There were more newcomers than expected.
Originally, it was said there were over two hundred people, but after adding the families of the National Guard, plus a few civilians hiding in the warehouses on the outskirts of the camp, the final count came to three hundred and twenty-one.
With the base's original population of nearly three hundred, the population of the CDC broke through the five hundred mark overnight.
Wu Fan stood at the third-floor window, watching the crowd lining up for food in the open space below, and felt that the building had suddenly become smaller.
Since the cafeteria couldn't hold everyone, a few large pots were temporarily set up in the open space.
The aroma of oatmeal drifted up, mixing with the scent of disinfectant to create a strange, apocalyptic atmosphere.
The quarantine zone was already full; every empty room on the second, third, and fourth floors was packed with people, and temporary cots were set up in the hallways.
Even the first-floor lobby was covered in sleeping bags, and one had to walk on tiptoes, turning sideways, lest they accidentally step on someone's arm or leg.
The basement of the CDC was even worse.
Originally a CDC laboratory, it had now been cleared out for people to live in.
They moved to the third basement level of the Hive.
Cots were packed one right next to another, making it difficult even to turn around.
Some snored, some talked in their sleep, and some woke up crying in the middle of the night. Someone next door would shout "Shut up," the crying would turn into suppressed sobs, and then everyone would pretend not to hear.
The red queen's surveillance cameras rotated silently in the four corners of the basement, their red indicator lights like four eyes that never closed.
Amy led a few security personnel on rotating shifts, changing batches every two hours, walking back and forth in the corridors with flashlights.
Whoever had a fever, whoever had nightmares, whoever wandered the hallways in the middle of the night—all had to be watched.
During the three-day quarantine, no mistakes could be made.
Wu Fan rubbed the space between his eyebrows, his eyes full of exhaustion.
This was just the beginning.
Five hundred people—how much food would they consume every day?
How much water?
How much medicine?
The walls needed expanding, housing needed to be built, the training ground needed to be enlarged, and the sewage system needed to be renovated—things surged in like a tide, wave after wave, leaving no time to even catch a breath.
But the benefits were also substantial.
Over one hundred and forty security personnel.
The original few dozen people had struggled to guard the walls, but now they could take shifts.
Watching the jumping point numbers on his system panel, a faint smile finally appeared on his lips.
In the base's open area, the newcomers stood in line, holding bowls in their hands.
The oatmeal had been freshly cooked this morning; it was thick enough for a spoon to stand up in. Each person got one scoop, along with half a steamed bun.
At the front of the line, Lieutenant Wells held his bowl, staring at the steaming porridge, stunned for quite a while.
A Soldier beside him nudged him: "Sir, aren't you going to eat?"
Wells lowered his head and took a sip.
It was hot.
It was so hot that his eyes stung.
He had forgotten the last time he had drunk hot porridge.
In the camp, compressed biscuits soaked in water were the best meal. Sometimes there weren't even enough biscuits, and each person would get two pieces, holding them in their mouths to wait for them to soften slowly, swallowing them like medicine.
He carried his bowl to the side, found a clean spot to sit, and drank it spoonful by spoonful.
Sitting next to him was an old woman with completely white hair; her hands trembled violently, and half the porridge in her spoon spilled onto her clothes.
The young man next to her wanted to help, but the old woman shook her head and drank it slowly by herself.
Wells looked at the old woman, then looked around—old people pushing wheelchairs, toddlers learning to walk, pregnant women with big bellies.
They were all drinking porridge, and they were all living.
He suddenly felt that coming here was the right choice.
"Excuse me—"
A young woman walked over with a bowl and asked timidly: "I heard there's an underground city down here. Is that true?"
Wells paused for a moment and shook his head: "I just arrived, too, so I'm not really sure."
A security guard in a black uniform nearby heard this and chimed in: "It's true. There's an entrance on the third basement level of this building. There are several levels called the Hive. Researchers and the families of security personnel can live inside. It's exactly like the surface, with houses, lawns, and schools."
The young woman's eyes lit up: "Families of security personnel? Then if I join the security team, can my daughter live in there too?"
The security guard nodded: "You have to pass an assessment. But even if you can't get in, the conditions on the surface aren't bad. See over there?"
He pointed to the wall under construction in the distance: "After that wall is built, the entire CDC will be safe. Later, we'll expand to the nearby town, and you'll be able to move out into a detached house; it's the same."
The young woman looked at the concrete wall being poured, then looked at the intact houses in the distant town, deep in thought.
People nearby gathered to listen, and some had already started asking how to join the security team.
Wells didn't speak, just lowered his head and continued drinking his porridge.
In the afternoon, Amy set up a few tables in the open space and shouted through a megaphone: "Fill out the forms! Write down your previous occupation clearly! Whatever skills you have, whatever work you've done, write it all down! If you can't write, ask someone for help!"
The crowd surged over, squeezing into a mass.
Some pushed to the front, grabbed a form, and filled it out rapidly.
Others stood outside the crowd, staring blankly at the form, not knowing what use their profession had in this world.
A middle-aged man wearing glasses stood on the edge of the crowd, looking at the form in his hand, hesitating to write.
Before the apocalypse, he was a marketing director at a company, managing dozens of people with an annual salary of a million.
What about now? The word "market" itself no longer existed.
He smiled bitterly, wrote "Marketing" on the form, and then crossed it out.
He thought about it, wrote "Management," and crossed that out too. Finally, he handed in a blank sheet.
"I don't have any technical skills..."
He said to Amy: "But I can do anything—lay bricks, dig dirt, carry sandbags—whatever, as long as I can stay."
Amy glanced at him and nodded: "Go over there and report to Shane; the security department is short on people."
The man paused, then walked over quickly.
Several people nearby heard this and followed.
"I want to join the security team too!"
"Count me in!"
"I was a Soldier! Although I only served for two years—"
Shane was surrounded in the middle, holding a stack of forms, registering them one by one.
He asked for names, experience, and whether they knew how to use a gun.
Those who could use them stood on the left, and those who couldn't stood on the right.
Then he made the people on the right do push-ups, sit-ups, and shuttle runs.
He eliminated the few who really couldn't do it and accepted the rest.
Over two hundred people signed up for security, and in the end, one hundred and forty were accepted.
Including the original team members, Wu Fan suddenly had over one hundred and eighty people under his command.
He stood at the third-floor window, watching the newly recruited security personnel being divided into squads below, his mind calculating rapidly.
Eight squads, about twenty-five people in each.
Four squads would go out to sweep for Walkerss and scavenge for supplies.
Two squads would take turns guarding the base walls and the main gate.
The remaining two squads would rest, rotating the next day.
They would rotate shifts every seven days; no one was allowed to slack off.
He picked up a pen and scribbled on the paper.
The first and second squads would be responsible for sweeping, led by Merle and Daryl.
The third and fourth squads would be responsible for sweeping, led by Rick and Glenn.
The fifth and sixth squads would be responsible for defense, led by Shane and Andrea.
The seventh and eighth squads were currently resting, also responsible for defense, led by Sandra and Wells.
As for the helicopter Wells brought, he would have him train pilots when he had time, and put the seventh and eighth squads under Sandra's leadership.
Four squads out, four squads at home; every day, two hundred people would work, two hundred would rest, and one hundred would be on the perimeter.
The walls would continue to be built, containers would continue to be hauled, Walkerss would continue to be killed, and supplies would continue to be collected.
By the time he came to his senses, it was already dark.
Amy walked in carrying a cup of coffee and placed it on the table.
"Still busy?"
"Yeah."
Wu Fan took the coffee and took a sip: "Are the people all settled in?"
"All settled."
Amy said: "The basement of the CDC is full too, but the red queen is watching, so there won't be any problems."
Wu Fan nodded, looking out the window.
The open space was empty, and the large pots were turned upside down on tables to prevent rats from crawling inside.
In the distance, a few lights were still on at the wall construction site, with people working through the night.
He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
Five hundred people.
Two hundred security personnel.
Eight squads.
The walls were being raised, containers were being stacked, and the Hive was being unlocked level by level.
Outside, there were Walkerss, raiders, and the next wave of the horde that could arrive at any time.
But at least today, these five hundred people were alive, well-fed, and had a place to sleep.
"Amy."
He opened his eyes.
"Hmm?"
"Tomorrow, have the kitchen make more meat. Those newcomers haven't eaten well in a long time."
Amy smiled: "Okay."
She turned and walked out.
Walking to the door, she looked back at Wu Fan.
He had already lowered his head again, looking at the map.
The pencil scratched rustlingly on the paper. Outside the window, the night breeze was light, and in the distance, an occasional roar of a Walkers could be heard, before returning to silence.
~~~~~~
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