Surviving the Game as a Zombie - Chapter 84

“Let’s go, let’s go.” Tang Yu urged her teammates. More and more bl00d zombies were gathering around the light. If they stayed any longer, an accident was bound to happen.

Everyone felt a sense of panic and quickened their pace, moving deeper along the corridor.

The corridor made two turns, and the water-filled glass pools came to an end. Further ahead, they ran into a metal wall.

Tang Yu could see clearly that this wall was an elevator door. It was very strange—what kind of research institute would install an elevator deep inside a wall?

The elevator door wasn’t sealed shut. A gap, wide enough for one person, remained in the middle. The metal on either side of the gap was twisted and torn, its surface smeared with several layers of bloodstains, as if someone had forcibly pried the doors open with their bare hands.

It looked like the A-zombie must have escaped through here.

“Let me borrow the light.” Song Lengzhu took the light from Zhou Zhou, gripped a clean area of the elevator door with one hand, and turned sideways to poke her head inside.

Everyone watched her nervously, breaking into a cold sweat on her behalf. If something was hiding in the elevator shaft, it would be disastrous.

After a few moments, Song Lengzhu pulled herself back out.

“What did you see?” Xiao Li asked eagerly, forgetting the divide between their two teams.

“I can’t see the car. There are only steel cables in the shaft, and they’re rusty. It probably hasn’t been in operation for a long time.” Song Lengzhu paused, then continued, “The elevator’s traction machine is right overhead, which means it doesn’t go up to the third floor. This elevator goes down.”

Down. Tang Yu frowned, deep in thought.

This elevator door was embedded deep within the wall, with the corridor as its only entrance and exit. It seemed that even when the base was operational, this elevator was meant to be concealed and was not publicly known.

So, what was down there?

Xiao Li’s eyes widened. “It doesn’t lead to some kind of creepy laboratory, does it? Like for illegal human experiments or something…”

Zhou Zhou chimed in, “That’s not impossible.”

“Huh?” Xiao Li had only been joking, but Zhou Zhou had endorsed her idea. For a moment, everyone was a little surprised.

Zhou Zhou said, “I was concerned when I saw the research achievements displayed in the main building. Most of them are byproducts of neurobiology. Although the connection is distant, I can tell. The brain’s structure and function are the most challenging subjects in this field, but they are also heavily restricted. Achieving so many significant results would have been very difficult under the ethical and moral standards that existed before the apocalypse.”

Song Lengzhu asked, “You mean someone in this research facility was illegally studying the brain?”

“It’s very likely. For certain fanatical scientists, casting aside ethics and morality to directly study the human body or living brains is a great temptation, and it could very well lead to astonishing results. But such actions are a violation against both the test subjects and the public. In a civilized world, this requires very strict regulations. Even in the interstellar era, where significant progress has been made in brain research, there’s a set of laws to regulate live brain experiments. I hadn’t thought much of it at first. Without these hidden doors or the water tanks concealed in the walls, this might have just been an ordinary, legitimate laboratory. But with these additions, it becomes very suspicious.”

“Besides, the mutated creatures all over this compound haven’t been found anywhere else, and they haven’t left this area of their own accord. With all these signs, it’s hard to say it’s unrelated to the experiments here.” Zhou Zhou’s expression was unusually serious, and her tone grew a few shades graver.

Song Lengzhu handed the light back to Zhou Zhou and glanced at Tang Yu. “I’m going down to take a look.”

She showed no hesitation.

Song Lengzhu looked directly into Tang Yu’s eyes. Her unspoken question was clear: Are you coming with me?

Her expression was unreadable, showing neither expectation nor any other emotion. Whether Tang Yu followed or not would not affect her decision.

Tang Yu swallowed and slowly nodded.

Upon receiving her answer, Song Lengzhu looked away and slipped sideways through the gap in the elevator doors.

The steel cable was a bundle of five strands, as thick as two hands clasped together. Song Lengzhu’s group, wearing thick gloves, had no reservations about gripping the cable and sliding down. Tang Yu’s group, however, was a different story. They were bare-handed; if they tried to slide down like that, their palms would probably spark.

Tang Yu thought for a moment, then returned to the previous buffer zone. She grabbed the few sterile suits and wrapped them around her hands for protection.

Descending an elevator shaft required immense core strength. One needed to control their speed, know when to grip and release, and be able to stop on a dime. Fortunately, Tang Yu, Jin Ye, and Xiao Li had significantly improved their physical fitness recently. Had they come here a month ago, they might not have been able to manage it.

The swaying steel cable made a clanging metallic sound. Tang Yu peered down and, by the beam of Zhou Zhou’s light, realized the shaft was incredibly deep; she couldn’t see the bottom.

They had already descended past the first-floor level, but the elevator shaft had no exit there.

As expected, it was a hidden passage.

By the time Tang Yu’s feet touched solid ground, she had no idea how much time had passed. In an environment like this, it was easy to lose one’s sense of time and space. Tang Yu only felt that they had slid down a distance equivalent to several stories before she saw an elevator door set into the shaft wall.

The door was wide open. Beyond it was pitch black. Zhou Zhou shone her light around, revealing a wide, cylindrical corridor. The snow-white walls on either side reflected the light, while the floor and ceiling were also a ghastly white. There weren’t many bloody footprints on the ground, just one or two rows of dark stains, their age impossible to determine.

The corridor was extremely wide. The incandescent light tubes overhead were all intact, but without power, they no longer worked.

Song Lengzhu’s group of four was waiting at the elevator entrance. When Tang Yu’s party arrived, she said, “We’re about… ten meters below the surface.”

Ten meters, roughly the depth of an abandoned city subway station.

Jin Ye stood beside Tang Yu, her brow furrowed. “This isn’t the Leader’s main base up ahead, is it?”

The A-zombie had deliberately led them to the second-floor lab, then fled in a hurry after being outmatched. It was highly likely she had gone to find her teammates. They hadn’t forgotten that the other side also consisted of three people. There was definitely something wrong with this underground space.

Tang Yu quickly said, “Spit, spit, spit! Jin Ye, you’re jinxing us. Don’t say things like that.”

Xiao Li came to her defense. “That’s because Jin Ye is level-headed and observant. A lot of her guesses turn out to be right. You should listen to her, Tang Yu.”

Well, now she’s defending her.

“I know, I know!”

Jin Ye took a step forward, partially shielding Xiao Li behind her, while also cautioning Tang Yu, “We have to be extremely careful.”

The corridor soon came to an end, opening into an extremely spacious laboratory. Unlike the one on the second floor, the equipment here looked far more sophisticated and was clearly very expensive. The room was packed with all sorts of apparatus, as well as many independent, capsule-like offices. Through their glass windows, they could see delicate instruments arranged inside.

To everyone’s astonishment, the laboratory was lit.

It wasn’t the faint glow of instruments, but actual, functioning incandescent lights that bathed the entire silver-white laboratory in a bone-chilling light, devoid of any warmth.

The vast laboratory was empty, with no sign of where the A-zombie might be hiding.

Song Lengzhu’s gaze was sharp as a sword as she scanned the laboratory. Her eyes swept past Tang Yu’s face before she gave a hand signal to the twins. The twins then pulled two brick-like objects from their backpacks and affixed one to each side of the laboratory entrance.

Tang Yu didn’t know what the objects were, but seeing the twins make no further moves, she didn’t dwell on it and stepped inside the lab.

A piece of equipment resembling an operating table lay before them. At its head was a set of precise, semi-circular instruments entwined with wires and metal tubes—likely a device meant to be fitted over a person’s head.

“I was wrong,” Zhou Zhou said. “With this level of funding and equipment, this isn’t some secret experiment that a single scientist could have set up.”

It was true. The equipment here was obviously expensive, even the incandescent lights were specialized tubes. And despite the base being abandoned for so long, there was still power and air circulation. This underground laboratory must have a complete power and ventilation system, independent from the main base.

This wasn’t something a single person or team could have built. It was likely a project sanctioned by the research base, but one that couldn’t be made public.

The group moved with light footsteps, their vigilance raised to the highest level, as they crept deeper into the laboratory.

Tang Yu switched her ability to Precognition. She knew full well that the enemy was in the shadows while they were in the open. It was highly likely their every move was being monitored.

Her team and Song Lengzhu’s moved forward in a defensive formation, one on the left and one on the right. The twins periodically pulled out their “bricks,” attaching them to nearby equipment on both sides.

Only Zhou Zhou was wandering about, looking nothing like someone who had just walked into the lion’s den. She touched one thing, examined another, looking as if she wished she could haul the entire laboratory back to their camp.

“Tang Yu,” Zhou Zhou suddenly called out. “Look over there.” She stretched out her hand and pointed.

Everyone’s gaze was drawn to where she was pointing.

It was a row of small glass jars filled with an amber-colored solution in which many impurities floated. At first, no one realized what they were looking at. It was only when they drew closer that Tang Yu gasped.

They were brains.

It was impossible to tell what creature they belonged to, but they were perfectly preserved in the solution. They could even clearly see the sulci on the cerebral cortex.

“Human brains,” Zhou Zhou said with certainty. She had seen and handled many of them; the zombies she dissected also had brains, after all.

Tang Yu felt a chill crawl over her skin. She asked Zhou Zhou, “Are these dead brains, taken from corpses? Or were they living?”

“Ah, that I don’t know.” Without conducting the relevant research, it would be impossible to tell with the naked eye. “But without maintenance for the culture medium and refrigeration equipment, any living brain would have become a dead one by now,” Zhou Zhou said.

There wasn’t just one such setup. Looking further, the area was packed with them. There weren’t just human brains, but also other, unidentifiable things. It seemed this entire section was a storage area for human tissue.

Farther on, the small glass jars gave way to larger ones, in which dark shapes floated. Having seen the submerged bl00d zombies earlier, the group was already mentally prepared and had their suspicions. As they drew closer, their fears were confirmed. Human bodies were floating in the tanks.

The people in the tanks were men and women, adults of all ages. Their bodies were intact, their eyes gently closed, and their expressions peaceful. Dressed in loose white shirts and pants, they looked merely asleep, showing no signs of zombification.

Song Lengzhu’s gaze lingered on their clothing, and she stood stunned for a long moment.

Xiao Qi lacked such composure. She turned to Song Lengzhu. “Cap… Captain Song, isn’t the Leader wearing clothes just like these?” They had come face-to-face with the Leader before, so they had naturally seen what she wore.

Hearing this, Tang Yu shifted her gaze to the glass tanks, carefully examining the clothing of the people inside. They were very simple white short-sleeved shirts and shorts, with no shoes. On the chest of each shirt was the symbol of a golden tree of life.

Xiao Li asked, “The Leader wears clothes like this? She… she didn’t climb out of one of these tanks, did she?”

At her question, everyone looked up and realized that several of the tanks were, in fact, empty.

A chill crept up the back of everyone’s necks. They were all unnerved by Xiao Li’s speculation. These humans must have been in here for over a year. How could they possibly still be alive? And have the strength to climb out of the tanks?

Even if the Leader really was one of these test subjects, the empty glass tanks weren’t broken. Logically, it should be impossible to open this kind of experimental equipment from the inside. Unless someone had let the Leader out.

Everyone’s thoughts naturally turned to the A-zombie, who was, after all, wearing a lab coat.

“Stop, stop, stop. Don’t let your imaginations run wild,” Tang Yu urgently reined in her teammates. Once their wild speculation started, it knew no bounds.

The situation had developed far beyond their initial speculations. Compared to the possibility of her being a test subject from one of these tanks, they now desperately hoped the Leader was just a simple player.

Zhou Zhou took a file folder from a hook next to one of the glass tanks. It was like a medical chart, recording all sorts of information. The cover sheet listed the subject’s name, gender, age, allergy history, physical condition, and the personnel in charge.

The first page contained an electroencephalogram and related values. The following pages were filled with data analysis of various neural electrical signal activities.

Zhou Zhou studied it for a long time and discovered that the electrical signals generated by the test subjects’ brain activity were extremely active, far exceeding the average and reaching a level that should be impossible for a human.

Yet in the “Status” column of the file, a researcher named “Du Jiexu” had written the word “Normal.”

Zhou Zhou stared at the test subject in the glass tank, the corner of her mouth twitching. Am I the abnormal one, or are they?