Chapter 30: No Taking It Back

Song Ge’s original route out of the city went in the opposite direction from the supermarket. Since they were going to get rice, she spent the afternoon studying the area around the convenience store near the basement.

The display window of the clothing shop next to the supermarket on the north side lay shattered across the ground. The inside looked quiet now, with no monsters in sight. But Song Ge remembered them clawing and lunging against the glass, their faces twisted into snarls. She would have to be especially careful there.

There had once been a ramp in front of the supermarket for cars to drive up, but now a private car and a snapped ornamental tree completely blocked it.

That meant that even though the electric scooter was convenient, they couldn’t ride it right up to the supermarket entrance.

They would have to leave it on the road about thirty feet away, then carry the rice and flour back.

Still, the area around the supermarket was open, with plenty of wrecked cars and fallen trees scattered across the road. Their scooter was small, so they should be able to weave in and out without trouble.

After mapping out the route, Song Ge turned her attention to the spots where the monsters liked to wander.

The weather was still hot, and the pattern of the monsters moving around less at about one in the afternoon hadn’t changed. There weren’t many in sight on the street, just four or five ragged monsters with broken limbs, wandering slowly beneath a tree.

The monsters avoided the heat, but that didn’t mean high temperatures actually harmed them.

At least, the last time Song Ge had seen them, their ability to move hadn’t weakened at all.

Going into the supermarket for supplies was clearly much more dangerous than heading straight out of the city.

The supermarket was an enclosed space.

Like the classroom they’d been in before.

At least the classroom had windows. They couldn’t easily find or open the supermarket’s back door, and if the monsters surrounded them once they were inside, she’d be like a turtle trapped in a jar—no way out.

“Sister Yuyu, you’re looking at that cold, distant girl again.”

Tong Xiangyu hurriedly snapped out of her thoughts and looked away. The little girl, Dandan, had teased her with such carefree amusement that Tong Xiangyu could only smile. Inside, though, she was anything but at ease.

She was starting to wonder if she’d made a reckless decision.

Song Ge had been busy planning their escape from the city for days, but she’d never looked as tense as she did now. Her brows had been furrowed the whole time.

Zhu Lulu and several girls from No. 2 High School were there, too.

They’d been chatting casually, but Dandan’s remark brought the conversation to a halt.

Zhu Lulu looked at Tong Xiangyu, then at Song Ge by the railing. “Song seems to like standing over there. What’s she looking at? Doesn’t she get hot standing in the sun?”

“She’s so strange,” said one of the long-haired girls from No. 2 High School. “I can’t stand in the sun for even a minute in this weather, but she can stay there for hours.”

Someone else chimed in. “Whenever I see her, she’s always standing in the same spot.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t like people.”

“I don’t know, but I think she might be a T.”

Zhu Lulu asked, “What’s a T?”

“It’s a butch lesbian—the more masculine one.”

“What’s a lesbian?”

“A gay woman,” the girl from No. 2 High School explained. “Gay means a man who likes men, and lesbian means a woman who likes women. Girls who act aloof and dress more like guys are usually into girls, too.”

Zhu Lulu frowned. “Don’t say things like that without knowing,” she said, then glanced at Tong Xiangyu.

The girl from No. 2 High School said, “I’m not making it up. Our school’s full of hard butches. There are way more girls than boys at our arts school, so you can’t blame us for being fooled by Fan Mingyuan’s looks.”

They carried on chatting, but Tong Xiangyu couldn’t bring herself to listen. The more she thought about it, the more she regretted her hasty decision. Or maybe…maybe she could pretend she didn’t know anything, while there was still time.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she startled herself.

How could she think that? Grandma Tian had kindly taken them in, and Auntie Jiang had been so good to them. How could she even consider it?

That evening, Song Ge explained the plan to Tong Xiangyu.

When Song Ge said that, to be safe, someone would have to keep watch outside the supermarket, Tong Xiangyu immediately raised her hand. “Me! I’m going with you, so I can keep watch!”

Song Ge looked at her. “You won’t just be keeping watch. You’ll have to carry things, too. I’ll bring rice and flour out of the supermarket, and you’ll have to load them onto the scooter. Can you manage that?”

“Of course I can. Don’t underestimate me.”

Song Ge thought, I’m not trying to underestimate you. You think a military knife is too heavy. She glanced around the room, picked up a few things, then finally handed Tong Xiangyu a solid wood chair.

Tong Xiangyu looked at Song Ge, baffled.

“If we’re carrying a 22-pound sack of rice, it’ll be about this heavy.”

Tong Xiangyu took it with both hands. Its weight dragged them down, and she let out a little yelp as she hurriedly steadied it.

Song Ge saw her struggling, every finger straining until it turned pale. “We’ll have to find someone else.”

“No, no.” Tong Xiangyu hurriedly set the chair down, flustered. “We absolutely can’t tell anyone about this. First, it’ll cause a panic. Second, if they find out Grandma Tian has an electric scooter, do you think we’ll still be able to leave with it?”

Song Ge paused and looked at Tong Xiangyu. “So you feel guilty?”

The topic had shifted too quickly. Tong Xiangyu didn’t understand. “What?”

“You’re worried that once we take the landlady’s scooter, everyone here will be in danger going to get food without it. That’s why you want to take care of this before we leave?”

Tong Xiangyu stared at her for a moment. She hadn’t thought of it that way, but now that Song Ge mentioned it, she realized that was part of it. She nodded.

The furrow in Song Ge’s brow, which had lasted nearly all afternoon, finally eased. She let out a breath. “Good.”

Tong Xiangyu didn’t understand. “What do you mean, good?”

Song Ge picked up the solid wood chair with one hand and walked toward the window. “I thought it was because you had such a soft heart that you wanted to help everyone who ran into trouble.”

Tong Xiangyu followed her without thinking. “They’re not just anyone, are they?”

“They’ve shared a roof with us for a few days. Does that make them our people?”

Tong Xiangyu wanted to say that wasn’t what she meant, but she couldn’t find the words. So she turned Song Ge’s own argument against her. “Didn’t you say yourself that we had Auntie Jiang and the others to thank for cooking for us all this time?”

“They only did it as part of the arrangement. Now we’d be risking our lives.” Song Ge stopped and handed her the chair. She had her own principles for dealing with things. “And the people who helped us were the landlady and the Jiangs. But if we bring back rice and flour, everyone will benefit. That isn’t fair, either.”

Tong Xiangyu took the heavy chair without thinking. Her attention was on the conversation, not the weight. “Not everyone cares about what’s fair.”

“I do.”

Tong Xiangyu’s brows drew together slightly. The chair was heavy, and her hands trembled as she held it. “So you’re thinking of changing your mind?”

“No.” Song Ge took the chair back when she saw how much it weighed on her. “I never go back on my word.”

Tong Xiangyu was already wavering in her own mind, so hearing Song Ge say that left her unsure whether to feel relieved or even more worried. She opened and closed her fingers several times. “Then why did you say all that?”

Song Ge didn’t answer. She waited for Tong Xiangyu to rest, then handed her the chair again.

This time, Tong Xiangyu looked at it but didn’t take it. She shook her head. “No. My hands hurt.”

“That’s all it takes to make them hurt? Tomorrow we’ll be carrying even more rice.” Song Ge held the chair out to her. “Pick it up and put it on the sofa.”

Tong Xiangyu’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because when you stack the rice, you’ll have to lift it.”

“…”

Only then did Tong Xiangyu realize Song Ge had been talking to distract her so she could get used to the chair’s weight.

Tong Xiangyu carried the heavy chair over to the sofa, but her hands hurt. Unable to help herself, she grumbled, “A bag of rice won’t have corners digging into my hands like this chair does!”

“Rice doesn’t have corners to grip, either. That’s what makes it harder to pick up.”

Tong Xiangyu pouted, looking rather unhappy.

Song Ge saw her expression and suddenly said, “Still, you’re stronger than I thought.”

Tong Xiangyu’s eyes lit up at once. She looked at Song Ge with a wide-eyed, hopeful gaze.

Song Ge added, “Don’t look at me. Keep practicing.”

Tong Xiangyu huffed at the one-second compliment, but she’d found her motivation again. She lifted the heavy chair and said, “I told you I could do it. I’m not a burden!”

Song Ge watched her, thinking that the young lady must have used all her intelligence on her studies.

The last-minute practice did help.

But the next day, Tong Xiangyu’s arms were so sore she could barely lift them.

She worried about it constantly, kneading her arms the way Song Ge had shown her to relax the muscles. By noon the soreness had eased a little, and by evening it was almost gone.

When Tong Xiangyu picked up the solid wood chair again, her hands no longer trembled.

It had clearly worked!

Song Ge quietly opened the building’s front door.

With a mask on, Tong Xiangyu followed close behind, moving carefully. She whispered, “Song Ge, why are we going at night? There are fewer monsters during the day, aren’t there?”

“Do you think they can’t see us in daylight?”

“But at night, we can’t see them…”

“I can.”

The moon hung high, and no clouds obscured the sky. The moonlight was faint, but Song Ge had good eyesight and could see perfectly well in it.

Tong Xiangyu couldn’t. The bright sunlight had injured her eyes, and they still hadn’t healed completely. She wasn’t used to the dark.

Outside, she waved a hand in the air. As soon as she touched Song Ge, she grabbed the hem of her clothes.

Song Ge walked ahead, with Tong Xiangyu following behind.

They made their way through the darkness to where the old electric scooter was parked.

Song Ge put in the key and started it. Then she found the switch on the handlebars and flicked it. A headlight blazed through the darkness.

Tong Xiangyu let out a quiet “Wow.” Keeping her voice low, she said, “I completely forgot the scooter had a headlight!” Then, worried, she asked, “Won’t the light attract the monsters?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell.” Song Ge said, “The monsters are about as active at night as they are during the day, so light doesn’t seem to affect them.”

“Then what does?”

“Temperature,” Song Ge said quietly. “They’re basically just parasites infected by the virus. Viruses are supposed to hate high temperatures, so they’re least active around noon.”

Tong Xiangyu whispered, “But it’s so hot, and they still haven’t died.”

“What virus can be killed by temperatures over 104 degrees?” Song Ge said. “They can clearly distinguish living things—people and animals. My guess is that they have some kind of special sensory system, like…what’s it called? Some kind of high-tech thing.”

Tong Xiangyu blinked. “Do you mean infrared thermal imaging?”

Song Ge looked at her.

Tong Xiangyu had almost started rambling, but she remembered herself and stopped. “It uses temperature to detect living things and create an image.”

“Exactly,” Song Ge said.

“If it works that way, is there anything we can do to hide from them?”

“Yes. The simplest thing would be to block the heat our bodies produce. We could line our clothes with tin foil to insulate ourselves.”

Song Ge went on with her preparations. “What’s that?”

“They’re metallic elements, silvery-white and very malleable. Tin can be used to solder metals and make alloys. Platinum is platinum—you know, white gold? It’s chemically very stable and doesn’t dissolve in strong acids—”

Song Ge cut her off. “We don’t have that. Is there anything else?”

“There’s also a special high-tech material that’s supposed to be used for camouflage.”

“Forget it.” If it was high-tech, there was no chance of getting it. Song Ge tucked her T-shirt into her pants and tightened the drawstring. She slipped the flashlight through her collar and down inside her shirt so she wouldn’t have to hold it, then pulled her mask up over her chin. As she pushed the scooter toward the back door, she said in a low voice, “Go over the plan again.”

“You go into the supermarket for rice, and I keep watch outside. If I see a monster, I’ll call out immediately. Oh, right, Song Ge, you took the two marbles Dandan gave me, didn’t you? You said the monsters have bad balance, so they’d fall if they stepped on them. But the road’s so wide that the chances of them stepping on a marble are tiny. So I asked Auntie Jiang for a bag of soybeans.”

“Soybeans are too small. Even if the monsters step on them, they won’t fall.”

“One soybean might not do it, but a whole lot of them will.” Tong Xiangyu said, “Trust me.”

Song Ge acknowledged that, then looked at her empty hands. “Where are the soybeans?”

“In the room.”

Song Ge: “…”

Tong Xiangyu saw her fall silent and immediately understood. Anxiously, she asked, “Oh, we’re using them tonight? I thought we’d need them when we escaped the city. I’ll go get them now!”

“Forget it.” Song Ge was already leading the scooter outside. She tied a special knot around the back door’s handle so it wouldn’t lock behind them. If the door was shoved, the knot would only tighten.

The night was stiflingly hot. Even through their masks, they could smell the air thick with rot.

Song Ge swung onto the scooter. “Get on. We’ll do this as quickly as we can.”

Tong Xiangyu nodded firmly. She climbed on behind Song Ge and wrapped both arms tightly around her narrow waist.

Song Ge noticed how tense she was. “Don’t hold on so tight. You’re squeezing the life out of me.”

“Oh. Right.” The tension that had made Tong Xiangyu cling to her evaporated almost at once. Sheepishly, she loosened her arms and settled for gripping Song Ge’s shirt instead.