The hours passed by like a blur for Junming. He nursed a giant bump on his head from smashing the ambulance into the lamppost but other than that, he was fine. Physically. 

Emotionally, not so. He had gotten down at the Jurong Lake zone, been close enough to see the Infected turn on her father, and then another. Lucky for him, Mei had pulled him back to his wits and got him back onto the scout car. The cart was much roomier now. It sent a shiver down his spine.

He didn’t know what happened after that. It felt like they kept driving in circles, evading hordes and stragglers. The male and female supply runners discussed where they should go with the people in the front of the car, but he couldn’t process anything except the wounds that everyone had. 

A scratch on that man’s leg. A deepening bruise on the woman’s neck. A bleeding head injury. The list went on. He had an urge to tend to all those wounds but something in him had just stopped working. It was as if he was on autopilot, bumping and jerking around in the back of the cart. Mei tried to talk to him but all he could manage was one-word responses.

All the running and the dying had taken him back to those days when the Z-virus had eaten its way through Singapore. A day very much like today when he had escaped the family clinic with a bunch of patients in tow. He still remembered the sad smile on his father’s face and the tears in his mother’s eyes as they drove off the parking garage, sailing into the air with zombies clinging to every part of the car. They had sacrificed their lives for him and he lived every day with that reminder hanging over his head.

Glancing at the dark sky, he wondered whether his parents were looking down at him from above. In a few days, it would be the Chinese Ghost Festival. He had been preparing to pay respects to his parents that day but it seemed the heavens were not on his side. Fat droplets of rain hit his cheeks. He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe this was his parents’ way of saying they were here for him.

Rain was good for them and bad for the undead. Somehow, their constitutions got weaker under the rain. No one knew why. 

He pressed his palms together in prayer, muttering a psalm he had memorized since childhood. Maybe his parents’ ghosts would bless them with a place to hide. 

The car spun to the right. They had been heading east into the Clementi area for a while, following the elevated railway line. Junming scrambled up into a better sitting position. He peeked through the polyweave fabric to see them roll down a quiet street. To their left was a primary school, its roof shaped in the distinctive curve of typical Chinese pavilions. 

They pulled to a stop at the gates. The tattooed man in the passenger seat got out, stalked over, and fiddled with the lock. Junming winced as more droplets rained down. The dark clouds were over them now and a distant rumble of thunder sent a note of foreboding through his tired bones.

The gates were pushed open and the car rolled into the empty driveway. Junming got up cautiously along with the other survivors. They jumped down from the cart but were unwilling to move more than a few meters away from the scout car.

The male supply runner went to the front of the car and within seconds, the solar panels unfolded to catch the remaining rays of sunlight. Tattooed da ge, or big brother - Junming figured the muscular man must be a gangster head in the pre-apocalypse days - gestured to them to gather at the large atrium, his two kids trailing behind him. Junming took in the musty smell of mildew and the faint stench of decay. To one side were neat rows of stacked tables and chairs, probably abandoned during a school event. On the other side was a feature corner with steps leading up to a low platform where a digital piano stood, broken in half. Mei stuck close to him, almost hugging his arm, as they huddled together like a bunch of scared kids. Behind them, the rain drummed heavily on the car’s panels. 

“We’ll be staying here for the night,” Tattooed Big Brother said, his voice deep and calm. “I want everyone to stock up on food, water, and most importantly, get a weapon you can use.”

“Is this place even safe?” Mrs. Lim’s sharp voice pierced through the sound of the rain.

She hugged her daughter to her side, her business jacket bloodied, her high ponytail in disarray. Junming’s heart went out to mother and child but there was nothing much he could do for them.

“We have checked this place before on our previous supply runs and it was clean. Of course, I cannot confirm a hundred percent that it is still zombie-free.” Tattooed Big Brother paused. “So I suggest we split into three groups and sweep the school. Those who are too injured or have kids should remain here.”

Junming looked at Mei. Her lips trembled at the thought of searching the school. He whispered, “Stay with me. We’ll take care of the injured here.”

“O-Okay.”

Junming made a beeline for the tattooed man. “Da ge, Mei and I are medical professionals. We would like to stay behind and take care of the injured.”

The man’s steely gray eyes met his. Junming couldn’t help but suppress a shudder.

“That’s fine. It’s good to have doctors with us. And please call me Ah Long.”

Relieved, Junming smiled. “Thank you.”

“Can you take care of my kids for me, Doctor?” Ah Long gestured to the girl and boy clinging to his legs.

“Of course.” Junming bent down and smiled at the terrified children. “I’m Junming. What are your names?”

The young boy cowered and scurried behind the heavyset man. Emboldened by Junming’s kind voice, the girl said hesitantly, “I’m Pei Yi and my brother is Pei Wen.”

“Those are beautiful names.”

Pei Yi blushed.

“This is my good friend, Mei.” Junming gestured to the nurse to come forward. She beamed at the young kids, her fear forgotten. “She’ll be playing with us too.”

“We are playing games?” Pei Wen piped up, his big round eyes bright and shining.

“Yes, we are.”

Sensing that his kids were comfortable with Junming, Ah Long retreated into the background, but not before sending a meaningful glance at the doctor. A glance that Junming read as saying “Take good care of my kids or else”. A shiver ran down his back.

Ah Long and the able men and women broke off and headed in three directions - one group took the stairs up to the higher levels, one group headed towards the left wing across the basketball court, and the last group took the right wing. The people left in the atrium were Ah Long’s kids, Mrs. Lim and her daughter, the woman who had been found in the trunk of a car, and a couple they had picked up at the Jurong Lake zone. 

With so much responsibility heaved onto his small head, Junming switched to his usual working mode. Pei Yi and Pei Wen were both in perfect health at a glance. Mei would take care of them. So his first order of business was Mrs. Lim and her daughter. The two of them sat on the steps leading to the raised platform. He crouched down beside Alicia.

“Are you feeling okay, Alicia?” he said gently.

The girl managed a wry smile and nodded. Rubbing a soothing hand down her daughter’s back, Mrs. Lim looked down at Junming. “Do you have any gastric pills?”

“Oh, yes, I do.” He slung his bag around and rummaged around in it, pulling out a strip of small, yellow pills. “There you go.”

Murmuring her thanks, Mrs. Lim took the strip and popped two pills out, giving one to her daughter and taking one for herself. Satisfied that they seemed okay, Junming moved to the next patient - the woman in the trunk. She had placed her red duffel bag on top of one of the plastic tables and was studying the contents in earnest. As he neared, she sensed his movement and zipped her bag up.

“What do you want?” she said, her tone biting.

Trying not to let her confrontational vibe affect him, he lifted his palms up to show he came in peace. “I’m a doctor. I just wanted to check whether you need help.”

“Well, I don’t.”

As she spun around to leave, she lifted her duffel bag and immediately winced. Her wrist gave way and the bag sank back down to the table with a muffled thump. She hissed, her hand flying to massage her sore wrist.

The corner of Junming’s lips lifted in a knowing smile. “I can help you bandage those abrasions.”

She shot a glare at him. But as she gave a careful rotation of her wrist, her lips thinned into a line. “Fine.”

He closed the distance and placed his bag beside hers. Humming, he searched for bandages. She peered at his contents, her eyes darting around the mess of goods he had salvaged from the hospital.

“Do you have any painkillers?” she mumbled.

“Ah, yes.” He fished out a set of bandages and a strip of Nurofen. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she said briskly. “Not at all.”

Junming pulled the medicine to his chest as she reached for it. “Then why do you need Nurofen?”

“It’s…” She growled in exasperation. “Just give it to me.”

“Not until you tell me why.”

Her eyes shone with violence as she glared at him. Junming gulped. He was almost sure that she would pounce on him and hit him in the face with the way she clenched her fists by her side. Instead, she forced out through gritted teeth, “If you really must know, I have my monthly… you know, woman thing.”

Junming stared at her for a moment before stifling a laugh. “Okay, that’s valid.”

He handed it out and she snatched the medicine away from him. He waited for her to take it before gesturing to her wrists. “Let me help you with the bandage.”

He must have worn her down because she held out her hands without a word. As he cleaned her wound, he snuck a look at her. Her features and accent were not local. The narrowed shape of her eyes and her slightly higher pitch on certain words gave her away as someone from China. 

“Which part of China are you from?” he asked in perfect Chinese without any local accent.

Her eyes raised in surprise. She replied in her native mother tongue, “Beijing. Are you from China too?”

“Oh, no. I’m a local here.”

“Your Chinese is really good.”

“Thanks. My mother was from Harbin.”

“I see.”

Seeing that her features had softened, he asked, “So may I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

For the first time since he had laid eyes on her, she smiled. 

“Sinjin. My name is Sinjin.”