Invasion of America

Chapter 101 Escape
At 6:15 a.m., a grayish-white mist still shrouded the red-brick buildings of the Rosslyn neighborhood.

A military truck crashed through a barricade made of cars and furniture, ran over shards of glass, and roared through the empty street.

Every so often the truck would travel a certain distance, and several soldiers in white protective suits would jump off and knock on doors from house to house.

The purpose was twofold: firstly, to distribute living supplies, and secondly, to check for any deaths.

If a death is discovered, the soldiers open the black body bag, put the body inside, and send it to the crematorium.

As for who died and what their identity was, that's no longer important.

The soldiers peered out from inside the swaying truck bed; the windows of the buildings on both sides of the street seemed like empty eyes, silently watching the "messengers of death."

Since the lockdown began, violent attacks and resistance have become commonplace. The security guards who came to the door were also quite experienced.

Two people will remain on the truck to operate the machine gun and the vehicle, and also as backup in case of emergency. The cleanup team will consist of at least two people per team, fully armed, so they can look out for each other.

Different groups communicated via radio to ensure that if one group encountered trouble, other groups could provide support and, if necessary, open fire.

It is now the eighth day of the lockdown, and a squad of armed soldiers is parked outside a five-story apartment building in the Rosslyn neighborhood.

The sergeant leading the team glanced at the floor and immediately felt the risk was too great, so he abandoned the idea of ​​going in to check and instead shouted to the soldiers inside the carriage:
"Leave the supplies downstairs and let the survivors inside count their own numbers and carry the bodies out themselves."

The soldiers were happy to relax and were even less inclined to go into the apartment building. Instead, they used megaphones to shout, telling the people inside to come out on their own.

A short while later, two haggard-looking men came out of the building, carrying a corpse on a makeshift stretcher.
-
In the morning mist, Zhou Qingfeng lowered his head, his Asian face appearing harmless, with a deliberately maintained numb expression.

His hands, which were holding the front of the stretcher, trembled slightly, not out of fear, but to perfectly portray the image of a survivor tormented by the pandemic.

The stretcher was covered with a yellowed sheet, which vaguely outlined the shape of a emaciated corpse.

The bespectacled man hunched over behind, the condensation on his lenses blurring his gleaming eyes. Like two docile lambs, they walked mechanically toward the military truck.

The back of the truck was open, revealing several black body bags and a dozen baskets of bright red tomatoes, their redness glaringly bright in the dim morning light.

"Slow down! I know you're all resentful, and so am I." The sergeant leading the team's voice sounded muffled and distorted through his protective mask.

His rifle safety clicked crisply, and his index finger remained hovering outside the trigger guard, extremely vigilant.

"Keep your hands where I can see you. No complaining, no protesting, put the bodies in body bags and take your daily supplies."

Zhou Qingfeng slowly placed the stretcher next to the truck. When he lifted the sheet, he deliberately let the soldiers see the deceased's bluish-purple face.

It was indeed a corpse that had died from a virus; the sunken eye sockets and the blood crusts at the corners of the mouth looked incredibly real.

"The supplies are only tomatoes? No meat or staple foods?"

The bespectacled man asked in a perfectly weak tone, while he and Zhou Qingfeng carefully put the body into a body bag.

“Be content, at least it’s not rotten yet,” a soldier sneered. Through his fogged-up mask, one could see the heavy dark circles under his eyes.

The soldiers, guns in hand, coldly watched the two men carrying the body through the transparent masks on their protective suits.

Zhou Qingfeng loaded the body onto the truck, then unloaded several baskets of supplies from the truck, silently counting: six soldiers, one in the driver's cab, one in the hood, and four on guard.

The sergeant in charge shouted "Enough!" and the two stopped what they were doing.

Up until this moment, everything was normal. The soldiers' tense nerves relaxed somewhat, and they got into the vehicles, ready to drive forward.

The sergeant in charge watched Zhou Qingfeng return to the apartment before locking his rifle, opening the car door, and getting into the passenger seat.

But the moment the car door opened, Zhou Qingfeng suddenly turned around like a ghost and darted toward the sergeant in charge.

Full-body protective suits provide excellent virus isolation, but severely limit hearing and vision when worn.

Before the sergeant could even board the vehicle, he was struck hard on the back of the head and immediately lost consciousness. Zhou Qingfeng seized the gun and moved towards the back of the vehicle.

The bespectacled man moved a little slower, but he grabbed a pistol, ran back in a few steps, pointed the gun at the soldier driving the car, and hissed, "Don't move, don't shout, don't make any unnecessary movements."

The apartment door suddenly burst open, and several armed men rushed out, their faces contorted with rage. They had a clear division of labor—two men controlled the driver's seat, while three others attacked the back of the vehicle.

Before the soldiers inside the carriage could react, they saw the unusually docile Asian corpse carriers pointing their guns at them and coldly shouting:

"Raise your hands, stay quiet, don't make me overreact. Next, we're going to do a dress-up game, so cooperate."
-
Philip, who wears glasses, is a civil servant in the U.S. State Department responsible for foreign affairs. His office is located in Foggy Bottom, northwest of Washington, D.C.

The muscular Olno comes from the Marine Corps and currently works for the Pentagon, where he is able to pilot several types of helicopters currently in service with the U.S. military.

Ruby, who is older, works for the Agency for International Development and has just lost his job due to the new president's inauguration. He understands all the workings of the US government and has a wide network of connections.

There were also several men in the group, all of whom shared the common characteristic of living in the Rosslyn neighborhood, being high-ranking civil servants, and having family members who were in urgent need of medical treatment.

These men got together and then attacked the National Guard.

After taking the military truck, Orno, a former Marine, started timing himself and shouted, "Three minutes! We only have three minutes!"

The checkpoint at the intersection calls out to outgoing trucks every five minutes, and they react quickly if anything seems amiss.

Zhou Qingfeng walked over to the unconscious sergeant in charge, slapped him twice to wake him up, and demanded, "What's the radio password?"

A dozen or so women and children rushed out of the apartment building and hurriedly climbed onto the truck. Some were holding crying babies, while others were helping elderly people with mobility issues.

Their faces were a mixture of fear and hope as they boarded the bus, anxiously grasping at the last straw.

The sergeant watched this scene with a grim expression and gritted his teeth, saying, "I can understand your instinct to survive, but your wandering around will only make the epidemic worse."

People and vehicles from different blocks cannot move between them; even if you steal the truck, you won't be able to get out. You can still stop now; I won't report it.

Zhou Qingfeng pressed the barrel of his gun against the sergeant's forehead, his voice as cold as ice: "Say something useful, don't let your blood splatter all over me."

The sergeant paused for a moment, then finally compromised: "The radio password is 'Lincoln,' and the reply is 'Kennedy.'"

But remember—this password only works within this neighborhood. Once you leave, you'll be stopped immediately.

three minutes.

This hastily assembled escape team squeezed onto the truck in just three minutes.

The carriage was packed with people. Some huddled in corners trembling, while others clung tightly to the handrails on the edge of the carriage, as if afraid of being thrown out.

"Everyone hold on tight, it's going to be a bit bumpy later," Zhou Qingfeng ordered in a low voice, then grabbed the vehicle's radio.

Sure enough, less than half a minute later, the routine check by the guard platoon leader came over the radio: "B-7 patrol car, report the situation."

Zhou Qingfeng pressed the call button, his voice calm and flawless: "Lincoln."

After a brief silence, the other party responded: "Kennedy. Continue patrolling."

Whew—someone in the carriage let out a long sigh of relief.

The truck started up again, its engine whirring as it turned toward the barbed wire fence blocking the street.

A hundred meters from the barbed wire fence, Zhou Qingfeng grabbed the M4A1 rifle equipped with a silencer and an ACOG scope, and jumped off the vehicle. Marine Orno, worried that Zhou Qingfeng couldn't manage alone, volunteered to accompany him to the roof of a roadside villa, where they used military binoculars to survey the surroundings.

The rooftop offered a wide view, allowing a clear view of the surrounding area for hundreds of meters. Zhou Qingfeng knelt on one knee, the gun barrel resting steadily on Orno's shoulder.

"This crappy gun isn't accurate enough. Are you sure you can hit it?" Orno frowned.

Zhou Qingfeng didn't answer, but adjusted his breathing, first aiming at the surveillance cameras set up on the barbed wire, then turning to the guard tower set up by the guard team about four hundred meters away.

"I haven't had any formal sniping training, so I can only say I'll give it a try. Or would you like to try?"

Orno shook his head. "I'm a Marine Corps helicopter pilot, not a Marine Corps sniper, and I've never been trained in that role."

puff!puff!puff!
Three bursts of fire, the muzzle only emitted a dull thud.

Four hundred meters away, the guards on the watchtower noticed the bullet hit the tower, immediately dropped to the ground, and shouted in terror, "Shooting! Someone is shooting at us!"

But the soldiers just lay down, not daring to lift their heads, let alone look in the direction the bullets came from.

"Let's go!" Without the watchtower watching, the escape would be much smoother. To save time, Zhou Qingfeng grabbed Orno and jumped off the two-and-a-half-story rooftop.

"FUCK!" Orno cursed in mid-air, only to find himself being carried horizontally by Zhou Qingfeng like a woman when he landed, thanks to Zhou's two thick, strong legs as cushioning his fall, leaving him completely unharmed.

The two rushed back to the truck, and the people in the cargo compartment looked over nervously.

"Barbed wire, charge through it!" Zhou Qingfeng shouted in a low voice.

The army lieutenant colonel driving the truck slammed on the gas pedal, and the military truck roared as it accelerated, crashing violently into the barbed wire fence blocking the street.

boom--!
A gap was torn in the barbed wire, and the truck ran over the twisted metal, rushing into the next block.

On public broadcasts, the radios of the security forces sealing off the nearby streets exploded: "What happened? Who's under attack?"

"Which direction? Which direction?! Report! Are there any casualties?"

"Damn it, stop yelling on the radio and stop blocking the communication channels. Can't anyone explain the situation clearly?"
-
The military trucks were sturdy and powerful, and they deliberately chose to launch a breakout attack at the weak points in the guards' defenses.

Philip, who wore glasses, leaned out of the car window, staring intently at the sky, and suddenly shouted, "Hurry, hurry! There are drones in the sky! We'll be targeted soon!"

Zhou Qingfeng grabbed the walkie-talkie and said calmly, "Lucy, this is Victor. It's time to go."

The garage door of Thomas's house suddenly opened, Lucy stepped on the gas, and the pickup truck roared out.

Old man Hammer sat in the passenger seat, clutching a shotgun, and asked, puzzled, "Where are we going?"

Before the guards could react, the two vehicles met at the entrance to the 'Roslyn' subway station.

At this moment, the National Guard drones flew over, hovering in mid-air like black mechanical insects.

The high-definition camera on the belly of the aircraft, like a cold compound eye, is locked onto every moving figure at the subway station entrance.

As Lucy got out of the car, she helped her grandfather up. Seeing Zhou Qingfeng jump off the military truck, she felt a little relieved and asked, "What's the action plan?"

Zhou Qingfeng pulled a fully loaded handcart out of the back of the pickup truck. The supplies on the cart were tightly secured, and the metal wheels made a screeching sound as they rolled on the tiled floor.

“There is no plan,” Zhou Qingfeng replied. “There is only one road that was forgotten forty years ago.”

The subway in and around Washington, D.C., has stopped operating, and the subway stations are deserted. A group of people got off, their footsteps echoing repeatedly.

Zhou Qingfeng pulled a simplified route map from his breast pocket, quickly scanned it with his flashlight beam, and then pointed to the deep tunnel:
"Heading toward Pentagon Station, turn onto the J-12 maintenance access road midway—if it hasn't collapsed yet."

The group consisted mostly of the elderly and the infirm, who were already seriously ill and weak, but at this moment they could only grit their teeth and persevere, walking along the tracks after entering the subway.

"I can't go on... people will die if we walk any further..." Lucy knelt down to support her grandfather, then looked back at the others, the elderly, women, and children were mostly staggering.

The cries of babies, the suppressed coughs of the elderly, and the trembling sobs of women intertwined in the tunnel to create a desperate symphony.

"I'll go scout ahead." Zhou Qingfeng grabbed a flashlight. "Who's coming with me?"

Several former soldiers immediately stepped forward and followed him into the darkness of the tunnel.

After walking about several hundred meters, the army lieutenant colonel suddenly stopped and said, "Three hundred and twenty-seven steps..."

The beam of light in his hand swept across the right tunnel wall. "It's the J-12 maintenance tunnel. If it really exists, it must be nearby."

The wall appears no different from the rest of the wall, but when a flashlight shines at an angle, you can see that the bricks are slightly darker in color—this is clearly an alteration that was done after the renovation.

Zhou Qingfeng pulled a claw hammer from the side pocket of the cart and lightly tapped the wall with the tip of the hammer.

dong dong——

The hollow echo made everyone's pupils shrink.

"Lieutenant Colonel, your legs are more accurate than GPS." Zhou Qingfeng rarely showed a smile. The hammer twirled between his fingers.

The army lieutenant colonel said proudly, "Calculating pace and stride is my instinct, and I will never forget it until I die."

Marine Alno drew a dagger and tried to scrape open the brickwork, but as cement dust fell, he couldn't help but curse, "Concrete? Did they really need to use concrete?"
-
Zhou Qingfeng lifted the canvas on the cart, revealing a square object wrapped in an old shirt. The army lieutenant colonel smelled a sweet, cloying odor.

"A sugar bomb?"

“An improved version,” Zhou Qingfeng said. The ingredients he bought along the way before the lockdown were not only used to fill his stomach, but also to make weapons.

After boiling white sugar into syrup, potassium nitrate is mixed in a 3:7 ratio to produce a high explosive with a detonation velocity of 3200 m/s.

Alternatively, it can be mixed with chlorine oxide in a 2:8 ratio to make rocket propellant.

However, Zhou Qingfeng did not have potassium nitrate, so he used ammonium nitrate instead.

The latter is fertilizer; you can easily find it in the garage, storage room, or basement of several villas with backyard lawns.

The melted syrup became entangled with the ammonium nitrate crystals. Some of the sugar spilled onto the clothes during the process, giving it a strange smell, like some kind of wicked candy.

Zhou Qingfeng didn't have detonators, so he could only use bullets to detonate it. He used a claw hammer to chisel a fist-sized hole in the wall and carefully stuffed the explosive charge inside.

"Step back twenty meters." He cocked his rifle. "Cover your ears and open your mouths—unless you want to be deaf for the rest of your lives."

Everyone covered their ears and sought cover from the impending blast wave. He could only tear off some fabric from his clothes to stuff in his ears before raising his rifle and firing at the explosive charge.

Bang. The first bullet pierced the bundle, only kicking up a small amount of sugar powder. Neither sugar nor ammonium nitrate are highly explosive substances.

The second shot tore the shirt fabric, and ammonium nitrate particles slowly leaked out like sand in an hourglass.

The third shot—BOOM!!!

The shockwave from the explosion struck everyone like a heavy punch to the chest. Dust poured down from the tunnel ceiling like a torrential downpour, and the wall…

A jagged, menacing hole appeared amidst the smoke. The darkness within the J-12 maintenance tunnel silently stared at the outsider.

(End of this chapter)