Volume One Mutation Chapter Twenty-Seven Subway Crisis
All the soldiers gripped their guns nervously, aiming at the pitch-black subway tunnel. The sound of something crawling grew louder and louder, as if the hidden terror lurking in the darkness would rush forth at any moment.
Faced with this unknown fear, even the bravest souls would tremble; it was a natural human response. Wu Feng was no exception—his mind was a blank, seized by tension. In the narrow passage, on one side lay the light, but swarming all around were countless mutated rats. Turning back meant only being torn apart by them. On the other side was the most dreadful darkness of the apocalypse. It could be said that the most dangerous predators often hunt at night, drawn to, living in, and reveling in the darkness.
No one knew what kind of monster would leap out of the tunnel the next instant. All they could do was focus intently, guns raised, waiting in vigilant defense. At last, one soldier could bear it no longer. He produced a GB grenade, intent on throwing it. His teammate beside him stopped him: “Are you trying to get us killed? If you throw a grenade here, do you want us all dead?”
A standard grenade has a blast radius of eight meters, but a GB grenade’s explosion covers five to six meters, and its shrapnel is lethal within twenty-six meters. In the exposed environment of the subway, one GB grenade could wipe out most of them—if luck failed, the mutant creatures wouldn’t even need to lift a claw.
Realizing his foolishness, the soldier put the grenade away and took up his gun again. In times of crisis, people can lose their ability to think, which is why having teammates is so important—the strength of the group always outweighs the individual.
The soldier’s action gave Wu Feng an idea. He speculated that whatever was in the tunnel feared the light, perhaps due to some unknown change; otherwise, they would not lurk in this underground passage. He took out an incendiary grenade and hurled it deep into the darkness. It shattered on the ground, the fuel inside igniting instantly, illuminating much of the tunnel.
The creatures in the darkness were revealed by the blaze. The crawling sounds came from countless giant spiders, each as tall as a person’s waist. They clung to the tunnel’s walls and even the ceiling, their bodies packed together. Startled by the sudden light, the spiders retreated into the shadows, vanishing from sight, though the crawling noise persisted.
“Captain! They seem afraid of fire. Should we throw more incendiary grenades?” someone asked.
“How many incendiary grenades do you all have? Count them. I have two left,” Wu Feng said, checking his gear.
“I have three!” another replied.
“I have one—the rest were used in that warehouse.”
“I’m out!”
“I’ve got two.”
After the tally, the dozen or so soldiers had a total of fifteen incendiary grenades remaining. Wu Feng’s expression grew grave: without flammable material, an incendiary grenade would burn for only a short time, its main effect being the high-temperature blast to kill enemies. This meant that even if they used all the grenades, they could only hold out for twenty minutes.
“Take off your clothes,” Wu Feng ordered after some thought.
The soldiers immediately understood his intent and began stripping off jackets and trousers, piling their clothing on the ground. Wu Feng took two garments, balled them up, and tossed them onto the fire. The flames gradually consumed the heat-resistant combat uniforms, burning fiercely.
Thus, a stalemate settled over the scene. The mutated spiders in the tunnel, whether afraid of light or fire, dared not advance, while the soldiers could neither retreat nor move forward.
As one piece of clothing after another burned to ashes, the tunnel’s temperature slowly rose. In the sweltering summer heat, everyone suffered from dry mouths and sweating foreheads, gulping water to quench their thirst and cool down.
When more and more had drained their water bottles and only one garment remained to burn, Liu Di licked his cracked lips and spoke: “Captain, if this keeps up, rescue won’t arrive in time—we’ll die of thirst, or be sucked dry by these spiders.”
“Yeah, we can’t hold out much longer. Maybe we should fight them head-on,” another suggested.
Wu Feng’s throat, parched and burning, rasped as he asked, “How long has Zhang Chuang been gone?”
“Almost two hours. At motorcycle speed, he should have reached the safe zone long ago.”
“Then let’s hang on a bit longer. We can’t give up till the last moment. I believe the base has sent a rescue team for us.”
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Finally, the last piece of clothing was consumed by the flames. The squad of soldiers was left in little more than their undergarments, with nothing else to burn.
The firelight waned, darkness slowly reclaiming its territory. The crawling noises in the shadows drew closer. Over all this time, the sounds had grown even denser—there must now be more spiders than ever lurking in the dark.
As the fire was about to die out, Wu Feng tossed another incendiary grenade. With a loud bang, the tunnel was briefly lit again, the burst of heat sweeping over them. This time, the intense heat made their already brittle hair curl, and everyone lay flat on the ground, seeking relief from the hot earth.
Zhao Lei tilted his head back, pouring out the last drop of water from his cup. The heat and sweat had left him extremely dehydrated. Weakly, he said, “Captain, I can’t take it anymore. Let’s fight them—if not the spiders, then those rats outside. I’d rather die fighting than die of thirst.”
The others were in no better state, turning their gazes to Wu Feng. He looked at his comrades, his throat so dry it hurt, and said, “Hold on a bit longer, support is almost here… Mm!” Before he could finish, a thick strand of spider silk shot onto his face, enveloping his whole head, and swiftly dragged him into the darkness.
Everyone was stunned by what they’d just witnessed. Zhao Lei was the first to react, raising his gun and firing into the darkness, with the others joining in, desperately trying to kill whatever lurked there.
Swish!—
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Another strand of silk flew out, sticking to a soldier’s shoulder and dragging him into the shadows. Within moments, his cries faded away.
A wave of terror engulfed the remaining soldiers. No one knew what to do. In panic, one soldier ran up the tunnel to the surface, only to be tackled and swarmed by rats bursting from the corners, his screams echoing with pain.
The firelight, once feeble, suddenly vanished, plunging the tunnel into total darkness. Only a meter ahead of them remained illuminated by sunlight.
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Liu Cong sped through the air, moving so fast that a piercing howl surrounded him, like a supersonic fighter jet slicing through the sky in a flash.
A city appeared in his sight. Though abandoned for months, it still bore traces of a modern metropolis. Yet without the bustle of humanity, the towers and streets were nothing but a lifeless ruin.
After circling the city twice, his watch showed no sign of the team sent to gather supplies. Liu Cong lowered his altitude, sweeping over the area again.
“Still nothing! How can that be? Even if everyone died, the watch should detect them,” he muttered, frowning in confusion.
Looking down, he saw nothing but buildings overgrown with creeping plants and streets crowded with abandoned vehicles—a scene of desolation in the apocalypse.
Refusing to give up, Liu Cong searched once more. Finally, he spotted fresh bloodstains on the ground.
He landed, dipped his finger in the blood, and tested it—slightly sticky, clearly left some time ago. It was a very bad sign: the supply team was missing, and this blood suggested they were in grave danger. Yet, with no bodies around, Liu Cong kept searching.
Even if the victims had been eaten, something would remain. Besides, everyone wore a watch with an embedded tracker chip, capable of sending a signal for a week even if the power was cut. The only explanation was that they were forced to hide in a location without signal. Of course, it was also possible that the monsters’ lair had no signal, or that the team had been eaten and the chips destroyed.