novelTele Chapter 18 The walls have ears
Chapter 18 The walls have ears
It's 6:10. The sky is pale blue, and the dew hasn't dried yet.
Zhang Xun stood inside the iron gate of the back alley, his left hand gripping the handle, his right hand lightly bracing against the door. His face was pale, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead—the wound on his palm had reopened, blood soaking through the bandage; he'd cut himself while looking for medicine yesterday. Three infected people had wandered past the alley entrance when the welder left, and he hadn't dared to go out. Later, Su Nian's knees swelled and shone; she was busy with IV drips and fever reduction until dark. She collapsed and fainted, too weak to get up and see what had been left outside.
I woke up at 3 a.m. and didn't dare close my eyes again. I stayed up until this morning.
He pressed his head against the door, listening to the sounds outside. The soles of his shoes scraped against the asphalt, feeling like sandpaper grinding against his bones through the metal. Only when the sound moved to the next street did he exert force with his right hand.
The hinges creaked, and the door gap widened to about half a shoulder's width, letting in a cold draft carrying a putrid smell. Zhang Xun didn't lean out; instead, he first extended his right arm through the gap, spreading his fingers to make a half-circle motion, confirming that no one was in the blind spot, before turning sideways to press himself against the door frame and leaning his upper body out.
His fingertips touched the steel plate above the door hinge; it was icy cold to the touch. The weld was angled at fifteen degrees, the edges blackened, and the surface glistened with dew, like a thin layer of sweat. Zhang Xun ran his fingertip across the weld, feeling its depth—a solid weld, not a weak one, professional work. But these days, who would reinforce doors and windows for a stranger?
His gaze followed down to the base of the wall by the threshold, where a chalk arrow, blurred by dew, was steadily pointing towards the door hinge.
He withdrew his hand, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the ground outside the threshold: two things were neatly arranged. He hadn't seen them clearly yesterday because it was dark, but this morning he finally saw them clearly: a deformed piece of plastic and a thin, long metal strip.
Without hesitation, Zhang Xun gently pressed down behind him, signaling the people inside to stay put. He then crouched down and slid over the threshold, his back against the wall, his left eye fixed on the alley entrance, while his right hand swiftly scooped two items from the ground into his palm.
He didn't linger for even half a second, and immediately turned around and retreated.
Bai Mo had already been holding the door open from inside. As soon as Zhang Xun stepped over the threshold, she released her grip, and the iron door closed gently under its own weight.
Click.
The morning light was shut out, leaving only a thin line through the crack in the threshold, which flickered and then went out.
The candlelight inside was dim. Zhang Xun opened his palm and placed the two items on a piece of cloth at his feet.
Lin Xiaotang picked up the piece of plastic; its edges were rough, and it had a mesh pattern in the center. She whispered, "This is... a keyboard cap?"
Qin Wei picked up the metal bar and slowly rubbed it between her fingers. One end was polished to a shine, while the other end was covered with a layer of hardened ash, like burnt medicine shells. "It's not an iron rod," she paused, "it's a welding rod. Used many times."
"It's not a tool," Zhang Xun said, his voice hoarse, taking the welding rod from his hand. "It's something he carries with him. This guy uses it like a rosary."
He lowered his voice considerably: "The welding on the outside is for reinforcement, not destruction. There's an arrow pointing to the door hinge, which means—it's sealed."
Bai Mo leaned against the shadows inside the door, her eyes still fixed on the crack in the door panel, as if trying to see through the alley. Suddenly, she reached out and took the welding rod from Zhang Xun's palm, rubbing her fingertips over the rounded tip, then turning it over to examine the scratches on the metal core.
"The welding rods are old," she whispered, "used for a long time. The arrows are new, drawn this morning. Two things, two times."
Just then, Qin Wei suddenly raised her hand and put her index finger to her lips.
Everyone immediately froze.
The sound of dragging footsteps echoed from the alleyway entrance, soles crunching over shards of glass. One step, a stop, two steps, closer still.
Zhang Xun slowly turned his head, his gaze fixed on the door panel.
The footsteps stopped at the alley entrance, followed by a hissing sound, like a broken bellows sucking air from this side. Zhang Xun tensed up: the dew was heavy this morning, and the wind was blowing into the alley; the smell of medicine on them probably wouldn't be able to be masked.
Five seconds. Ten seconds.
The footsteps finally started again, dragging away in another direction until they were gradually dispersed by the wind.
The room was quiet, with only the candlelight flickering gently.
---
At nine o'clock in the morning, the morning light slanted into the corner of the shop's first floor, falling on the thin layer of dust that had accumulated on the floor.
Lin Xiaotang knelt before Bai Mo, the first-aid kit lying open beside her. She pinched the edge of the bandage with her fingers; the scabs were stuck together, and it made a slight peeling sound when she tore it open. Bai Mo's calf muscles tensed, and his toes unconsciously tapped twice on the ground.
The iodine bottle tilted. A dark yellow liquid dripped down, spreading on the cotton ball held by the tweezers. Lin Xiaotang's hands trembled; the tweezers tip hovered above the wound, but she didn't dare press down.
"Your hand is heavier than Dr. Qin's," Bai Mo said, his voice steady.
"Speak up if it hurts, don't hold it in." Lin Xiaotang's voice was tense, and she gripped the cotton ball even tighter with the tweezers.
Bai Mo didn't reply. Her gaze suddenly moved past Lin Xiaotang's shoulder and landed on the bottom of the window frame—through the gap in the curtains, a very thin glint of light flashed, a cold, metallic light. The light descended at a visible speed, as if pulled by the weight of something in the darkness, shrinking inch by inch back under the window gap, disappearing completely three seconds later, leaving only a fresh scratch on the dusty wood grain, as thin as a hair.
Bai Mo's breath hitched for a moment. Her body leaned forward almost imperceptibly, her right hand instinctively reaching for her camera bag, her fingertips touching the hard shell before she abruptly stopped. She didn't lunge forward, didn't turn to look out the window, and didn't even blink.
"Does saying it will stop hurting?" she asked, her voice a notch lower than before, her gaze still fixed on Lin Xiaotang's face, as if nothing had happened.
Lin Xiaotang didn't notice. She stared at the dark yellow iodine spreading on the floor tiles, the tips of her tweezers hovering in mid-air: "...If I don't say anything, it hurts even more."
The bandage was wrapped around and around, then loosened, so it was unwrapped and rewrapped. Lin Xiaotang stared at the knot in the bandage, not looking up: "Will you stay here forever?"
Bai Mo slowly withdrew her right hand from the camera bag, her fingertips tracing the surface as if confirming something. She looked up, her gaze falling on the wall behind Lin Xiaotang, as if there was something worth seeing there.
"When I can outrun you," she said, her tone light as if she were joking, but her left hand was already quietly pressed on her injured calf, her knuckles white.
Lin Xiaotang tied the knot and hummed in agreement.
Bai Mo withdrew her feet, her dark gray trench coat covering the bandage. She didn't get up immediately, but instead reached out and dusted off the dust below the window frame, her movements natural, her fingertips brushing a centimeter above the new mark.
A sparrow pecked at the glass outside the window and then flew away.
The fine mark lay quietly in the dusty wood grain, like a freshly cut wound, as thin as a hair, carrying the coldness of metal.
---
It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The roller shutter door was tightly closed. The first floor was dimly lit, with a thin, sharp sliver of light seeping in from under the door, like a blade across the ground.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A rhythmic, light knocking came from under the roller shutter. There was a two-second pause. Then, another knock, another knock, another knock.
It wasn't an impact, nor a scratch. It was knuckles tapping on metal, like counting beats.
Zhang Xun's back muscles tensed instantly. The infected person wouldn't pause for two seconds before striking three more times. This is a human being.
He crouched down, his knees digging into cracks in the concrete floor, gravel embedding itself in his patella.
The thumping sound reminded him of the dull thud of metal hitting bone. It was also like the beat of a heartbeat striking his eardrums.
My right hand started to tremble, my palm was sweating, and my knuckles were white as I pressed them against the ground.
He forced himself not to back down, pressing his forehead against his knees, breathing heavily.
Bai Mo braced himself on one leg to reach the second-floor platform, gripping the railing tightly with his hand, and leaning his body outwards.
The street in front was deserted, and the sunlight was blinding. A thin steel wire was rapidly retracting from under the door, screeching against the concrete, retreating towards the street corner and finally disappearing into the shadows.
Zhang Xun peered through the crack in the door. The steel wire was extremely thin; only a scratch mark remained on the ground, and the rustling sound hadn't stopped yet.
He stared at the steel wire until the end disappeared. His heartbeat slowed, his palms were still damp, and his fingers stopped trembling. It wasn't an attack, but a probe—someone was testing the waters on this side.
He loosened his fist, revealing bluish-white marks on his knuckles from pressing against the ground.
Only a sliver of light remained at the bottom of the roller shutter. Fine scratches were left on the cement floor, stretching from the door crack to the street corner, like an ellipsis drawn on the floor with a pencil.
Zhang Xun remained squatting, his knees numb. The cold sweat on his palms had dried, leaving sticky salt stains.
Upstairs, Su Nian's breathing was steady; she hadn't been awakened. Bai Mo stepped back from the platform, his single-legged shadow flickering against the wall.
It was as if no one had ever existed.
--------------------
At 5:40 p.m., dusk began to fall.
Zhang Xun knelt on one knee beside the platform railing, his right palm pressed against the concrete. Low-frequency vibrations crept up from the ground, countless shoe soles rubbing in unison, like a giant engine idling in the distance. He clenched his fingers, his knuckles digging into the cracks in the concrete.
Binoculars pressed against the eye. In the direction of the government building, a dark mass of corpses, silent and moving purposefully towards the street. No roars, only the rustling of shoes blending into a tide, washing over the rising twilight. A patch of the grey-blue sky was missing, filled by blackness.
"How far?" Qin Wei asked, tilting her head back on the sofa. Her voice was low.
"Five or six blocks away. Not fast, but not stopping. No shouting, just walking."
Qin Wei tapped the lid of the first-aid kit three times, then five times: "At this pace. Tomorrow evening. Downstairs."
Inside the house, Su Nian's breathy voice drifted over: "It's not migration. It's driving them away. Someone's driving them from behind. The vibrations are too rhythmic. Naturally, the horde of corpses won't move like this."
Three seconds of silence.
Zhang Xun turned his head. Bai Mo leaned against the door frame, her left foot barely touching the ground, her weight on her right leg, her hands gripping the window frame tightly to keep her steady. She wasn't looking at the horde of corpses; she was looking at the street corner below.
"This morning," Bai Mo suddenly said, "there was light coming through the crack in the window. The end of the thin thread retracted. Someone was spying."
She paused, then continued, "In the afternoon. A wire knocked on the door. It reached in from under the door, then retreated back into the street corner. It wasn't an attack. It was a probe."
Zhang Xun reached into his pocket with his right hand, his fingertips brushing against the rounded welding rod; the metal was cold. "That guy reinforced the back door for us last night. His welding skills are impressive."
Qin Wei stopped tapping on the box lid: "So. There's someone outside the door, one or several. He peeked in first, then knocked, then welded the door shut. Now a group of infected people have come to the door."
"The zombie horde route," Zhang Xun straightened up, walked to the railing, and traced the fine lines on the window frame with his fingers, "is right across from our street. The building below is the only way through."
Lin Xiaotang clutched her rabbit doll, her voice strained: "Was that person... warning us? Welding the door, knocking, the horde of zombies is coming..."
No one answered. Only a rustling sound came from afar, like the tide washing over the corner of the first block, creeping up along the ground.
"Spying in the morning, knocking on the door in the afternoon, welding the door last night," Bai Mo stared at the spot where the light had flashed in the morning, his voice a shade lower than before, "It wasn't out of kindness, nor was it a marking. It was a test. To see if we would run away. To see what we had."
The mattress creaked as Su Nian turned over: "We can't escape. I'm bedridden. Bai Mo has a leg injury. Two people can't outrun a horde of zombies."
Zhang Xun placed the binoculars on the railing, the lenses reflecting the last ray of daylight: "Then we can only wait. Or, wait for that welder to reappear."
He looked out the window at the dark silhouettes, then slowly turned to the ground floor, his gaze lingering between the two, his knuckles turning white.
As dusk settled, the air in the shop grew heavy, like a piece of iron caught in a pair of pliers, slowly heating up.
Outside the door, the steel wire marks were still visible on the cement floor, extending from the door crack to the street corner.
---
The candle burned out, the smoke dissipated, and only a wick remained on the countertop, its warmth slowly fading in the darkness. The dragging footsteps of the horde of corpses could be faintly heard outside the window, like the waves crashing against the shore, their crests rising and falling.
The two sat side by side by the counter, a fist's distance between their shoulders, talking in hushed tones, their voices mingling with the rustling sounds from outside the window.
Bai Mo turned to the side, leaning forward, her left leg outstretched, her trench coat covering the bandage. She pushed up her glasses, the tape wiping her brow bone. Her hands trembled; as she reached into the inside pocket of her trench coat, her knuckles tapped against the edge of an aluminum box, making a very faint sound.
"That hard drive in B-17," she began, her voice hoarse, "is still underground. You remember."
The footsteps outside the window suddenly grew louder, like waves crashing closer, causing the ground to tremble low. Bai Mo's fingers hovered in mid-air, Zhang Xun held his breath as low as possible, his knuckles pressed against the wooden edge of the counter. Three seconds later, the sound faded away before Bai Mo continued.
She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her inner pocket, clenched it between her fingers, and the wine stains blurred the pencil lines. The paper trembled in her hand, like a withered leaf blown by the wind.
"This is all I have," she said. "It was drawn by the contractor when he was drunk, on the second basement floor of the archives. Pencil lines, wine stains, no dimensions, no diameter of the ventilation duct. He had the original drawing, but I missed it when I copied it."
She pushed the sketch across the counter. Zhang Xun took it, wiping the wine stains with his fingertips; they were sticky, like undried blood.
"That medical checkup item," Bai Mo paused, as if retrieving words from a jumbled memory, "the nurse said it was for people aged fifteen to twenty-five, and that they had to sign a confidentiality agreement. But I didn't take any photos or record any audio. Verbal confirmation isn't enough. It might not have even happened, or I might have just remembered it wrong."
She stopped again, pressing her right hand against her left wrist, trying to stop the shaking, but it didn't stop.
"There's also an informant who sent emails. Global nodes, April 1st, unusual data movement. I only have three screenshots. No timestamps, no IP addresses, can't piece them together."
She looked up at Zhang Xun, her eyes bloodshot behind her glasses: "My mind is full of fragments. Full of question marks. The hard drive contains my original materials from a year ago—maybe financial statements, maybe scanned documents, maybe things I've never seen before. But I haven't finished organizing them, I haven't opened them. I didn't go back before the apocalypse either."
The roar of the zombie horde drew closer, and the ground trembled slightly. The two held their breath, waiting for the sound to sweep past the door and fade into the distance before Bai Mo spoke again.
“Both sides are looking for me,” she said in a lower voice. “I don’t know who they are. All I know is that they’re building labs and evacuation routes. Don’t expect any building to block what they’ve designed.”
Zhang Xun folded the sketch in half, then in half again, stuffed it into his pocket, and pressed it against his heart. Without looking at Bai Mo, he lowered his voice even further: "Go first, retrieve the hard drive later. The evidence is only useful if you're alive."
The candle wick had gone completely cold. Bai Mo placed the empty water glass back on the counter, the plastic bottom making a very soft tap. The footsteps of the zombie horde outside the window drew closer again. Zhang Xun listened intently, and Bai Mo remained silent.
He could feel the sketch in his breast pocket, pressed against his heartbeat, its creases digging into his ribs. There was no today, no tomorrow. Only a jumble of pencil lines and wine stains, and a question mark she couldn't piece together.
---
It was late at night. The first floor was completely dark. The roller shutter was tightly shut.
Zhang Xun squatted, leaning against the shelf. His right knee pressed against the concrete floor, a dull, sharp pain throbbing within him. His left hand hung limply at his knee. In the distance, the footsteps of the zombie horde dragged, sometimes near, sometimes far, like the tides lingering on the outskirts of the block.
He should have been asleep. His eyes were fixed on the deeper darkness beneath the crack in the door, staring for a long time until his eyelids grew heavy.
Suddenly, the knuckles of his right hand lifted up.
It wasn't his intention. His fingers curled up on their own, knuckles pressed against the door, and he knocked—
Thump. Thump.
Two soft sounds.
Zhang Xun paused for a moment. He looked down at his hand. His knuckles were still suspended in mid-air, in the position after striking, as if that hand didn't belong to him.
Thirty seconds. No response. The distant roar of the horde of corpses still lingered, overlapping with his breathing.
Then, the steel wire slowly probed into the bottom of the door crack. Extremely thin, it gleamed with a cold, faint light in the darkness. The end lightly touched the inside of the door panel.
Ding.
A crisp sound. Like a stamp. Like a signature.
Zhang Xun stared at the steel wire. His lips moved. The words didn't come from his mind; they slipped directly from his throat, the breathy sound brushing against his teeth:
"……receive."
Only after he finished speaking did he realize what he was saying. His brow furrowed slightly, as if he had just woken from a brief dream, but the dream was over.
The wire paused for a second. It slowly retracted, rustling as it scraped the ground, and disappeared under the door crack.
The deathly silence returned.
Zhang Xun was still squatting there. His knuckles slowly retracted, and his palm pressed against his knee. The faint vibration from the "ding" sound still lingered there, creeping from the metal door panel all the way into his bones.
He didn't know why he was responding, nor did he know who the other person was.
But those two knocks and the "Received" were definitely his doing.
The footsteps of the zombie horde drew closer in the distance. Zhang Xun buried his face in his knees and closed his eyes. His knuckles pressed against his brow, where his heart was pounding. He suddenly felt as if something had briefly borrowed him from those thirty seconds just now.
Now the thing has been returned. But he doesn't know who borrowed it. He only knows that in that "ding," in the crisp sound of the wire hitting the door, in that one second when he said "received" and the other paused—there was another presence in the darkness. Not footsteps, not roars, not the dragging of an infected person. It was some kind of rhythmic, intentional touch.
Zhang Xun didn't open his eyes again. The tremor in his knees slowly faded, turning into a faint warmth beneath his skin. Leaning against the shelf, amidst the rustling of the zombie horde, he slowly sank into a very light sleep. His dream was filled with darkness, and in that darkness, a thin steel wire gleamed faintly.
[End of Chapter]