doomsday shelter

Chapter 8：Virus mutation

Song Yunian meticulously tuned into each channel, gradually unraveling the veracity therein. Merely yesterday evening, amidst the Eastern European standoff, a conflagration erupted between the American and Russian forces, swiftly evolving into a theatre of total war. The Russian military, misconstruing the intent behind the American intercontinental ballistic missile launches, precipitously engaged their own nuclear arsenal, targeting major cities across America, Europe, and Japan. In retaliation, nations like the United States and the United Kingdom reciprocated with nuclear strikes against Russia, China, and India, thereby compelling China into a defensive stance.

In a bid to ensure mutual annihilation, nuclear powers swiftly razed the major cities of the world overnight, leaving no nation to profit akin to the proverbial fishermen. Nuclear fallout is poised to blanket the atmosphere in the ensuing weeks, heralding the advent of a nuclear winter, wherein the Earth shall be barren, bereft of verdure.

A malignant viral mutation, triggered by nuclear blast radiation, has precipitated a pandemic, disseminating across the globe. Major server hubs lie in ruins, and the international cyberspace lies severed. While the extent of each nation's epidemic remains ambiguous, the dwindling foreign language broadcasts portend a dire predicament.

Recalling the previous night's repose, Song Yunian seemingly discerned distant rumblings, though they failed to warrant attention. Little did he anticipate the gravity of the ensuing calamity. Sequentially, he attempted to dial the contacts stored in his device, yet not a single call connected. Whether powered off, unanswered, or beyond the service purview, his attempts remained futile. Undoubtedly, myriad signal towers had also succumbed to disrepair. He silenced the radio, removed his headphones, and sank into the sofa with a deep sigh, an "alas" escaping his lips.

Upon observing Liang Jiajia, akin to a soul adrift, her tears spent, her silence deafening, Song Yunian approached to offer solace. "Jiajia, I comprehend your anguish; I, too, am bereaved. Yet, we must muster the fortitude to endure, for only then can we assuage our mother's anxieties."

Liang Jiajia collapsed into Song Yunian's embrace, clutching him fervently, lamenting, "Darling, I'm beset with fear! Are these afflicted akin to the zombies depicted in our past cinematic indulgences? What course shall we pursue?"

"Fret not! Our abode stands remote from urbanity, sparsely populated. It shall be some time ere any revenants encroach upon us. Mother spoke of a secure refuge in the basement; let us venture thither anon," Song Yunian reassured.

"We cannot forever shelter in the depths! What recourse shall we have when our provisions are depleted?" Liang Jiajia queried anxiously.

"Rest assured, a solution shall present itself. Let us first consult with Doctor Zhang and his cohorts, to discern their stratagems," Song Yunian suggested.

"I yield to your wisdom!" With her declaration, she buried her visage in Song Yunian's bosom, his shirt now a testament to her tears and nasal effluvia.

Suddenly, a rapping at the door startled them both. It was Zhang Jian. Liang Jiajia, still clad in her night attire, hastened to attire herself. Song Yunian unlatched the door to find Zhang Jian and his kin, five in number, standing anxiously. Inviting them within, Song Yunian queried, "Doctor Zhang, are you privy to the exigencies unfolding beyond?"

"We were apprised of the circumstances last eve. Bereft of contact with our kin, we sought you out, to collectively devise our ensuing course," Zhang Jian intoned with composure.

"The sustenance within the estate shall not suffice indefinitely; it proves an ephemeral stratagem. Moreover, the specter of the undead's advent upon these premises remains indeterminate," Song Yunian articulated.

"Undead, you say? Have you beheld them? Are they not confined to the celluloid realm of motion pictures? The broadcasts speak of the infected," Zhang Meng interjected, her countenance knitted with concern.

"I've neither espied them nor engaged them, merely surmised. Yet, their resemblance to cinematic revenants, their predilection for biting and contagion, is disconcerting," Song Yunian elucidated.

"Appalling! What measures can we enact?" Zhang Meng grimaced.

"I've procured a telescope of prodigious range. This abode, perched atop the hill, affords an unparalleled vantage. Let us ascend and survey the present state of W town," Zhang Jian proposed.

"Capital idea! Let us proceed forthwith!" Song Yunian beamed.