lose me subscribers? My stomach aches with frustration.