They Called Him TRASH Until He Flew Through a Zombie Apocalypse to Save Humanity!

[0:00]Just as we were about to land. We lost all contact with the Control Tower. The runway was swarming with biting zombies. We had less than 30 minutes of fuel left. Someone was frantically trying to open the cabin door. Others were trying to stop them. As the captain, I had to lead 47 passengers. We had to find a way to survive in a fallen city. But what waited outside the plane... ...was a choice worse than death. I will never forget that afternoon. Sea Gate Control Tower went silent at 3:17 PM. The co-pilot's face turned pale. Through the cockpit window... ...I saw movement on the runway. It wasn't a ground vehicle. It was a crowd of figures tearing each other apart. The altimeter showed 800 feet. The fuel gauge made my heart sink. When I heard the first scream from the cabin, I knew. Sea Gate Tower, this is Flight HC327. Leo's voice was trembling. I am Marcus, 35 years old. I have flown from Cloud River to Sea Gate for seven years. In seven years, I have never lost contact like this. Switch to 121.5. I grabbed the radio. It was the emergency frequency that all aircraft monitor. To all units, this is Flight HC327. Altitude dropping through 5,000. Leo was breaking into a cold sweat. Approach and ground frequencies... Tried them all. I checked the instruments. "Look down there," Leo pointed to the right. Through the thin clouds, the outline of Sea Gate became clear. 3:30 PM. This city of two million people... Hardly any cars were moving on the roads. Altitude: 3,000 feet. The runway is clearly visible. Runway 25. A runway I could land on with my eyes closed. What's that? Leo's voice cracked. "There are people on the runway!" No, they aren't normal people. Their movements are wrong. Their posture is wrong. Altitude: 1,500 feet. Attention passengers, this is your captain. I pressed the PA button, trying to keep my voice steady. Due to a temporary communication failure on the ground... Please fasten your seatbelts and fold your tray tables. Leo looked at me. "Are we really landing?" Not enough fuel for an alternate airport. 2.3 tons. 40 minutes of flight time at most. The nearest alternate is Blue Mountain. It takes 35 minutes just to get there. I can't think about that. Landing gear down. Three green lights. "Gear down, three lights. Leo's hands were shaking. Altitude: 500 feet. I saw them clearly. Their clothes were torn, their movements strange. Pouncing on the ground like beasts. "Should we go around?" Go around to where? Altitude: 200 feet. I must focus. The plane must land safely. The automated voice announces the altitude. The main wheels touch down. A familiar yet strange vibration. Thrust reversers open. Braking. Speed is dropping: 100 knots, 80 knots, 60 knots. What I see outside makes my stomach turn. Human figures lie scattered across the apron. Dark red handprints on the jet bridge glass. And those moving things... They are running toward us. Turn left into E3. Obstacles on the taxiway. Luggage is scattered around an overturned shuttle. Go around it. Keep taxiing. Park at a remote stand. I've made a decision. No jet bridge. It's too dangerous. The moment I shut down the engines... The world becomes terrifyingly quiet. I take a deep breath and start the announcement. Passengers, this is Captain Marcus. I put down the mic and look at Leo. He is pale. "What were those?" I don't know. Claire, the Purser, knocks and enters. "Captain..." People saw... what's happening outside. Her voice is shaking now, too. Calm them down. Should I tell the truth? Tell them we are waiting for ground instructions. She nods and leaves. Leo turns on the emergency frequency receiver. He tries to pick up any signal. I stare out the window. Those things are getting closer. They are circling a Boeing 737 parked next to us. Its cabin door is open. There is blood on the stairs. Hank, the security officer, enters. "Captain Marcus..." It's bad. Passengers in the back want to open the door. They say staying on the plane is just waiting to die. I stand up. "I'll talk to them." I walk out of the cockpit. The atmosphere in the cabin is suffocating. 47 pairs of eyes stare at me--fear, confusion, and anger. Don't give us that official talk! What is happening out there? Mr. Silas, please calm down. Calm down? He points out the window. Look at those things!" Everyone looks outside. One of The Infected is on the 737's wing. It is biting something. It's too far to see, but the movement. That posture is not human. A woman in the back starts crying. We have to leave! Silas shouts. "Fly the plane!" I have to tell the truth. We don't have enough fuel. The cabin goes deathly silent. "There are 2.3 tons left. Only enough for 40 minutes of flight." What do we do? I point 200 meters out the window. Then go refuel! There are twenty..." I pause. The atmosphere grows heavy at the thought of them. No, I say. "We will find a way. The doors are locked. They can't get in." Claire walks over. "Captain, we're receiving a signal." I hurry back to the cockpit. Leo points to the screen. "The ACARS system. The message is brief: "Safe zone established on Emerald Islet." It's 120 nautical miles. We need at least 3.5 tons of fuel. We only have 2.3 tons. I tried calling back, but there's no response. Leo says, "It might be an automated broadcast. The setting sun turns the tarmac blood-red. The shadows of The Infected stretch across the ground. "Leo, calculate the exact fuel consumption." He nods and starts marking the flight chart. I stare at the Fuel Tanker outside. It's so close, yet it feels worlds away. I'm getting off this plane! Staying here is a death sentence! I know the real test has just begun. When survival becomes the only goal... I look at my family photo in the cockpit. Is Cloud River also...? I must keep these people alive. Even if there is only a sliver of hope. The temperature in the cabin begins to rise. Without the engines, the air conditioning has stopped. An hour later, people were already starting to sweat. Can't we open the door for some fresh air? A woman in 28B fanned herself with her boarding pass. No. I stepped out of the cockpit. Silhouettes of The Infected roamed the tarmac. "Turn on the auxiliary power." I told Leo. The APU uses fuel. Run it for ten minutes to ventilate the cabin. But I knew this was only temporary. Everyone. All eyes focused on me. First, you have all seen the situation outside. The Infected are aggressive. The Infected? Is it some kind of virus? I am telling the truth, but judging by their behavior... Several people gasped. Second, our fuel situation. But we received word that Emerald Islet has a safe zone. Yes, so we need to refuel. How? You just said there are over twenty of those things out there! The Fuel Tanker is at Stand 4, 200 meters away. Hank pondered. "200 meters..." Are you crazy? Do you have a better idea? Enough! I raised my voice. "Now is not the time for fighting. Thinking about what?" No way. "I'll find a way to get everyone out." A man in black overalls raised his hand. "Can I ask a question?" Does the fuel tanker need a key? Good question. I looked at Leo, but he shook his head. The man continued, "I'm Graham. I used to work at the airport. Ground vehicle keys are usually in two places. On the sun visor, or in the crew lounge." Where is the lounge? It's closer than the fuel tanker. But there's a problem," Graham rubbed his chin. "Even with the key... ...operating a tanker requires technical skill." Coupling, pressure control, flow regulation... One mistake and things will go wrong. Can you do it? "Theoretically. But I've never done it for real." At least we have a direction. There's one more problem--" Suddenly, a loud thud came from outside. An infected was banging on the nearby 737's fuselage. More infected began to swarm toward the sound. Turn it off. Leo rushed into the cockpit. Seconds later, the APU stopped. The cabin became stifling again. Too late. Several infected were swarming the 737. They were trying to get through the open door. They're sensitive to sound. This is actually an opportunity. Who's going to volunteer for this suicide mission?" Silas sneered. I'll go." The speaker was a young man in seat 35A. He looked under thirty and very fit. "Who are you?" Hunter. I'm a fitness coach. Running fast won't help," Silas said dismissively. "One mistake and it's over. It's better than waiting here to die. Who says we're waiting to die?" The police and army will definitely come! Look outside. Aside from us and that 737, the airport was empty. No other planes were in sight. "This is not normal." Maybe they were all canceled. Maybe the whole city is--" The speaker trailed off. Panic began to spread. A woman sobbed while others searched their bags for medicine. I had to raise my voice. Wait here for a rescue that might never come, or take action. Let's vote. If you agree, I'll have Claire hand out paper and pens. Ten minutes later, the results were in. 31 votes to find a way to refuel. 16 votes to wait for rescue. We refuel and leave. Majority rules. "Silas looked grim but remained silent. Now, who is willing to go out with me? As soon as I finished, Leo was the first to stand up. "I'll go. " No, you need to stay in the cockpit. Then I'll go. "Count me in." Hunter, Hank, and Graham volunteered. Too many people will make us an easy target. That makes sense. Hank said, "Marcus and Graham will go get the keys. Why do you get to decide?" Because we are the ones willing to risk our lives. I stared at him. "If you don't trust us, Go do it yourself." Silas shut up immediately. We need weapons. There are no weapons on board, but there are tools. Claire found metal brackets from the food carts. I grabbed a fire axe from the cockpit. "How will we stay in contact?" Leo pulled out an emergency flashlight. "Three short, three long, three short. The sun was setting low. The shadows of The Infected stretched longer. They looked like the tentacles of a nightmare. We'll leave through the cargo door. It's under the fuselage, hidden from the cabin. Before we left, Claire handed me a bottle of water. "We'll be back." Honestly, I wasn't sure. But I had to show confidence. On the way to the cargo hold, the passengers' stares felt like needles. Some looked hopeful, some doubtful, and some afraid. A little girl held her mother's hand. "Is he going to fight monsters?" Her mother covered her mouth and cried. We reached the cargo door. Hank went down first with professional movements. Hunter followed. Graham was clearly nervous. His legs were shaking. I patted his shoulder. The moment we stepped out, a foul stench hit us. I fought the urge to gag. Most of the Infected were gathered near the terminal. We were safe for now. Hank gestured to follow the plan. He and Hunter went right toward the 737. Graham and I went left, staying close to the fuselage. There were dark stains on the tarmac. It was blood. 50 meters. 100 meters. The ground crew lounge was ahead. The door was ajar. It was going too smoothly, which made me uneasy. A metallic clanging came from Hank's side. They were making noise. Sure enough, the wandering Infected were lured away. They stumbled toward the source of the sound. This was our chance. I froze the moment I pushed the door open. Someone was inside. His exposed skin was an eerie grayish-white. The body moved. He wasn't a zombie; he was still breathing. Help me! The bleeding had stopped, but the wound was festering. What? He coughed violently, spitting up blood. Where? The Control Tower? That's at least 500 meters away across the main runway. Graham and I looked at each other. Leaving him behind would weigh on our conscience. Graham picked up a set of keys. They were for some kind of vehicle. We turned to leave. Please... Ben struggled to crawl up, begging us. The infection was spreading. He knew what he was becoming. I gripped my fire axe. Ben's desperate cries echoed behind us. Outside the lounge, Hank and the others were still making noise. There were already over a dozen of them. I signaled with my flashlight. Hank saw it and began to retreat with Hunter. One of them was incredibly fast. It nearly pounced on Hunter. Hank shoved Hunter aside and was tackled instead. His scream tore through the twilight. The Infected tore into him as blood sprayed everywhere. Hunter tried to save him but was blocked by more of them. Run. We didn't care about being quiet anymore. The three of us ran for our lives. Behind us were the roars of the Infected and Hank's fading screams. We rushed up the stairs. Graham was the first into the cabin. Hunter was second, and I was last. As the door was closing, a pale hand reached in. I hacked it off with my axe. The severed hand fell to the floor, still twitching. The door locked. We were safe. The cabin was deathly silent. Where's Hank? Someone gasped; another began to cry. "I told you people would die. Hunter stood up abruptly and grabbed him by the collar. Enough!" Did you get the keys? Dead silence again. The Control Tower was 500 meters across the runway. Everyone just saw Hank die. No one wanted to take another risk. No..." Graham suddenly spoke. "I remember..." Everyone looked at him. We still have to go to the Control Tower. Yes. It was completely dark. Outside. Rest for tonight. No one objected. Everyone was exhausted, physically and mentally. Claire began distributing the remaining food and water. Supplies on the plane are limited. Save them. Two days. We'll all die here. I went back to the cockpit and looked at the dark runway. Somewhere, the outline of the Control Tower was barely visible. Captain Leo handed me a sandwich. "Eat something." I took it, but I had no appetite. "What do you think is happening out there?" Don't think too much. Maybe the whole country, even the whole world... ...is going through the same disaster. If so, is Emerald Islet really safe? One step at a time. Outside the window, one of The Infected crashed into the landing gear. 3:00 AM. Rear cabin, Silas and a few others huddle together. Their voices are low but intense. Hank is already dead. I get up and walk over. Silas turns around, his eyes bloodshot. "What are you talking about?" A real way out of here. I'm listening. He takes a deep breath. "We think... Are you crazy?" Hunter wakes up. "Those things are everywhere outside. It's not safe here either. They'll find a way in eventually. "What about food and water?" Two days at most. We split up. Silas looks at his followers. "Those willing to come with me... This isn't just waiting to die." But someone has to go out and face death. Silas sneers, "Will it be you?" I can't argue with that. Listen, everyone. What are you doing in the middle of the night? "Trying to survive." Gradually, everyone wakes up. Two choices lie before us. "I think Silas is right." A middle-aged man stands up. "Instead of dying trapped here... Fight for what?" Hunter retorts. "Look at what happened to Hank. Do you have a better plan?" The argument grows more intense. I have to step in. It's the middle of the night. Even if we leave, we must wait for dawn. They can see better in the daylight. At least we will be able to see clearly, too. The two groups face off. Suddenly, a soft voice speaks up. It is a young girl, a recent graduate. What are we voting on? If the majority agrees Silas should leave... ...then open the door. Otherwise, it is false imprisonment. The atmosphere tenses instantly. This isn't imprisonment. Whose safety are you worried about? Silas approaches me. "Yours? Or those cowards?" A burly man, a friend of Hank's, steps forward. Don't forget, Hank died saving people. "Then he was a fool." What did you say? Hunter clenches his fists. "I'm just telling the truth. Silas refuses to back down. "In this situation... ...talking about sacrifice is just stupid." People like you... He looks at me. Silas, I say, trying to stay calm. "If you insist on leaving... ...I won't stop you after dawn. He sneers. "You're the ones hindering our survival. Survival? With all due respect, Silas... ...do you know how many of The Infected are out there? Do you know their behavior patterns?" I don't, but at least the plane provides temporary protection. Silas scoffs at the word. "So you admit it's only temporary. Temporary is better than suicide. Who says it's suicide? Silas turns to the others. "Everyone! I'm a businessman. I don't take bad risks. I've watched them. Those things have a pattern. It's possible to avoid them. You're drawing conclusions after only a few hours?" It's still better than doing nothing. I notice seven or eight people are clearly siding with Silas. They are mostly young men, plus two women. Listen, I say. "I suggest we all calm down. At dawn, if Silas still insists on leaving... ...I will open the cargo door for you. However... Why?" Silas thinks for a moment. "Fine. But I have conditions. We're taking a portion of the food and water." Claire objects immediately. "We barely have enough!" That's our share!" Silas argues. "You lose your share once you leave!" Based on what?" I raise my hand to stop them. "Silas... The supplies on the plane are limited anyway. He thinks for a second. "Fair point. Then I want you to distract those things for us. What? "You need to make some noise from the plane. Draw them over, and we'll leave from the other side. You're using us as bait?" It's mutually beneficial. Silas shrugs. "Aren't you going to the Control Tower anyway? It's on the way." Truly a businessman, always calculating. I refuse. Then we're leaving right now." Silas threatens, "Now?" He walks toward the rear hatch. Wait!" Silas's men surround them. The scene turns chaotic. Stop it! At Row 28, Silas's men are tearing up the seats. They want to smash open the hatch. Crazy! You're all crazy! The other passengers retreat in fear. A child starts crying. Suddenly, everyone goes silent. The Infected outside were drawn by the noise. Through the window, at least five or six of them are slamming into the plane. Look at what you've done! Someone breaks down crying. Silas's face turns pale too. He forces himself to stay calm. "What are you afraid of? They can't get in." However, the hatch's inner lock is already loose. "Was that an accident?" I walk over to check. The situation is worse than I thought. The latch is deformed. It still locks. But its strength is compromised. "Why should we listen to you?" Because the rear hatch is about to give way." Everyone's expression changed instantly. The faint sound of metal snapping. Move! Now!" No one hesitated. Everyone rushed toward the front cabin. Pushing, trampling, and screaming. Evacuate in an orderly fashion!" But it's useless. Panic has completely taken over. The noise grew louder. I looked back and saw a gap in the rear hatch. A pale hand reached inside. Piercing screams filled the air. I grabbed a fire axe and charged. I hacked down with the axe. But the gap remained. More hands were reaching in. Leo! Close the isolation door!" I shouted. The 747 has a cabin isolation system. Leo reacted quickly and pressed the emergency button. The fire door began to slide down. Faster!" The door was halfway down when an infected's head squeezed through. A rotting face with hollow eyes and bared teeth. I swung the axe again. Its skull split, and brain matter splattered. Finally, the isolation door closed completely. But the rear cabin is lost. Our living space is down by a third. This is all your fault! If you hadn't insisted on opening that door! What now? Will those things get inside? Panic, anger, and despair filled the air. Silas was panicking, but he still tried to make excuses. Shut up!" Everyone looked at me. Cause more trouble, and I'll throw you to the Infected myself. He wanted to argue. But then he saw my bloody fire axe. He swallowed his words. Graham, how long will the door hold? It's fire-rated for four hours. Claire, recount the people and supplies. Hunter, get some strong guys together. Take turns guarding the door. Leo, keep trying to contact the outside. Understood. Order slowly returned as everyone got to work. But I knew. The conflict had already torn this group apart. Trust was gone. When survival is the only goal... 5:00 AM. The sky began to brighten. The door was still being pounded. But it held for now. I stood in the cockpit, looking at the Control Tower. I have to go. Not for everyone... But for those who still believe in me. Graham walked over. I have a plan. Use the APU noise to lure the infected to the tail. Then we exit through the front cargo hold. The tail is already compromised. They will swarm the isolation door. We'll leave from the front. That makes sense. I know. I'll go. Leo said, "I'm going with you." I'm coming too. I looked at those who still believed in me and supported me. Thank you. But we can't have too many. Leo and I are enough. Using my authority as captain, I said, "Hunter, you are in charge of security here. Graham, you guide us remotely. They wanted to argue, but finally nodded. Dawn broke. The banging on the isolation door continued. It sounded like a countdown. At 6 AM, it was bright enough to see the apron clearly. It was worse than I imagined. Last night's noise attracted even more of them. There were at least thirty infected. Most were gathered at the tail. Frantically hitting the damaged rear door. APU started. The auxiliary power roared. It worked. The infected were drawn to the sound. More swarmed toward the tail. The area ahead is relatively clear. Leo and I quickly check our gear. Graham hands me a hand-drawn map. The layout of the Control Tower. He lowers his voice: "If you encounter survivors... One more person means one more risk." Use your discretion. Before we leave, Claire hands me two bottles of water. Come back alive. The front cargo door opens slowly. The morning breeze smells of rot. We move quickly along the fuselage. The tower is to the northwest, 500 meters away. Nowhere to hide. We use service vehicles and luggage carts for cover. 50 meters. Everything is going smoothly. 100 meters. Leo suddenly pulls me back. An infected is wandering ahead. It was ground crew once. Its orange vest is torn. Revealing rotten skin. We can't go around it. We must take it out. I grip the fire axe and approach. Its back is to us. It seems to be eating something. Three meters. I raise the axe. Just then, it suddenly turns around. Its rotting face is right in front of me. It's chewing on a piece of unidentifiable meat. No time to think. I swing the axe down. A direct hit to the skull. It falls, twitches, and stops moving. 200 meters. Five or six of the Infected are gathered near a shuttle bus. Taking a detour will add another 100 meters to our trip. We are almost at the edge of the runway. We must cross the runway to reach the Control Tower. The runway is 45 meters wide with no cover at all. If we are spotted, we are dead. Leo points to the right. A small plane is parked in the maintenance area. A Gulfstream G650 business jet. Let's go around that way. We move quickly to the side of the jet. The cabin door is open. We approach carefully. Someone's alive! Leo and I look at each other. Should we go inside? I push the door open and gasp at the sight. There is blood everywhere. A sound comes from the cockpit. A pilot is slumped in his seat. His legs are gone from the knees down. A tourniquet is tied to his thighs, but blood is still seeping out. I give him water. He drinks greedily, then coughs violently. Thank you, " he rasps. His voice sounds like a broken bellows. Yesterday morning..." he says breathlessly. "The boss wanted to leave. The others? All dead. Or turned into..." He points outside. Your legs?" His skin is already turning gray. Please... He grabs my hand. End it for me." Not this request again. Tears stream from his cloudy eyes. I gripped the axe tightly. Thank you..." He closed his eyes. I raised the axe. It came down. Quick and clean. His expression became peaceful. Let's go." Leo patted my shoulder. We left the business jet and moved forward. We were about to cross Runway 7. We lay at the edge of the runway, observing. Then we sprinted. The 45-meter runway felt like 450 meters. My heart pounded, and my breathing grew heavy. We finally reached the other side. The Control Tower was right there. An eight-story building. The main door was locked tight. The side door. Graham said there's a staff entrance." Found it. The moment I pushed it open, a foul stench hit us. Bodies were scattered all over the lobby. Some in uniforms, some in plain clothes. They looked like they had been dead for a while. Careful. He was right to be cautious. These bodies could reanimate at any moment. We stayed close to the wall. We passed the duty room; the scene inside was even worse. A fierce struggle must have happened here. Tables were overturned, and computer screens were shattered. Blood was splattered across the walls. Don't look." We reached the second floor. The control room door was open. Except for a few overturned chairs, everything looked ready for work. The radar was spinning, and the screens were still lit. But there were no plane signals. The backup power is still running. Leo, check where the equipment keys are. They should be..." He searched and found them. A set of keys labeled "Ground Vehicles." Perfect. We returned to the first floor and found the basement stairs. It was pitch black. Our flashlight beams were weak in the darkness. Every step felt like walking into an abyss. The basement was huge, filled with pipes and machinery. The generator room was at the very end. I had a bad feeling. The light hit an Infected crouching in the corner. Hearing us, it slowly turned its head. It was a controller; his badge was still on. It stood up, swaying unsteadily. Then it suddenly charged! Leo reacted quickly and jabbed his crowbar forward. It hit the Infected right in the chest. I buried my axe in its head. It fell. "The generator is over there." It was a massive diesel generator unit. Do you remember the startup procedure? I remember. Leo began checking the oil level, opening the pump, and preheating. BOOM! The airport lights flickered on instantly. Success! But our joy lasted only seconds. Footsteps, thuds, and roars. The lights alerted all the Infected. We rushed out of the generator room. Three of the infected were blocking the stairs. No way back! This way!" Leo found another exit. He pushed open an emergency door. It was a ramp to the ground. But the exit was right next to the main runway. The roars behind us grew closer. We burst out onto the surface. The sun was blinding. On the runway... At least twenty infected were charging at us. Run to the plane! 500 meters never felt so far. Leo was running ahead. Suddenly, he tripped. An infected lunged from the side. It bit his arm. Ah!" He screamed, smashing it with his club. I rushed over and killed the infected with my axe. But there was no time to think. Keep running! They are getting closer. 50 meters. The plane was right there. Open the door!" The cargo door opened. Hunter and Graham were there to help. Leo, get up first! An infected pounced. The axe sweeps another away. Ruifei finally climbs the ramp. Hands slam against the door as it shuts. Safe. Leo sees his wound. I'm fine. Everyone stares at his arm. I-- Leo tries to speak. Bandage it first. Claire brings the medical kit. But we know it's just buying time. Is the generator started? Graham asks. I'll handle the remote fueling. The fueling system is online. Fueling. Est Time. The progress bar moves slowly. How long? 30 minutes. He leans back, sweating. You'll be fine. He smiles bitterly. I'm a pilot. His arm is already changing color. How much longer? And then what? He looks at me. When it's time, let me out. He is firm. I don't want to become one of those things. And I don't want to hurt you. The cabin goes silent. Someone is sobbing. Even Silas is quiet. Refueling has begun! The fuel gauge starts to rise. Leo's condition is worsening fast. The gray color has reached his shoulders. He has a fever. He is delirious. Claire wipes his sweat with a wet towel. The others keep their distance. Will he turn suddenly? It shouldn't be that fast. Fuel gauge: 2.8 tons. He can't hold on anymore. Leo's breathing quickens. His eyes are bloodshot. Everyone, get back! I shout, and everyone retreats in a panic. Leo struggles to stand. "I... I need to go out." Wait a little longer. " I hold him. His voice is hoarse and low. Suddenly, he shoves me away. His strength is incredible. Go away!" It doesn't sound like him anymore. His eyes have turned completely gray. The transformation is starting! Quick! Hank's friend rushes over to help me restrain him. Leo struggles wildly. His strength is increasing. Throw him out! No!" I roar back. "It's full of The Infected out there!" Then what? He's turning! Leo's skin has turned completely gray. His nails are growing long and black. Graham yells, "Put him in the cargo hold!" We work together to drag him toward the cargo hold. He fights back wildly, scratching Hunter's arm. Damn it! We finally push him into the cargo hold. The moment the door slams shut... Hunter, your wound! It's just a scratch. But no one can be sure. Can a scratch spread the infection? Quarantine him! What? He might be infected! It's just a scratch! Who knows? Silas looks at the others. "Are you willing to risk it?" The crowd starts to panic. A middle-aged woman becomes hysterical. Liars! Hank is dead! More people start shouting accusations. Some are crying, others are cursing. Some sit on the floor in total despair. Hunter stands in the center and rips open his shirt. Three bloody marks. Not deep, but terrifying. You're right. I might be infected. He says calmly, "I volunteer to be quarantined. Just give me a corner." Hunter, you don't have to do this," I say. "It's necessary," he interrupts. "For everyone's safety. He walks to a corner of the cabin and sits down. Two hours," he says. "If I'm fine after two hours... ...it means scratches don't cause infection. If something happens... Those words again. The banging in the cargo hold grows louder. Leo... no, that thing that was once Leo... is attacking the door. Will the door hold?" The cargo door is reinforced, Graham says, though he doesn't sound sure. A loud crash! Everyone gasps in fear. Hurry up! But the fueling speed is fixed. BANG! The dent in the door is getting worse. It's going to break! People start grabbing life jackets. Even though they are useless on land. Others search for weapons—cutlery, fire extinguishers, anything useful. Some even kneel and pray. Silas and his men huddle together. 3.4 tons!" Prepare for takeoff! I rush to the cockpit, but Leo isn't there. Who will be the co-pilot? I'll do it. You can fly a plane? I know the theory. There is no other choice. Silas rushes in. What about Hunter? I look back. Hunter is still sitting in the corner. It has been twenty minutes since he isolated himself. Are you crazy? Silas stares. He might be infected. It's not certain. You're gambling with everyone's lives! What do you want then? Why not? I stand up and stare at him: Because we're still human. He sneers. Humanity? At a time like this? This is exactly when it matters. Either shut up, or get out. Pick one. He turns purple with rage but finally leaves the cockpit. Start the engines. Left engine starting. A familiar roar. But the banging in the cargo hold gets more frantic. Everyone, sit tight! No one needs a second warning. Taxiing to the runway. The plane starts to move. Outside, the engine noise attracts the Infected. They chase us wildly, but they can't catch up. Ahead! The runway is swarming with the Infected. Twice as many as this morning. I say: Keep accelerating. The plane jolts. Constant impacts. A scene of mangled flesh. I tell Graham. He is pale, but he keeps operating the controls. 60 knots. The cargo door is breaking! It is severely deformed. It could burst at any moment. 100 knots. Warning lights are on. Graham, pull the yoke with me! The plane struggles to lift its nose. The cargo door bursts the moment we leave the ground. Falling from 50 meters high. The landing gear! It won't retract. Graham checks. The hydraulic system is damaged. Warning lights are flashing everywhere. Low hydraulic pressure. Fuel leak. But it is still flying, taking us away from this hell. Altitude 500 feet. The city reveals itself below. Fires everywhere. Black smoke rises to the sky. The dense black dots on the streets are all Infected. The entire city has fallen. Graham checks the navigation: Bearing 120. Distance: 115 nautical miles. Is there enough fuel? He calculates quickly: Just enough. But there is no reserve. No second chance. We must succeed on the first try. How is Hunter? She returns from checking with a troubled look. He is fine, Captain. She whispers: Silas and the others are discussing something. It doesn't look right. Marcus frowns. Altitude 3,000 feet. But the warning lights are still flashing. Can we make it to Emerald Islet? Theoretically, yes. Suddenly, the plane shakes violently. Shut down the left engine. Adjust the trim. Speed is dropping, fuel consumption is rising. Graham turns pale: Not enough fuel. How much are we short? 10 nautical miles. At sea, that is the distance between life and death. Reduce weight. Marcus rushes out of the cockpit. Everyone, listen up! Throw out all the luggage! Reduce weight! After a few seconds, everyone starts moving. Bags, backpacks, even extra clothes. Everything is thrown out through the breach in the cargo hold. Still not enough. Several men start removing the rear seats. One by one, the seats are thrown out. Still a bit short. Throw out the meal cart! The meal cart is very heavy. After it is gone, Graham finally nods. It is enough. Emerald Islet is getting closer. It looks so peaceful on the blue sea. Is it really safe there? Someone asks, but no one answers. Because no one knows the answer. Maybe it is another trap. But at least it is hope. Our altitude is dropping too fast. A single engine cannot maintain altitude. We are in a slow but steady descent. How much further? 60 nautical miles. At this descent rate... We will crash into the sea 20 miles before the island. We must restart the left engine. But it is malfunctioning. Try the restart procedure. The engine spatters and stops again. It is still not working. Still nothing. It is Hunter's voice. You are fine. The scratch has already scabbed over. Two hours have passed. I am still myself. It might be the fuel line. Graham says it was caused by the impact. Wait, " Hunter says suddenly. What if it is the fuel quality instead of the line?" What? The fuel we just loaded might have impurities? That makes sense. The airport has been paralyzed for days. The fuel quality from the Fuel Tanker cannot be guaranteed. Switching to the backup fuel tank. The 747 has multiple fuel tanks. Switching to Tank 2. The engine spatters and shakes. The left engine is back online. Great. Altitude stabilized at 1,800 feet. We have another problem. The landing gear won't deploy. We found the emergency manual pump. Hunter volunteers. I'll do it. It takes 700 pumps to lower the gear. This is going to be exhausting. I see the island! I see the island! Someone yells. Emerald Islet appears on the horizon. A small green dot. Emerald Control Tower. Requesting landing clearance. Could this place also be...? The cabin erupts in cheers. We receive your signal. Wind 090 at 5 knots. Roger. Preparing for approach. Running on a single engine. Hydraulics failed. Please prepare emergency equipment. 400 pumps in... we are too high. Graham says... You're right. Our glide angle is wrong. We need to circle around, but that consumes fuel. The fuel gauge is already at zero. No choice. Turning left. The plane is shaking. The damaged airframe is screaming. Fuel warning. How much is left? Less than 100kg. Completed the circle at 600 feet. Aligning with the runway. Clank. Only two green lights. Right main gear not locked. Landing on one wheel. 200 feet. 100 feet. 50 feet. Brace for impact! 30 feet. 20 feet. 10 feet. Left main gear touchdown. The plane tilts violently. Right wing scrapes the ground. Sparks flying. Brakes! Reverse thrust! Only the right engine has reverse thrust. The plane spins like a top. Everyone is screaming. Tires bursting. Metal grinding. It finally stopped. Silence. Then cheers, crying, and prayers. We survived. Evacuate in an orderly manner. Emergency slides deployed. Sliding down one by one. People in hazmat suits are waiting on the ground. Welcome to Emerald Islet. A voice comes from inside a hazmat suit. You are safe now. Safe? Is it true? I am the last to leave the plane. Looking back at this battered 747. Dents and bloodstains on the fuselage. A broken cargo door. Blown-out tires. It carried us out of hell. We are taken to a makeshift Quarantine Zone. Standard procedure. There are beds in the tents. There is food and water. It is simple, but to us, it is heaven. How many survivors are here? I ask. 3,000 locals. And over 2,000 evacuees. The person in charge is a middle-aged woman. Her name is Elena. What about other places? We have lost contact with most cities. How did you hold out? Luck. She says the island is remote. We blocked all access points immediately. What about supplies? We hope. We hope rescue arrives by then. Silas finds me that night. I want to apologize. I was too impulsive on the plane. He lowers his head. I almost got everyone killed. It is over now. Thank you. He reaches out his hand. The next day, the observation period ends. We are assigned to a temporary living area. An abandoned resort. It has now become a refugee camp. Conditions are basic. But a roof and a bed are better than the plane. Your wound has healed. He shows his arm. Only a faint scar remains, proving the scratches aren't infectious. He hesitated. Claire... Let him go. Life on the island is very orderly. Wake up at 6 AM. Tasks are assigned. Some do repairs. Everyone has something to do. Graham became the backbone of the technical team. The island's generators and water purifiers need maintenance. Silas has also changed a lot. He organized the supply distribution team and was surprisingly fair. Captain Marcus, I need your help with something." What is it? "We intercepted a distress signal." He turns on the radio. This is Cloud River. Survivors requesting help. At least 200 people are at the downtown Broadcasting Center. 200 people. But his expression is grim. The situation in Cloud River is terrible. How bad? At least 100,000 of The Infected. Marcus asked, "Then why tell me?" Because..." she hesitated. "What? If it were your family... I'm going. It's too dangerous. They're my family. I understand, but... Then I'm going too." Hunter and I are coming with you. Claire, count me in." More people stepped forward, even Silas. You're all crazy. " Elena couldn't believe it. She looked at everyone. Thank you, but I can't allow this. Elena looked at us. I'll give you a helicopter. Just one. The only one on the island. An Mi-171. It holds 20 people. One chance. When? Tomorrow morning. That night, I studied the map. The Broadcasting Center is in the city center. It's surrounded by skyscrapers. The helicopter can land on the roof. But from the roof to the interior... How many of the Infected are in between? No one knows. In the end, 15 people volunteered. The helicopter will hover over the roof. It will only land once it's safe. If it's not safe... immediate evacuation. No one disagreed. Even Graham knew the risks. Takeoff is at 4:00 AM. It's still dark. The helicopter roars. Echoing loudly over the silent sea. Flight time: 45 minutes. Fires are everywhere. Someone points to the ground. A massive, dark crowd. A swarm of the Infected, moving slowly. Tens of thousands, like a colony of ants. No one can look away. This is the end of the world. Cloud River comes into view. The bustling city is now a ruin. The Broadcasting Center is still standing. The signal light on the 30th floor is still flashing. People are alive. Prepare to land. The roof is empty. It's too easy. Scout team, move out. Hunter, take the lead. The three of them disappear into the stairwell. 5 minutes pass. 10 minutes. The radio crackles. Clear. Survivors are on the 25th floor. How many? 237 people. More than we expected. Can they get up here? How long to clear the path? 20 minutes. The helicopter hovers. 15 minutes later. The first group appears. The elderly and children. Women. Then I saw my wife and daughter. They were thin and haggard, but alive. Daddy!" My daughter ran into my arms. My wife was crying. I was crying too. Get on!" People board in groups. 50 people. 100 people... 150 people. Overloaded. We can't take any more. But over 30 people are still left. "You go first," Hunter said. "We'll stay. Come back for us next time. Hunter, hurry! The Infected are coming up. Roars echo from the stairwell. They've found us. Take off! The helicopter begins to rise. I look down at the rooftop. Hunter and the others build a defense with furniture. Blocking the stairs with anything they can find. The Infected burst out. Hunter grabs an iron rod. Claire is by his side. And the others. They are fighting. To buy us time. The helicopter flies higher and higher. The figures on the roof grow smaller. One last look. Hunter is still standing. On the way back to Emerald Islet. The cabin is packed with people. 237 survivors. Crammed into a space meant for 20 people. Some are standing. The air is thin. Someone starts to vomit. The pilot is drenched in sweat. 20 minutes in, the engine protests. It is running on severe overload. Hold on, I tell the aircraft.