Crossing the Sea of Corpses

Atlanta, University District.

Just two months had passed, and Atlanta, hailed as America's "New Capital of the South," had already turned into a dead zone.

The once-bustling streets were now scarred and battered, countless car wrecks and human remains crammed together, blocking every road. Black scorch marks from smoke and fire covered the pavement and walls.

Between these roadblocks, inside the buildings, and in the shadowy alleys at every turn, tens of thousands of zombies clustered densely together, wandering aimlessly, occasionally letting out terrifying growls from their throats.

Leon and his brave men, their armor smeared with the foul blood and flesh of zombies, hung their heads low and trudged silently through the sea of undead.

At the front of the line walked Glenn. This Korean young man wasn't tall, but he possessed courage beyond ordinary measure. Faced with such a horrifying scene, even as his whole body trembled with fear, he gritted his teeth and volunteered to lead the way.

He believed that since he knew these roads best, only by taking point could he minimize the danger for all his companions.

Daryl fell silently to the rear of the group, a dagger clutched tightly in his hand, guarding against threats from behind. This quiet man never boasted of his contributions; he simply stood watch over the comrades he acknowledged, fearless of any danger.

Old Merle seemed to notice his younger brother's move. This usually crude older brother first sneaked a glance at their boss Leon's position, then quietly shifted over to his brother's side to guard the back of the group together.

The eight-man team moved slowly. Not only did they have to steer clear of zombie clusters and car wrecks, but they also had to step over corpses and various debris—like lampposts toppled by explosions—scattered across the road.

They followed the street for about ten minutes before finally reaching the area near a crossroads.

This intersection appeared to have been turned into a makeshift military position. Hundreds of sandbags were stacked into several waist-high defensive posts, with six heavy machine guns mounted on top, their muzzles aimed at every direction around the position.

In one corner of the position, a camouflaged tank had crashed into a building and sat idle. On the other side of the crossroads, a helicopter—its condition unknown—was parked on the road, with a pilot whose upper body was torn apart strapped tightly into the driver's seat.

Leon and his men advanced cautiously, keeping watch. Among the zombies and corpses wandering the ground and nearby, they spotted over a dozen in camouflage military uniforms, likely soldiers who had fallen at this position.

Many of them had been killed by gunshots to the head.

Probably executed by others to prevent them from turning into zombies after death.

Leon thought this to himself, then followed Glenn as they turned right into another street.

This street looked much the same as the last—car wrecks and wandering zombies everywhere, if anything even more numerous.

As the group pressed deeper, they became surrounded by countless zombies. Leon could clearly feel the fear gripping everyone's heart—fear of death. With every step forward, that fear grew stronger.

Everyone knew that if they were encircled by tens of thousands of zombies here, no one could escape being torn apart and devoured. Maybe they'd be gnawed down to skeletons. At that thought, even Leon, a strongman with a cheat-like advantage, couldn't help but tremble slightly.

But just at this critical moment, Leon noticed Professor Amrin walking ahead of him suddenly shudder. The professor couldn't help lifting his head and sneezing forward.

Ah... Choo!

Muffled by the motorcycle helmet, the sneeze sounded like a sack full of sand hitting the ground from a height.

Low, clear.

In an instant, everyone in the group went stiff, their hair standing on end, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.

Leon cursed inwardly, suppressing the urge to go on a killing spree. He lifted his head slightly, carefully observing the nearby zombies, daring not to make any sudden moves.

That clear sound naturally drew the attention of zombies within a hundred meters. They all turned their heads toward Professor Amrin's location and tentatively closed in.

Feeling the university professor's increasingly trembling body, Leon placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, signaling him not to panic and not to act rashly.

No matter what they thought, the zombies didn't hesitate. Hundreds of them surged forward, crowding around the group.

Everyone held their breath. Several shut their eyes in terror, trapped in the center of the horde. They silently prayed not to be discovered, standing as still as statues, not daring to move.

This was something Leon had instructed before they set out: when crossing a sea of zombies, even if a teammate was torn apart right in front of them, they must not act recklessly—otherwise, they'd just be throwing their lives away.

Five minutes of silence.

It felt like five centuries.

The zombie horde shuffled around, found nothing, and gradually gave up their search. They staggered back to their original spots and resumed their aimless wandering.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The underclothes beneath their armor were soaked through with sweat.

But they dared not linger any longer. They stuck close behind Glenn and headed toward the Georgia Institute of Technology.

This was the closest Leon had ever come to death—so close he couldn't even fight back, only wait. He hadn't taken this mission too seriously at first, thinking it was just a slightly tricky rescue operation.

He never expected such great danger. This wake-up call quickly cooled the cocky attitude Leon had been carrying lately.

The apocalypse was too dangerous. You could die from any random accident at any moment. Better to play it safe.

Fortunately, after that lesson, everyone's nerves were stretched to the limit. No one dared to slack off anymore. The group moved slowly, painstakingly feeling their way forward for nearly an hour and a half, crossing several streets, until they finally emerged from that ocean of zombies.

Leaving the block of towering buildings behind, they walked another five minutes and arrived at a small plaza with beautiful scenery and lush vegetation.

At the far end of the plaza stood a thirty-meter-tall, massive European-style building made of marble, reinforced concrete, and steel.

Behind this building, many other academic structures—some tall, some short, some beautiful, some peculiar—were surrounded by greenery and trees. Fountains and statues of various designs could be seen here and there. The entire campus sprawled over a vast area, like a giant garden.

This was their destination. From far away, they could already see the gate and sign of the Georgia Institute of Technology.

Now, this prestigious school—one of the three most famous technical institutes in America—had lost its former glory and turned into a ghost town.

The garden-like buildings were packed with countless young zombies in all kinds of casual clothes. They wandered aimlessly, scattered across every corner of the campus, numbering in the thousands.

Professor Amrin couldn't help stepping closer, a look of sorrow on his face. His eyes grew moist, and his voice choked with emotion:

"This school was once a temple of knowledge, a jewel of human civilization. For over a hundred years, it nurtured countless outstanding scientific talents. They walked out from here into society, led the changes of the times, and created countless great achievements."

"Alas, what a pity."

"I remember that before we left, there were over 20,000 students here, more than 1,000 teachers, and over 2,000 staff members. I just don't know how many of them are still alive now."

Leon stepped forward, patted the professor on the shoulder, and said:

"Let's go, Professor. Sitting here and thinking won't do any good. We still need you to lead the way."

"Go see for yourself who's still alive."

"Like you used to say, every minute earlier might just save a life."

With that, he waved to his team, pulled a sharp short blade from his belt, and said:

"Everyone, follow me. Move stealthily, kill as quietly as possible, and cut a path through. Don't make a sound."