Gray wing
The raindrops cut diagonally across the glass windows of the abandoned factory, forming a thin stream of water on the dusty windowsill. Ah Zheng huddled under the rusty machine tool, snoring dullly in his throat and digging at the cracks in the ground unconsciously with his rotten fingers.
He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had turned into a zombie. Only some vague fragments remain: the smell of disinfectant in the hospital, the glass of warm milk handed over by my wife, and the warning about the "spread of unknown virus" that scrolled on the TV news. On the day the virus broke out, he was moving steel bars at a construction site when he was suddenly thrown to the ground by a co-worker, and a tearing pain came from his neck - that was the last clear pain he felt as a "human".
When I "wake up" again, the world turned into a monotonous gray scale. There was no hunger, no exhaustion, just a primitive impulse driving him to chase warm flesh and blood. His left arm was run over by a car during a chase, but it grew back three days later, except that the new flesh was a strange blue-gray color and the surface was covered with wrinkles. This body reshaped by the virus seems to be evolving according to some unknown law.
The change started half a month ago. That day he was trapped in a burning residential building, and the scorching air made his rotten skin sizzle. The moment the beam fell, there was a sudden tearing pain in his back, as if something was about to burst out of his body. He stumbled out of the fire and hid in a corner of the abandoned factory until the spasm in the back of his neck gradually subsided.
When he lowered his head again, he saw an unfamiliar shadow reflected in the water on the ground - the two pieces behind him were originally just
