Global Mutations:I Built a Safe House

Chapter 8 Who’s Knocking?

Outside, the mercury climbed toward forty degrees Celsius. Inside Luo Qingtian’s apartment, her dedicated air-cycling and cooling systems—installed by the security firm—kept the temperature at a crisp twenty-five degrees.

By mid-afternoon, she’d pushed her workout to the brink. Emerging from the hidden gym, she returned to her vault to feed the tiger cub, then stepped into a hot shower. Refreshed, she checked her phone. The building group chat was still in uproar:

Resident A: “This weather is insane—zombies roaming outside, and it just keeps getting hotter!”Resident B: “I saw more shamblers at the gate this morning. Should we lock all the doors?”Resident C: “Who’s going to be brave enough to do that?”

Luo Qingtian found it tedious. She tucked her phone away and headed for the kitchen to make ice—her vault’s freezer still had power, and she planned to stockpile ice blocks while she could.

A loud knock echoed through her door. She frowned—hers was the only unit on this top floor. Who could it be? Ignoring it, she poured water into her ice maker.

The knocking returned—louder and more insistent. Irritated, she opened the inner door slightly, then cracked the outer security gate. Standing there was a sixty-year-old woman, eyes darting greedily into Luo Qingtian’s cool apartment.

“What do you want?” Luo Qingtian’s tone was sharp. The woman shivered in the heat but managed a shaky smile.

“You live here alone?” she asked.

Annoyed, Luo Qingtian slammed the door shut.

The woman—who lived three floors below—had run out of food. With a hungry grandson at home, she’d noticed Luo Qingtian’s lavish two-story renovation and impenetrable doors, and decided to beg for scraps. She’d tried every excuse to get in, but Luo Qingtian refused even to speak to her.

“Knock, knock, knock!” The woman’s frantic pounding resumed. Luo Qingtian’s eyes narrowed. She opened the door again.

“Knock one more time and I’ll make sure you never knock again.” Her voice was ice.

The woman gasped. “I— I just wanted a bite! There are zombies everywhere, and we’ve run out of food!”

Luo Qingtian sneered. “Why would I have food? Get lost—and if I see you here again, I won’t hesitate to cut off your hand.” She slammed the door so hard the hallway rattled.

Below, the zombies outside the building gate responded to the noise: dozens of shamblers converged and pounded on the lobby doors.

The old woman, terrified by the crashing and the undead hammering, fled back down the stairs to her own apartment, clutching her grandson.

Luo Qingtian reopened her door, retrieved a heavy padlock from her vault, and secured the hallway entrance. The zombies lost interest and drifted away, though more shamblers gathered outside Unit 2’s doors.

Returning to her table, Luo Qingtian ate in silence while skimming the group chat:

Resident D: “Whoever caused all that noise—is that person trying to kill us?”Resident E: “Yeah, it was that upstairs girl—so ruthless!”

Luo Qingtian recognized the posts as coming from the desperate old woman. She muted the chat and switched to the news. Every headline screamed: “Zombie Virus Outbreak—Residents Urged to Stay Indoors.”

She scoffed. In her last life, there had been no rescue. She had stolen a car and fled on her own.

As she scrolled, she saw livestreamers posting footage of the outbreak—one fearless host had lowered his phone into the street below an apartment window. The camera captured a grotesque zombie’s face, split by a gash from eye to mouth, a bone-deep hole in its throat.

Luo Qingtian braced herself to exit the stream—but the host’s phone emitted the chittering growl of the undead. The camera spun as the host was seized by zombies, and a chorus of excited snarls crackled through the speaker.

She turned away, mouth curled in revulsion. In a world gone mad, silence was the only refuge—and she’d carved out her own fortress within it. Luo Qingtian shook her head as she heard the commotion below. “Never tempt fate,” she muttered. Exiting her livestream, she bent over her meal—shengjian buns and millet porridge—and polished off a dozen before heading back to the hidden gym.

Outside, the temperature had pushed forty-five degrees, yet her system-whisper-quiet cooling held her suite to twenty-five degrees. She threw herself into another punishing workout, driving past exhaustion until her body trembled with the effort.

That afternoon, she finally stopped. Back in her vault she fed the cub, then luxuriated in a hot shower. Toweling off, she paused at her window as shouting echoed up from the courtyard.

Peering down, she saw a black Hummer idling by the gate. Five armed men climbed out, their rifles gleaming in the sun. In moments, they cleared every stray zombie from the grounds. Then their leader grabbed a megaphone and announced,

“Survivors, listen up! We’re the official rescue team. This area is secure. We’ve set up a safe base to the south. Anyone wishing to join us, gather your belongings—we’ll transport you there!”

Heads popped out of windows across the complex.

“Are you soldiers?” one resident called.“Why didn’t you come earlier? We’ve run out of food—do you have rations?” another asked.

On the building’s chat app, a skeptical voice named Yang Guang typed:

“They don’t look like soldiers—more like thugs.”“Agreed!” others replied.

Undeterred, the supposed rescuers waited until dozens of tenants gathered below, hauling shopping bags. A man yelled up, “When does your vehicle arrive? We’re ready!”

Suddenly, the leader raised his rifle and fired four quick rounds into the crowd. Screams rang out as bodies dropped. The survivors watched in horror, frozen in place.

“They’re bandits, not soldiers!” someone in the chat typed.“What do we do? They’re taking over!”

From Building 1 came the sounds of sobbing women, male laughter, and more gunshots. No one dared intervene.

Luo Qingtian yawned and resumed her meal, unfazed. After a while, the gunfire ceased. Then Yang Guang posted again:

“Brother Qiang says if we hand over all our food and deliver two women a day for his pleasure, he’ll protect us.”

The chat fell silent.

Chu Xiao shot back: “You’re a monster. How dare you!”The bandit answered in voice: “Monster? Try calling the cops—if you can. This country’s gone; no one will save you. Surrender now, or die.”

The residents remembered how every 110 and 119 call had gone unanswered since the outbreak. No connection—no rescue. Panic rippled through the group. Some peered down and shouted “we surrender,” hoping it would spare them.

But Chu Xiao rallied them:

“They’re only five men. Our power and communications still work—that means someone, somewhere is still maintaining order. We won’t be abandoned. We will be rescued!”

Her message drew no further replies—until, inexplicably, a horde of zombies broke through the gate and charged toward Building 1. Screams echoed from the stairwells.

“Why are zombies storming in?” someone asked.Chu Xiao answered: “Their gunfire drew them here—and all that blood on the steps. Of course the walkers came!”

As the terrified residents realized how close they’d come to handing themselves over, they huddled in silence. On the third floor of Building 1, a lone man finally climbed out of a window—and vanished into the chaos below.