The argument started over a fried chicken drumstick.
Specifically, one that Wang Lee had eaten without announcing his intentions to anyone, which under normal circumstances would be a completely unremarkable thing to do with food you want to eat. Unfortunately, Wei Tianxu had been thinking about that drumstick since morning.
"I was saving it," Tianxu said.
"It was in the shared box," Wang Lee said, cheeks still working.
"I put it in the shared box because I was coming back for it."
"That's not how shared boxes work."
Tianxu was built like someone had designed a person specifically to move heavy objects. Broad across the shoulders, thick through the arms, the kind of build that made teachers unconsciously straighten up when he walked past. Half the girls in class had his name saved under something embarrassing in their contacts. Right now he was standing over Wang Lee with an expression that could reasonably be described as betrayed.
Wang Lee, to his credit, did not look particularly threatened. He was soft around the edges in the way comfortable people are, unbothered in a way that suggested he'd been in enough low-stakes situations like this to know exactly how they ended.
"You ate my drumstick," Tianxu said.
"There are more in the box."
"That was the big one."
"They're all the same size, Tianxu."
"They are absolutely not all the same—"
I was sitting nearby watching this with my chin in my hand. Honestly it was the most entertaining thing that had happened since the fish this morning. A few others had drifted over too, the way people always drift toward minor conflict when there's nothing else to do.
Here's the thing about Tianxu that most people outside our class didn't get, they saw the shoulders and the scowl and filled in the rest themselves. Easy mistake. I'd seen him shut down actual bullies three separate times since first year without once raising his voice more than necessary.
There was this one time during an exchange visit from some other school. Some first-year kid, probably trying to prove something to his friends, walked up to me from behind while I was at the vending machine. I didn't even register it fully before Tianxu had stepped between us and the kid was somehow already two meters away looking confused about how he'd gotten there. Nobody threw a punch. The kid just... relocated. Quickly. Against his will.
Tianxu had then gone back to his drink like nothing happened.
Afterward I'd said thanks. He'd shrugged and said "You're annoying when you're in a bad mood" which I think was his version of you're welcome.
So no, he wasn't a bully. He was just a large person who had strong feelings about drumstick ownership and nobody had told him that was a bit much yet because he was also the kind of person who tossed exchange students across hallways without visible effort.
"You owe me a drumstick," Tianxu said, pointing.
"I'll get you one later."
"When later?"
"Later later."
"Wang Lee—"
"ZOMBIES!"
The word hit the campsite like a stone through glass.
Everyone went still. Tianxu's pointing finger stayed in the air. Wang Lee stopped chewing.
It was Park Junho who'd screamed it, a wiry kid from the back of the class who was always first to share anything online. He was holding his phone up with both hands and his face had gone the specific color of someone who'd been laughing at something on the internet and then slowly realized it wasn't funny.
"There's a video," he said. His voice had dropped from the scream into something smaller. "It's on NewZ19. It's... look, just look—"
He turned the phone outward.
People crowded in. I stood up, not rushing, and looked over a few shoulders.
The footage was clearer than the ones I'd seen this morning. Daylight, a wide street, shot from a second floor window by someone with steady enough hands that they'd clearly decided filming was more important than whatever else they could've been doing. Down on the street there were things moving. The way they moved was the problem. That lurching, directional aggression, the complete absence of hesitation.
Someone in the crowd around Junho made a short sound and looked away.
Mr. Hao pushed through, took one look at the phone, and took a breath that suggested his coffee hadn't been strong enough for today.
"Alright," he said. "Everyone stay calm."
"Sir, is that—"
"Stay calm," he said again, with the specific firmness of a man who did not currently feel calm but understood that someone had to be. "Don't start making assumptions from one video. We don't know—"
"It's not one video," someone said from the back.
Silence.
I had already stepped away from the group. Pulled out my own phone. NewZ19 was moving fast, not just the one video, dozens now, different cities, different angles, same pattern. The comment sections were the readable kind of chaos, the kind where every third post was someone tagging a friend saying bro and every other one was someone who'd clearly already made up their mind about what was happening and was typing in all caps about it.
I closed the app.
Looked at the lake. Flat and quiet and completely unaware of itself.
Looked at the island, our island, technically. The campsite. The treeline that ran thick and deep behind us, the dock, the single boat we'd arrived on that Mr. Hao had the keys to somewhere. We were forty minutes from the mainland by water. Minimum.
I thought about the fish this morning.
Then I thought about the treeline. What you could build in there, given time. What the lake offered. How many people we had and which ones would be useful and which ones would need to be managed. How long the food supplies lasted and what came after that.
It was a lot of thoughts to have in about twelve seconds but they arrived in an organized enough order that I just let them run.
I almost smiled.
Not because the situation was good. Obviously the situation was not good. More because, I'd spent years watching every survival video I could find, building structures in backyards and empty lots, learning what you could eat and what you couldn't, how to filter water, how to construct something that would last. All of it with no real reason beyond the fact that I found it interesting.
Funny how things work out.
"Shenzi."
I turned.
Minxue was standing a few steps away from the main group, not looking at the phone anymore. She was looking at me. Specifically at my face, with an expression I didn't immediately have a category for — not the panic that was starting to spread through the others, not the forced calm Mr. Hao was performing. Something more attentive than either.
"What are you thinking?" she asked quietly.
"Nothing," I said.
She didn't look like she believed me. Her eyes moved across my face like she was reading something written there that I hadn't meant to leave visible.
I turned back toward the lake.
Behind us, someone started crying. Junho was still holding his phone up. Tianxu had forgotten entirely about the drumstick and was standing with his arms crossed looking at Mr. Hao like he was waiting for a plan.
The lake stayed flat and quiet.
I looked at the treeline again.
Yeah. This'll be interesting.