The evacuation process was far more chaotic than anyone had anticipated, due to the lack of enough personnel to maintain order.
Many local militia members had already left after the massive anomaly last night once the fog cleared this morning. They had originally planned to wait a bit longer, but with the large evacuation underway, they couldn’t stay. So, they split into several small teams based on different directions, intending to find their families and evacuate together.
Those who remained were either lucky enough to have their families still in the district and had already arranged everything for evacuation, or they were unmarried workers in West City whose families lived elsewhere.
The vehicle waiting near the hotel to pick people up was a truck—not a military one, but an ordinary cargo truck.
The truck was parked over a hundred meters from the hotel’s intersection. When the civilians inside the hotel received the militia’s signal to quickly head outside, they noticed others also leaving their previously hidden shelters nearby. These buildings, like the hotel, had largely survived last night’s disaster.
Some people had empty hands, but most carried backpacks. Some wore expressions of panic and confusion, unsure which vehicle to go to, blindly following the crowd.
Others had spotted the evacuation vehicles early and rushed through the crowd to secure a spot, occasionally bumping into others. Those with greater strength sometimes knocked people down outright, drawing complaints and curses.
The good-natured quietly got up and kept moving, while those with less patience stormed a few steps forward to grab the person who knocked them down, angrily shouting.
The once silent street quickly descended into chaos and noise, but the militia members couldn’t afford to be distracted by this. Some guarded the perimeter vigilantly, ready to eliminate any monsters that appeared, while others set down ladders beside the truck to help civilians climb into the high cargo bed.
The truck was large and couldn’t enter the hotel’s street because of damaged cars parked on both sides and numerous fallen electric scooters.
The truck lacked a fully enclosed compartment; its cargo bed was fitted with a loosely spaced metal cage extending from both sides up to the top, covering the entire bed. There had probably once been a tarp, as shredded plastic sheeting still clung to the cage. The truck emitted a distinct smell typical of livestock transport; anyone approaching immediately knew what it had been used for before.
Some people looked uneasy because they had seen others evacuating in minibuses and large buses. They weren’t merely disgusted by the smell inside the truck bed or the lack of seats—they felt insecure traveling through the city without the metal walls and glass of a bus.
Once such thoughts and concerns took root, they affected actions. Even with militia help, many did not board the truck quickly.
When Tang Siqing, Zhang Yu, and Zhang Xin pushed through the crowd to reach the truck, only about one-third of the cargo bed was filled. Having seen the situation in West City’s outskirts, they understood how rare and difficult such evacuation vehicles were at a time like this, so they hesitated not at all. With the militia’s assistance, they swiftly boarded and found open spots to stand.
Suddenly, shouting erupted from somewhere nearby, first sparse, then denser, pounding at people’s hearts.
Those who had doubts or hesitations immediately panicked and began scrambling to climb onto the truck bed. The noise intensified. Both those yet to board and those already inside were afraid, all pushing desperately toward the center of the bed, leaving the areas near the cage empty.
Tang Siqing and the two Zhangs carried their backpacks in front of them. Being squeezed, the packs pressed against their chests, making it hard to breathe. Eventually, they were pushed out of the crowd, standing near the cage.
The space there was bigger, and they could lean on the cage. Relative to a bus, it was safer. The truck bed was quite high, so even if a monster suddenly appeared beside the road, it couldn’t climb inside—at most, it could extend its red tongue through the iron bars to attack.
Their backpacks contained some flame throwers and alcohol spray, giving them a certain degree of self-defense.
Soon, three militia members wearing stab-proof vests and blast helmets boarded last and stationed themselves at the two sides and rear of the truck bed, greatly reducing safety concerns.
These three carried rifles—one blast rifle and three pistols. The pistols were Type 9.2 semi-automatic, the most common police sidearm with magazines holding 15 to 20 rounds. If they carried spare magazines, they should be well-equipped for the journey.
***
The truck started moving quickly along the road toward the east side of the city. Most on board had hidden inside buildings for days and had no idea what the outside was like. Now, as the truck rolled forward, the state of West City came clearly into view.
Damaged vehicles with crushed fronts were scattered along the road. Bloody arms hung limply from shattered windows, though it was unclear whether these deaths were recent or from days ago.
Besides human corpses, monster bodies killed by the militia lay dumped by the roadside, uncollected.
Storefronts lining the streets with glass doors and windows were mostly smashed. Small supermarkets and eateries were particularly ruined—through broken windows, toppled shelves and spilled food and water could be seen. The mess suggested not only monsters but also human raids had ravaged these places.
Crowds clustered chaotically on the streets, pushing to board waiting vehicles—buses and trucks alike.
Some private cars were struggling to drive out of the disorderly neighborhoods, likely abandoned before but now trying to reach the east side after hearing of the evacuation.
Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, but most relied on vehicles arranged by the militia. The overcrowded crowds occasionally jostled, causing some to fall and be trampled, resulting in screams and cries.
Loud commotion risked attracting leftover monsters still hiding in nearby buildings.
When hideous monsters with red tongues suddenly charged out, the crowd’s chaos multiplied.
For thousands of years, humans had considered themselves atop the food chain, powerful and dominant. But such strength required many conditions and circumstances. People could calmly observe beasts caged behind bars—but if even one escaped, it could scatter a group of humans in panic.
Now, it wasn’t just one beast loose—it was as if everyone had been thrown into a place full of beasts.
These monsters looked vaguely human, amplifying the terror they inspired. Many people, even armed with iron rods or sharp kitchen knives, had no idea how to fight.
Only a few possessed true courage and combat ability. At such a critical moment, those who charged against the fleeing crowd to be heroes were extremely rare.
Most chose to protect their families and retreat if possible, only attacking when forced into a corner.
By the time one red-tongued monster fell, many were seriously injured and wailing. One person pinned the monster’s neck with a blast fork but was stabbed through the left shoulder by the red tongue.
He collapsed, screaming in pain. A few lightly wounded dragged him away from the fallen monster. Once the militia confirmed it was dead, they put away their rifles and hurried back to help carry the injured man onto the truck.
But chaos had intensified near the vehicle. Those still not on board pressed frantically toward the bus’s doors.
That bus couldn’t hold everyone; people inside cried out from being crushed, while those outside shouted and even attacked the militia trying to stop them.
The driver, realizing the danger, started the bus and drove off. Some people chased after it, crying and grabbing onto the vehicle, trying to climb onto the roof.
As Tang Siqing’s truck slowly passed by, it drew some attention. The truck was easier to climb onto than the bus. Two men nearby sprinted, grabbing the tail of the truck. One held a child; another waved frantically for a woman running behind to hurry.
A militia member standing at the back of the truck, seeing the terrified crying child, couldn’t bear it. Frowning, he pulled the group up.
The truck bed was already full, but the addition of three adults and one child left no standing room.
This drew several gasps and more people turned to rush toward the truck. Their faces were anxious, voices loud and angry. Seeing the truck didn’t stop, they shouted warnings and even swung sticks, smashing the vehicle.
A militia member standing at the front side of the truck bed sensed the danger, slapped the truck body near the driver’s cabin, and shouted loudly.
The truck accelerated, no longer avoiding anything, crushing corpses and debris on the road as it jolted rapidly eastward.
Those who couldn’t catch up looked back, then turned to other private vehicles…
Inside the truck, everyone fell silent as the crowd behind grew smaller. Not long ago, they had complained about this vehicle; now they realized compared to others, they were lucky.
But soon they realized that the chaos they had just witnessed was from one of the safer parts of West City.
***
The truck quickly left the militia’s cleared and isolated safe zone.
Outside the temporary safe area, the districts they passed through were mostly dead silent. Many roads, buildings, and vehicles showed signs of mutation. Besides the scattered corpses and wreckage, there was not a single living human in sight—only more shadows of red-tongued monsters wandering and swaying.
Passing through a dense block of buildings, they saw a minibus crashed against a glass office wall. Most of the bus’s windows were shattered, surrounded by blood and bodies. Many corpses were cracked open, limbs broken. Two tires on one side were flat, and the bus was on fire, smoke billowing from the front.
This was clearly a recent accident—the area was dangerous.
The passengers grew tense. The driver increased speed. The militia lowered their voices, urging everyone to crouch or curl up quietly to avoid making noise.
Still, many red-tongued monsters noticed the truck and appeared from every corner, chasing after it.
Bang—
A Molotov cocktail was thrown out from the passenger window, striking two monsters ahead by the roadside. Flames flared and exploded, creating two fireballs, but the monsters continued charging toward the truck’s front tires. The driver swerved sharply, narrowly avoiding the blaze.
The truck kept moving, the monsters never giving up, howling as if signaling others.
Soon, more red-tongued monsters burst from damaged buildings. Some leapt out of upper-floor windows, crashing to the ground with heavy thuds. They weren’t dead; after a moment, they got up and charged the truck again.
Several people inside the truck suddenly felt shadows overhead. Panicked, they looked up to see a monster leaping from a building window, falling straight toward their heads.
Under the gloomy sky, the monster’s massive open maw and blood-red tongue were striking and terrifying—like a hellish demon descending from above.