The road was peaceful, and Leon encountered only a few Zombies. He guessed that during the month since the disaster, the monsters on the roads had probably been drawn away by passing vehicles.
They were extremely sensitive to sound. During the early days of the disaster, the sound of military artillery in the major cities had continuously attracted the Zombies from the surrounding areas.
Only the poor creatures trapped inside buildings or confined in narrow corners were still waiting for prey to come to them.
After driving for about ten minutes, King County's police station appeared before Leon.
Looking at the tightly locked iron gate, Leon awkwardly realized a problem: he didn't have the key to the police station.
The protagonist, Rick, could freely lead people in and out because he was a county sheriff in King County, and the police station was his home turf.
What should I do? Look for the key to Rick's house? Without the key, the gun vault inside the station should be difficult to open, right?
Suddenly, a scene from the TV series came to Leon's mind.
That's right! The zombified county sheriff.
Leon picked up his weapon and followed the road beside the main building of the police station. After walking more than two hundred meters, he reached the back of the station.
There was the station's rear entrance, along with a basketball court enclosed by a metal fence.
Looking up, he saw a figure in a police uniform wandering aimlessly around the basketball court.
That's him. His name seems to be Leon too. What a coincidence.
Leon whistled at the figure, and the sharp sound immediately caught its attention.
Like a puppy that had received an order, it twisted its body and revealed its ugly, rotting face. After seeing Leon, a living human, endless strength surged through it.
The county sheriff Zombie lunged at Leon on all fours, limping as it came.
Crash!
The metal fence bulged outward under the pressure. The barrier hindered the Zombie's movements, rendering all its efforts useless. However, the concept of giving up didn't exist in these monsters' minds.
The Zombie county sheriff opened its mouth wide and snarled. Its head was pressed firmly against the metal fence, while the rotting flesh on its face was torn into shreds by the wires, leaving it hideous and ferocious.
Leon stopped one step away from the Zombie, feeling slightly sick. He drew a dagger from his belt, aimed its tip at the Zombie's eye socket, and stabbed down hard.
Splurt!
The dagger sank in nearly halfway. The Zombie's entire body stiffened, then immediately stopped moving. It slumped against the metal fence, the light gone from its eyes.
This time, Leon felt no fear when facing the Zombie.
Leon slowly pulled out the dagger, wiped the filthy blood off on the corpse in front of him, and casually returned it to his belt.
He realized that once he found the right method, these Zombies became very easy to deal with.
After spending ten minutes, Leon used an iron hook through the metal fence to retrieve the key from the county sheriff Zombie's corpse.
After trying the keys one by one, he finally entered the police station through a side door.
Even after entering the police station, he didn't relax his guard. Although there had been no Zombies in the station in the TV series, who knew whether an accident might happen?
Fortunately, the police station was completely safe, and nothing unexpected occurred.
It took Leon about an hour to thoroughly search every room, and what he found delighted him.
There were more than a dozen different types of firearms, over a thousand rounds of ammunition, and even Bulletproof Vests, riot gear, and various other defensive equipment in the equipment room.
What surprised him most was that the police station still had more than a dozen sets of police Radio communication equipment.
Now that communications had been lost, equipment capable of communicating over medium and long distances was practically miraculous.
"Hey, I really don't understand Rick. That guy is practically sitting on a mountain of treasure without realizing it."
In the original story, he had simply driven away in a battered car with a few lousy guns.
"Seriously, did he think the apocalypse was a camping trip?"
"But that's good for me. It's all mine now."
"Don't worry. Once I get established in Atlanta, I'll come back and give you a hand."
The police station had an independent water and power supply system.
Leon took a hot shower for the first time in ages, changed into a spare police uniform left behind by someone, and found some food in the communal kitchen. After making do with a meal, he finally got a proper rest.
After eating and drinking his fill, Leon counted the supplies while planning the next day's actions.
There were too many supplies here. His Chevrolet sports car couldn't possibly hold them all.
Wasting things was shameful.
Hmm, there seems to be a prisoner transport van parked outside the police station. Its body is reinforced with Bulletproof Vest plates.
"It may be ugly, but during times like these, it's much more practical than a Chevrolet sports car."
"I'll look around the Warehouse later. I should be able to find the key."
Leon thought about it aimlessly.
After resting for a while, he searched for the key, started the vehicle, and transferred the supplies. He worked nonstop until eight that evening, finally completing all the preparations.
He drove the prisoner transport van into the basketball court behind the police station, locked all the doors, and kept the vehicle keys close to his body. It never hurt to be cautious.
After everything was done, Leon found the communal lounge in the police station, covered himself with a wool blanket left behind by someone, and fell asleep with his head tilted back.
That night, he had many strange dreams.
Some belonged to Hu Sheng, some belonged to Leon Castor, and others were bizarre, chaotic dreams that made no sense.
Early the next morning, around six, Leon woke up.
The strange energy within him was indeed powerful. He felt that his body had recovered to its peak condition. He was full of energy and drive, and even his strength and constitution seemed to have increased slightly.
This gave him a great deal of confidence.
The Atlanta CDC was about eighty kilometers from King County.
If everything went smoothly, he could leave now and arrive by two in the afternoon.
With a map he had found in the office, Leon felt certain of his course. He prepared to leave immediately—the earlier, the better.
If he could successfully reach an agreement with the Researchers at the Atlanta CDC, it would provide tremendous help for his future.
Hopefully, everything would go smoothly.
--
June 10, 2010, Atlanta CDC.
"Jenner, do we have any of Sample 18 left?"
Dr. Melpha Pascal frowned deeply. Months of failed experiments had left her exhausted.
What troubled her even more was that after the army withdrew, the CDC lost all logistical supplies. The official organizations then lost contact one after another, and they could no longer receive any news from the outside world.
From that moment on, the Researchers had become anxious and lost all motivation to work. Some fled, while others committed suicide. In just half a month, only the two of them remained at the entire CDC, still holding their posts.
But now, even their experimental samples could no longer be replenished.
Dr. Jenner licked his lips and looked at his wife. His voice was slightly hoarse as he said:
"Sorry, Melpha. Sample 18 has already been used up."
"We need to obtain a new sample before we can continue the experiments."
"Is that so?"
Dr. Melpha gathered the long golden hair beside her ear and replied softly, saying nothing more.
As the Research Director and head of the Wildfire Project, she understood better than anyone that everything they were doing now was futile. The CDC's biggest problem was no longer the samples.
What they lacked was energy and a steady supply of provisions. Even though the entire CDC was currently operating in energy-saving mode, their power supply could last at most another month.
That amount of time was meaningless. Researching a serum wasn't like doing laundry or cooking. It was a vast, long-term project that required years—five years, ten years, or even twenty—to produce results.
But would it still matter by then?
How many humans would be left at that point?
Could any organization support the CDC for more than a decade?
Alas, we've already failed.
Melpha turned and looked at her husband. He was simple-minded and somewhat foolish, a rather stiff bookworm.
But he was also the person who loved her most in the world.
What should I do to save you, Jenner?
Just then, a deep voice suddenly came through the intercom connected to the entrance.
"Hello!"
"Is anyone there?"
"I'm Leon Castor."
"I'd like to talk to you."
(Don't worry, everyone. The author is a person of principle. I'll definitely study hard and won't abandon the story.)
Before you continue