Hunter's Game 2: Zombie Paradise - Chapter 8

I thought my eyes had deceived me. When I tried to look more closely, the person was gone.

Had I imagined it?

No. No!

Absolutely not.

The hand that pressed the red button had smooth, pale skin and long, slender fingers.

It was a woman’s hand.

A remarkably beautiful hand, in fact.

But every player in our group was a full-grown man.

Not one of the ten was female.

While my thoughts ran wild, Chen Lang was already calmly directing everyone to ready their weapons.

After his excellent performance earlier, the players trusted his leadership and combat ability. Command naturally fell to him.

Yet when the zombies poured out of the container, they did not rush our mine cart as we had expected.

Instead, they acted as though they had given up on life.

They tottered around, sometimes stopping to stare vacantly at the sky at a forty-five-degree angle.

They looked like tortured heroes from overwrought coming-of-age fiction.

The players were baffled.

What was happening?

Were even NPCs embracing quiet quitting these days?

Chen Lang had clearly noticed the same thing.

He lowered his voice. “Nobody move yet. Let’s see what happens.”

The others sensed the anomaly too. One by one, they huddled inside the cart and silently watched.

After a while, the zombies’ movements grew slower still. Some even began dozing off.

We traded bewildered looks, but inwardly, everyone relaxed.

“What’s going on? Did they send us the old, weak, sick, and disabled batch?” Qin Wu scratched the back of his head.

Chen Lang turned to me. “Senior, you said green was a trap. Did you discover something?”

I had shouted loudly enough for everyone to hear.

“Yeah. I remember all of us wanted green, but you were the only one who said something was wrong and told us to wait.”

“Did you figure something out? Tell us.”

Faced with their anxious stares, I drew the old newspaper from my pocket.

I spread it open, pointed to the conspicuous report, and laid out the chain of reasoning I had organized in my mind.

“Remember that factory? Old newspapers were scattered across the floor when we entered. I happened to pick one up.”

“The report mainly says two things. First, forty-four workers were in the plant, but we killed only forty-three workers who had turned. One female worker escaped.”

Han Zhong’s eyebrows shifted. “Was that the female zombie we saw just now?”

I nodded. “That should be her. Unfortunately, she turned too.”

“Second, the chemical leak disrupted the local climate and caused unusually heavy fog.”

At the mention of fog, understanding dawned on every face.

“No wonder there’s been fog all along the route.”

I continued. “But haven’t you noticed? Sometimes the fog clears while we travel. Then later, it gathers again.”

“Isn’t that normal weather? Doesn’t the same thing happen in the real world?”

I shook my head. “This isn’t the real world. This is a game world, and the fog is controlled by the system.”

“Or, to be more precise”—my expression hardened, and I emphasized every word—“the fog here is controlled by us players.”

“What?!”

Everyone cried out, utterly lost.

“Senior, we didn’t eat some nature-type magic fruit. How are we controlling fog?”

Chen Lang shook his head in disbelief.

I chuckled and pointed at the signal lamp beside him.

“We control it through that.”

Now they looked even more confused.

“The game rules require us to switch the signal color every two hours.”

“Think back. Didn’t the fog change each time we switched colors?”

They frowned in thought, then began nodding.

“I think he’s right! It was hazy when we first entered, but after we pressed green, most of the fog cleared.”

“Right. Then we pressed yellow, and the fog came back! I remember clearly. The air turned cold and damp, and we were all huddled in the cart.”

“Yes, yes! I remember too.”

I went on. “So none of this is coincidence. It is part of the game’s design. Red, yellow, and green are not traffic signals. They control the density of the fog.”

“Red releases dense fog. Yellow releases a lighter mist. Green not only stops the fog but probably activates machines that draw it away.”

That was the hidden meaning of the strange passage in the *Map of Apocalypse Island*.

But I did not mention the passage to the other players.

“What does the fog’s density have to do with the game?” someone asked.

“Everything. The fog is the game’s most secret and most important mechanic.”

They stared at me, still not quite following.

“Because this fog controls the zombies’ movements.”

I gave them the answer.

Every eye widened in shock.

“Remember what that female zombie said?”

They nodded.

“Her words were the pass-word-for-this-stage.” I hammered out each syllable.

They stared at me in disbelief.

“Red means stop, green means go, yellow means wait a little. Even a three-year-old knows that…”

“The password? By that logic, when we press red, we should stop, and when we press green, we keep moving?”

I shook my head and swept my gaze across the group.

“What if she wasn’t saying it to us?”

“Who else could she be talking to…?” Chen Lang began. Then he stopped. He had thought of something, and his expression changed sharply.

I smiled. “You’ve already guessed it. She was saying it to the zombies.”