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墨書 Inktalez
Chapter 236: Countdown 5
At the intersection of maritime routes and the Yangtze River, in the northernmost part of the Shengsi Islands, lies a mist-shrouded island known as Flower Bird Island. The island resembles a soaring swallow, crowned by the First Great Lighthouse of the Far East and home to the Cloud Cave, which is said to reach the ocean floor. The landscape is beautiful, adorned with lush flora, making it a popular destination for vacationers seeking to escape into nature.
Flower Bird Island is isolated yet strategically positioned, with ferries being the only means of access. During the outbreak of the pandemic in the sweltering summer heat, many sought refuge on the island to escape the oppressive temperatures and narrowly avoided the initial wave of viral chaos, managing to cling to life. However, this respite was short-lived. As a tourist area, Flower Bird Island boasted stunning scenery but lacked sufficient supplies. Once communication and power were disrupted, those who had survived began to grow restless.
For those who had perished in the cities, the island's visitors were fortunate; they had evaded danger and found themselves in a place free from Zombie threats. As long as they worked together, survival should not have been difficult. The only pressing issue was fresh water. Initially, power had not been cut off, and desalination equipment was operational. While it might not suffice for long-term living for over a thousand people, it could address immediate needs. Most of those who had come to the island were young and vigorous; if they united their efforts, they could establish a safe living area.
Yet reality proved harsh. They were too fortunate—fortunate enough never to have witnessed death, never to have seen cold corpses open their eyes again or living people being devoured by Living Dead. Thus, when power and communication ceased, and they could no longer receive news from the mainland, restlessness set in. There would always be someone among them who would break first, and that sense of panic would spread like wildfire, overwhelming most people's defenses in an instant.
People clamored for boats to return to land because resources on the island were dwindling; their loved ones and friends remained on the mainland.
The Indigenous People of Flower Bird Island were few in number. Due to a lack of fresh water, they had gradually migrated to nearby Zhoushan islands over the years. Later, as tourism developed on Flower Bird Island, maintenance staff arrived for scenic upkeep and extensive greening efforts. Following these developments, even more Indigenous People left; fishermen who had relied on the sea for generations exchanged their ancestral homes for money and ultimately perished on unfamiliar shores. Thus, at that time on Flower Bird Island, aside from tourists, only Indigenous People and park staff remained.
Tourists made up the majority; since it was not during peak travel season, there were only a few thousand visitors. If they insisted on leaving, two ferries could easily transport them away. The management of the island's tourist area convened a meeting to gather opinions from everyone present and ultimately agreed to send boats out. The ferry company staff were eager to leave as well; once consensus was reached, they wasted no time filling two ferries with fuel and setting off with tourists, park staff, and some Indigenous People.
Once the boats departed from the vast island, silence fell over it; voices faded into stillness as everything returned to calmness. The few tourists and Indigenous People who chose to stay divided up the remaining supplies and settled in for an indefinite wait—waiting for rescue ships carrying troops or waiting for death to arrive first.
Time passed slowly on the island without seasons marking its passage; especially with severe shortages of fresh water, despair grew among those who remained.
A month went by without any sign of returning boats; half of their water supply remained.
Three months passed with no boats returning; only a small portion of their water supply was left.
Five months had passed, the ship had not returned, and the water was gone.
During these grueling three months, six people had died due to a shortage of medicine, and nine others had attempted to reach a nearby island for help, but they never returned after setting out to sea. There was still one ferry left, but it had no crew. The Indigenous People, men, women, and children, numbered over sixty, and with the tourists, there were barely a hundred. Food was not an issue; Flower Bird Island was rich in seafood, and with the Indigenous People around, they would not starve for the time being. However, fresh water was a significant problem. Flower Bird Island had no fresh water; the desalination equipment was out of power and could not operate, and the manual distillation method could not produce drinkable water. Fortunately, the island was lush with vegetation; although it rained infrequently, they could at least collect dew. This method was slow but better than dying of thirst.
Thus, dozens of people persevered for nearly another month until one morning they finally spotted a Sea Vessel breaking through the waves!
At first, those on lookout thought it might be a mirage; after all, nearly half a year had passed, and they had long since lost hope. The vast majority had prepared for the worst. Suddenly seeing several Sea Vessels approaching together left everyone confused and unsure of what to do. Men, women, and children gathered at the lighthouse; those who climbed up to look through telescopes watched intently until the Sea Vessel anchored at the shore. Only then did they confirm that they were not dreaming—there really was a ship coming!
The remaining Survivors of the island were ecstatic; they cried out in joy as they rushed to the dock, filled with almost reverent anticipation to welcome their savior... However, those who disembarked from the ship were not a heroic rescue team.
There were two ships in total: one was an enormous Super Tanker, and the other was a somewhat slender warship. The vessels did not appear to be there for rescue but rather seemed to be fleeing. The hulls bore visible signs of charred damage from a fire that had ravaged them; both ships showed varying degrees of damage. It looked like it was already a miracle that they had reached the coast.
There were many people on board—soldiers as well as civilians, with civilians making up the majority. The soldiers disembarked to clear a path while leading the civilians in silence and order onto the dock. Most of these individuals wore expressions of indifference; there was no joy or sorrow on their faces—only numbness. The island Survivors stared blankly at the throng of people before them, their last glimmer of hope shattered.
What followed was uneventful. Many individuals who appeared to hold higher status disembarked from the warship, surrounded by soldiers as if on an undercover visit. An officer approached to negotiate with the island Survivors; after a brief conversation, they numbly led a group of over a thousand refugees back to their living quarters. The sight of two groups of refugees gathering together in confusion was quite spectacular.
After a brief period of resettlement and adjustment, the once-silent island buzzed with activity again after half a year. The island Survivors were astonished at how quickly these newcomers shifted their emotions while also feeling grateful that they hadn’t given up—they had finally awaited an opportunity to survive. Indeed, these newcomers were not a rescue team for refugees; they themselves were fleeing from disaster. However, unlike the Indigenous People...
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