TIC Chapter 14

  Chapter 14

Xiao Yan’s heart tightened—it was Hein Burton!

He pressed the button; the instant the safety pod hissed open, he was abruptly hoisted onto someone’s shoulder.

“Ah—” Xiao Yan barely had time to open his mouth to cry out before Hein’s shoulder dug into his stomach, making him feel as though he were about to vomit. Was carrying him over a shoulder truly the *only* way to transport him?

Hein planted one foot against the safety pod’s hatch and leaped into the air. The fingertips of a zombie grazed the tips of Xiao Yan’s hair as a horde of the undead surged in pursuit.

Only then did Xiao Yan realize he had landed in a place resembling a farm. He could faintly make out the weathered, decaying remains of a fence; the pastures were lush and green, though long devoid of any livestock. High above, drifting clouds cast vast, slowly shifting shadows across the verdant fields.

Just then, two Level 1 zombies closed in on them. Towering in stature, they moved with surprising agility; their long, powerful legs pumped furiously as they ran, their tongues quivering and dripping with viscous saliva—a truly repulsive sight. To these creatures, Xiao Yan was the ultimate, coveted meal.

Suddenly, Xiao Yan was flung to the ground. As he threw out his arms to brace himself, his palms landed squarely on a patch of gravel embedded in the grass; the sharpest shards of stone sliced ​​deep into his flesh. He had no time to cry out in pain before Hein—standing right before him—hurled the container holding Manson’s severed head in his direction, striking him with a blow that left him reeling. Without a moment’s hesitation, Hein spun around; several “Silver Wings” blades flashed outward, slicing through the bodies of the two Level 1 zombies. One lost its left leg; the instant it toppled over, Hein’s blade descended to sever its head. The other had its right arm hacked off—though the flesh and sinew still clung together, already beginning to knit back into place.

The creature was massive; as it loomed over Hein, its colossal frame seemed to blot out the very daylight. Hein stomped violently on the zombie's abdomen and sprang into the air. Xiao Yan couldn't make out the precise movements of his technique; he only saw that the zombie's still-healing right arm was sliced ​​clean off, and Hein's knee smashed its jaw to pieces. Just as the zombie staggered backward, Hein suddenly whipped up his left leg—and with a single kick, actually lifted the creature—which surely weighed over 150 kilograms—right off the ground. The instant the zombie lost its balance, Hein’s blade flashed through the air. He then turned his back on the beast and walked toward Xiao Yan, who had slumped to the ground; behind him, the massive creature crashed down with a resounding thud.

"Get up."

His gaze was chillingly cold. Xiao Yan instinctively held his breath, scrambling to his feet—only then did he notice a sharp, stinging pain shooting through his ankle. He knew it wasn't just a sprain; it was very likely a fracture. Yet he had no choice but to endure it. If Hein discovered he was injured, who knew if the man would deem him a liability and simply abandon him?

He could only quicken his pace to keep up with Hein; no matter how excruciating the pain, he forced himself not to show it. The container he carried was heavy, leaving him no choice but to lug it along with both hands.

Why was Hein the only one who had found him? Where were the others?

Could they all be dead? Where was Mark? And Liv...

They had been besieged by three aircraft belonging to the "Surge" organization; this meant their enemies were no longer just zombies, but included the organization's assassins as well.

At that moment, Hein raised his wrist to his lips and issued a command into his communicator: "I've found Xiao Yan. Let's rendezvous at the usual spot."

Hearing this, Xiao Yan finally breathed a sigh of relief; at least they weren't the only ones left alive.

Failing to spot a depression hidden beneath the grass, Xiao Yan lost his balance and tumbled forward, bruising his chin on the fall. He bit down hard on his own tongue, and the metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.

Damn it! What goddamn rotten luck!

Although it was utterly humiliating for a grown man to shed tears, Xiao Yan felt an overwhelming urge to just break down and have a good, long cry. He struggled to scramble to his feet, but the pain from his sprained ankle surged into his mind with multiplying intensity; now, even his temples throbbed. Through the gaps in the grass blades, he could see the retreating figure of Hein, walking further and further away, while not far off, several zombies were already rushing toward Xiao Yan.

*Forget it... just eat me... After all, death is everyone's ultimate end anyway.*

Giving in to despair, Xiao Yan rolled onto his back. A gentle breeze swept along the grass blades, brushing against the tip of his nose. The expanse of azure sky overhead seemed far vaster and more transparent than the holographic dome constructed over the city of Char. Xiao Yan closed his eyes, sensing that the sunlight had suddenly been blocked... *The zombies must have arrived.*

His heart pounded rapidly, his mind replaying the gruesome scene of Manson being torn apart by the undead. He felt a pang of regret; he should have fought tooth and nail to catch up with Hein Burton. After all, drifting off to eternal sleep in a rocking chair with a lazy cat curled in his arms was a completely different matter from being ripped open and disemboweled alive by a horde of zombies!

"Just how long do you intend to sleep?"

Xiao Yan opened his eyes. In the other man's pupils, a deep, profound blue seemed to surge forth like a tidal wave cascading down from the heavens.

Hein knelt on one knee before Xiao Yan, his handsome, chiseled features appearing so sharp and distinct that they seemed capable of leaving an imprint upon the very air itself.

Out of the corner of his eye, Xiao Yan could see the zombies lying sprawled on the ground—Hein had already dispatched them.

"...I can't stand up, Colonel. Why don't you just take Manson's head and go? Just give me a quick, clean thrust of your blade... I want to fall into a sleep from which I never wake."

Xiao Yan couldn't fathom why he would say such things to Hein Burton; perhaps, deep down, he harbored a desire to exact some form of retribution. There was a very real possibility that Hein might actually take him—this burdensome dead weight—and simply put an end to him with a single stroke.

Instead, however, Hein reached out his hand. Xiao Yan’s nerves went inexplicably taut as Hein’s knuckles brushed lightly against his cheek. A faint snapping sound rang out, and Xiao Yan’s shoulders gave a start—but all Hein had done was pluck a single blade of grass. He parted his lips slightly; one could faintly discern the tip of his tongue pressing against the blade of grass as he slowly drew it into his mouth. In that instant, his cold, ascetic face became so sensually charged that it made one’s blood run hot.

Xiao Yan’s heart pounded furiously. It wasn't until the other man withdrew the grass blade from his lips—now glistening with the crystalline saliva from Hein Burton’s mouth—that the moment broke. Hein’s fingers reached out to pinch Xiao Yan’s cheek, forcing his mouth open, and shoved the blade of grass inside.

“Mmph—”

Xiao Yan’s eyes went wide. For that brief moment, his mind went completely blank; it was as if he had lost all capacity to react to the world around him!

It felt as though countless tiny electric currents were coursing through his veins; his muscles tensed involuntarily, and his fingers instinctively dug into the clumps of grass beneath him.

Hein released him and, as he rose to his feet, casually picked up the container. “Let’s go.”

Xiao Yan raised his hand, only then realizing that the wounds on his palm had vanished completely. Even his ankle—which had been throbbing with excruciating pain—showed not a single trace of bruising or swelling.

He stared blankly at Hein’s retreating figure, the fresh scent of grass lingering on his lips and teeth... along with the distinct scent of Hein Burton himself.

The last time Hein had crushed his shoulder, Mark had jokingly suggested that Liv kiss Xiao Yan to heal him. This time, did this count as an indirect kiss with Hein? As the image of Hein’s tongue pressing against the grass blade flashed through his mind, Xiao Yan felt as though his heart were about to explode.

“Hurry up, or die right here.”

Hein Burton turned around, his brows furrowed ever so slightly. The icy chill in his gaze instantly shattered all of Xiao Yan’s fanciful daydreams.

An “indirect kiss”? A “kiss of death” would be a far more accurate description!

Hein had merely used the blade of grass to transfer a small amount of his saliva to Xiao Yan. Once absorbed through Xiao Yan’s oral mucosa, the X-virus contained within that saliva would be able to heal his injured ankle in a matter of moments. Hein strode forward at a brisk pace, while Xiao Yan could only trail behind him, panting heavily. After stumbling and falling awkwardly a few times, Xiao Yan had developed a thick skin; he no longer even found it embarrassing—after all, only Hein Burton was there to witness it.

Perhaps Hein truly could no longer tolerate Xiao Yan’s "turtle's pace"—glacial by special forces standards—for he suddenly hoisted Xiao Yan onto his shoulder.

"Colonel Burton! Colonel! I can walk on my own!"

After all, the sensation of hanging upside down with the blood rushing to one's head wasn't exactly pleasant.

"Shut up."

Xiao Yan sighed. *Fine.* At least being carried by Colonel Burton like this meant he didn't have to struggle to keep up anymore.

His body swayed in rhythm with Hein’s strides. He could spot clusters of wild mushrooms poking their cute, round heads out of the soil, as well as grasshoppers in the undergrowth, startled by their approach and leaping out from between the blades of grass. Everything felt so vibrantly alive.

Perhaps he wasn't entirely out of luck after all; those Class A researchers—forever confined within the laboratories of the Shire Institute—would never get to see sights like these, not even in death.

They arrived at the entrance of a typhoon shelter. Xiao Yan had seen records of such structures in the Central Library’s archives: over two hundred years ago, humans living in regions prone to typhoons and tornadoes would construct these underground shelters, stocking them with food and water to take refuge inside before a hurricane or tornado unleashed its fury.

Hein set Xiao Yan down. The sensation of blood rushing back to his extremities left Xiao Yan feeling momentarily dizzy. Fortunately, they hadn't been walking for very long; otherwise, Xiao Yan was convinced he would have gone down in history as the very first researcher to die of a cerebral hemorrhage.

Hein gently brushed aside the dust obscuring the shelter's door, pushed it open, and glanced back at Xiao Yan. "Get inside."

*Is this the "old spot" Hein was talking about?*

If the assassins from the "Tide Surge" organization were to find them, breaking into this place would be child's play! Then again, it was indeed highly unlikely that anyone would ever think to look for them hiding in a place like this.

Better to be holed up inside a shelter than standing out in the open wilderness, serving as a meal for wandering zombies.

It was pitch black inside. As Xiao Yan took a step across the threshold, he nearly stumbled and fell; however, a hand suddenly clamped down on the back of his neck, and a powerful yank pulled him back to safety. Hein tossed the illuminator downward. Xiao Yan finally saw clearly that the path before him consisted of steps descending at a steep angle of nearly sixty degrees; if he were to actually fall, he might snap his neck and meet an instant, fatal end!

He descended cautiously, taking it one step at a time. Behind him, Hein closed the door to the wind shelter and locked it from the inside.

The illuminator lit up the space—a room measuring less than ten square meters—revealing an environment that was meticulously clean. Devoid of any high-tech information systems, this wind shelter remained in the same primitive state it had occupied two centuries ago. Against the southeast wall stood a steel-frame cot, complete with bedding; opposite it, against the northwest wall, sat a worn-out sofa with a wooden coffee table positioned in front of it.

Hein opened a cabinet and tossed a packet of compressed biscuits into Xiao Yan’s arms.

By now, Xiao Yan was famished. Mark had dragged him out of bed before he’d even had a chance to eat breakfast, and with dusk fast approaching, his stomach was beginning to ache with hunger. This appeared to be a makeshift rendezvous point established by Hein’s unit while on field missions—a place where a modest supply of provisions had been stockpiled.

Taking a bite of the compressed biscuit, Xiao Yan couldn't help but grimace. Designed by the military to ensure adequate intake of protein and other nutrients, these specialized biscuits contained absolutely no moisture—nor, for that matter, any flavor substantial enough to make them palatable. Xiao Yan nearly gagged. Yet Hein simply sat down on the floor, leaning against the cot, and quietly ate his biscuit; the silent, oppressive aura he exuded made even the simple act of swallowing feel like a struggle for Xiao Yan.

Suddenly, a bottle of water was tossed into Xiao Yan’s arms.

"Don't waste it."

Xiao Yan understood what Hein meant. Although the Char had developed a highly efficient and low-cost technology for filtering seawater into fresh water—a method that had been in use for over a century—they were currently out in the field on a mission. Potable water was not readily available here; every single drop was precious.

In truth, Xiao Yan was parched. Tilting his head back, he downed a third of the bottle in less than thirty seconds. The compressed biscuit in his stomach swelled upon contact with the water, and the resulting sensation of fullness washed over him, bringing with it a sudden wave of drowsiness. Hein leaned back against the headboard of the bed, while Xiao Yan silently took a seat on the sofa; tilting his head, he crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

The light from the illuminator gradually dimmed, casting the entire windbreak shelter into gloom.

Nighttime was ill-suited for movement outdoors—especially here, in a desolate wasteland devoid of any cover save for a few dilapidated farmhouses dating back over two centuries. Even Xiao Yan, who possessed absolutely no combat experience, knew that any activity should be postponed until daybreak. Accustomed to the climate-controlled environments of Shire and other bases, Xiao Yan soon felt the biting cold. He hugged his arms tighter, unable to find sleep again; his body began to shiver uncontrollably, and he could feel the fine hairs on his arms standing on end.

Hein, who had been leaning against the headboard all this time, appeared before him at some point without a sound. "Get up."

"Huh... what?" Xiao Yan groggily opened his eyes. Hein reached out a hand and pressed his palm against Xiao Yan’s forehead. "You’re running a fever. Go sleep in the bed."

Xiao Yan’s mind felt utterly weary and refused to function, yet he still couldn't help but question what he had just heard.

Hein was actually telling him to sleep in the bed? Wasn't Hein the highest-ranking officer here? By all rights, that single, solitary bed should belong to Hein alone.

Xiao Yan rose unsteadily to his feet. He had endured far too much that day; after being submerged in water, his military uniform had been soaked through. Although the nanotech fabric dried quickly, the water temperature at the time had been a mere ten-odd degrees; he had caught a chill. Coupled with his subsequent exhaustion, frayed nerves, and the sharp drop in temperature after nightfall, his body’s physiological balance had completely broken down.

He walked over to the bed, lifted a corner of the blanket, and climbed in. The sensation of warmth made his drowsiness deepen even further.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he became aware that Hein was sitting beside his bed, pressing a gun against his arm.

Was he going to kill him? And then simply abandon his body here?