Hunter's Game 2: Zombie Paradise - Chapter 2

While I was still puzzling over it, Chen Lang interrupted me and told me to come to lunch.

We went to the revolving restaurant on the twenty-second floor of the hotel and found seats by the window.

After ordering, we admired the unusual scenery of Apocalypse Island outside.

Beyond a ten-meter-high electric fence lay lush tropical jungle. Tens of thousands of zombies wandered aimlessly through it. A few touched the fence out of curiosity; white smoke immediately rose from their bodies amid flickers of blue electricity. Within seconds, they fell to the ground twitching.

“They’re not dead. In a few hours, they’ll get back up and keep wandering. Unless you destroy the brain, they never really die.” Chen Lang opened a bottle of red wine, poured me a glass, then filled his own.

“That electric fence separates the laboratory, hotel, and airport from everything outside. Looks safe enough. But if the power ever goes out—heh. This island will get lively.”

I sounded flippant, but the possibility genuinely worried me.

“After the lab cultivated these zombies, they implanted a chip in each one’s brain. The zombies move according to commands. If there’s an emergency, the system can shut all of them down at once.”

As if he had read my concern, Chen Lang explained it with a smile.

Apparently, while I had been studying the map, the brat had not been idle either.

After lunch, we returned to our hotel rooms to rest.

The next day, Chen Lang, the other eight players, and I assembled.

The organizers had prepared matching combat gear for us: camouflage uniforms, combat boots, a watch capable of receiving messages, and an earpiece.

Our weapons had also been issued.

I secured the pistol and magazine in the holster at my waist and put the grenade in the small bag I carried.

I held the ice axe in my hand.

Chen Lang had his duckbill hammer in hand, with the combat knife and sniper rifle strapped across his back.

The other players had chosen similar combinations of cold weapons and machine guns.

Apparently, none of us had watched *Resident Evil* for nothing.

Once everyone was ready, we headed together to the first stage.

The Zombie Pen was a gigantic ring-shaped building, a little like Beijing’s Bird’s Nest stadium, except nearly twice as large.

And unlike the stadium, this structure was completely enclosed.

The moment we entered, we found dozens of cameras trained on us. More than a hundred media streamers were already waiting.

Camera flashes crackled. The streamers surged forward, thrusting handheld cameras at our faces and launching their broadcasts.

“Babies, what you’re looking at right now are the players in Zombie Apocalypse Island!”

“Oh my God! Babies, look! Those are real guns on their backs!”

“Easy, babies! Like, comment, and subscribe first—send me a jet, and I’ll take you to see the zombies in a minute!”

“Let me see who in the chat still hasn’t hit Like! If you don’t, a zombie will come knocking tonight to collect!”

The swarm of streamers left us utterly frazzled. Fortunately, the staff arrived in time and hurried us away.

After five minutes of walking through the massive building, we finally reached the gate to the Pen.

“Players, please take note. During the game, the organizers will issue clues, missions, and other game information through your earpieces. Listen carefully so you do not miss anything important.”

“Safe rooms have been installed within the Pen. They will open twice, for four hours each time. The safe rooms are completely secure and contain food, drinking water, and beds.”

“Please check the time. It is now 5:55 p.m. The game begins promptly at six. The safe room will open for the first time at midnight and close at four in the morning. It will open again at ten tomorrow morning and close at two in the afternoon.”

“Finally, good luck.”

After the staff member finished, he operated the system and opened the gate, a special steel slab ten centimeters thick.

As it swung open, a palpable pressure rushed over us and seized every nerve.

At the thought of spending twenty-four hours with zombies in this sealed space, none of us could stop a chill from running through our bodies.

All ten of us filed into the Pen. The gate slammed shut behind us.