Chapter 7：Lake of the Slayers

Compared to the chatty Payton, Demnia was always on the quiet side. Payton was an optimist, one who found the structured environment of school life suffocating. The study of textbooks and the sight of teachers were so aversive that he completed high school at the earliest chance and eschewed further education to work at an auto repair shop in Plymouth—a job his Uncle Lawrence had lined up for him.

It was supposed to keep Payton busy, but he soon proved to have a stunning aptitude for mechanics. While complexities of vehicles baffle many, Payton could effortlessly deduce issues just by listening to the engine run—equalling the talent of seasoned mechanics boasting three decades of experience. His high school never pried into how he studied detailed "Mechanical Master" schematics, the "R&R Complete Model Repair Manual," or even the French "Automobile Design" magazine.

Payton loved cars, regarding them as genius human inventions—transforming legs into rolling wheels. He knew every car type and, with time, learned each detail about vehicle maintenance.

And so, Payton was acknowledged as an automobile repair prodigy.

Demnia, however, was different. A serene girl with a quarter Chinese heritage from her paternal grandfather and a French grandmother; she was a half-sister to Payton, which contributed to her unique hair color. Though fascinating tales lay within their shared history, it's sufficient to know they had half-blood ties, but this never waned their bond—they connected as close as full siblings.

Where Payton was jovial, Demnia was his stark opposite or "对立" as Chinese would say. She was action-oriented, sometimes scaring even Uncle Lawrence. During high school, while cliques and bullying raged, Demnia chose to dive into her studies quietly and, on graduation night, she broke the ribs of anyone who had wronged her—each getting three, just short of being considered grievous.

Intrigued by the human body, Demnia aspired to become a doctor, leaving both Uncle Lawrence and Payton wondering whether she was driven by the desire to heal or by an odd little predilection.

Beneath her calm exterior was a heart, confidently hers, pulsing with thoughts as intriguing as they were unfathomable.

Before she took up the Stewart name, she was known as Demnia Bourbon. If not for a devastating car accident that claimed her parents, she and Payton might have continued to live a joyful family life. Despite the tragedy, Uncle Lawrence was a warm figure in their lives, even if he now had a troubling inclination towards human flesh.

Demnia and Payton kept Uncle Lawrence contained in a guesthouse in Fellaria Village, hoping he wouldn't venture out.

Demnia was very familiar with Chen Dao's car and location—she had visited many times. It was during one of her strolls that she spotted Chen, initially mistaking him for a zombie. After she collected some supplies, she called Payton, and together, they brought Chen back with them.

She couldn't shake the feeling that Chen seemed out of place in this world. But his seasoned manner of surveying the forest by the lakeside showed true survival instincts.

Noticing her gaze, Chen, cautious not to raise his voice, communicated with Demnia through gestures, asking if there was any cause for concern. Demnia simply pointed towards the vehicle's resting place, a trail cut from the county road to the lake's edge—clear evidence leading them forward.

As they headed along the county road, they encountered a world devoid of life, save for a few vehicles that had crashed into oblivion; no undead were in sight. The nearby dense woods likely lured zombies in, trapping them amongst the trees and away from the road.

The riverbank near Shade Lake, however, presented no danger. The sparse tree line offered visibility unlike the densely forested areas of the southwest, where one could easily get lost.

Chen Dao had been recuperating—a standard adult male with a constitution and strength of five, typical for his age, easily capable of dispatching a few zombies, so long as his neck wound didn't interfere.

Walking ahead, Demnia moved with a peaceful gait, flanked by Chen in the middle and a skittish Payton at the rear, who seemed to be sneaking around rather than following.

After turning a corner, they arrived on a north-to-south tarred road, spotting a junction that likely led to a small farmstead, which seemed to be the epicenter of surrounding agricultural land.

Chen followed Demnia's lead, noticing she was in a changed outfit, which made him realize his clothes were not the same as before—they had been replaced by Payton, presumably to rid him of the tattered and bloodied clothes he wore previously.

Wondering who had changed his attire, Chen glanced between Demnia and Payton, suspecting the latter.

His thoughts were interrupted when Demnia suddenly halted and crouched behind a tree at the forest's edge. After a silent exchange with Chen, she pointed ahead.

Looking in the direction of Demnia's gesture, Chen saw his car now accompanied by an array of supplies and, notably, no longer alone; a group of nineteen zombies had gathered at the water's edge, their intentions unclear.

Chen stood alongside Demnia, counting and identifying the makeup of the zombies—a mix of farmhands, children, a one-armed woman, and an attention-grabbing man in a suit impaled by a pitchfork.

All others faced the water, where another zombie trapped in a net struggled ceaselessly, causing a disturbance in the otherwise tranquil lake.

This clumsy, submerged zombie could well be the reason for the others' presence.

Chen Dao was baffled, not just by the pathogen behind the zombie epidemic but also by this new conundrum—how do zombies recognize one another?

Scent? Form? Voice? There had to be some criteria since zombies didn't eat each other. But as apparent, zombies weren't the sharpest of creatures; they couldn't distinguish whether a piece of flesh belonged to themselves or was torn from the living.

Chen had witnessed self-cannibalizing zombies, proving their almost non-existent self-awareness. Zombies often drew each other's attention. For example, when a runner bolted down a street, others followed suit, forming hordes upon reaching the runner without feasting upon it, a curious behavior indeed.

Responsive zombies within the horde acted on external stimuli, causing others to join, eventually creating a large and chaotic horde that moved wherever stimulated—be it noise or light—even into burning fires.

Such occurrences were also seen at Spartacus Restaurant; one thing for certain was that zombies had no fear of flames or lacked the cognizance to realize the danger.

Regardless, zombies never left a good impression. They were, after all, the formerly deceased and now reanimated. Whatever their type, their unpredictable nature and sometimes eerily lifelike motions made them particularly unnerving.

Chen Dao had seen zombies that could navigate stairs, never faltering nor tripping—an unusually human trait. Most stumbled their way up or tumbled down, but a few would ascend and descend with eerie accuracy.

Moreover, zombies seemed to fear water for reasons unknown. They watched a waterlogged zombie as if it was food but were reluctant to venture into the water.

They didn't even fear fire.

This was Chen Dao's first encounter with such a scene. In the game he played, water's features were indeterminate, serving as an impassable barrier for players and zombies alike, leaving fishing mechanics underdeveloped.

Chen still remembered a time in-game when he fished out socks and boots by the multitudes—a good hundred pairs! Such was the game's logic: your low fishing level meant mostly slow and unsuccessful attempts, mostly not yielding any fish.

He cautioned himself not to fish at low skill levels; better to watch some survival videos and level up your fishing skill first, rather than torture yourself.

The entangled zombie remained puzzlingly immobilized in the water, as if secured by some unseen force, struggling yet stationary, clutching at the distance that separated it from the shore.

Durable nylon nets defied the strength of human or zombie hands, leaving it hopelessly bound. Chen Dao watched with keen interest, sensing something quite off about this particularly decayed creature.

It showed an excessive level of decay—far more than any other zombies at this stage of the outbreak. Half its arm rotted away, its body and face swollen, it must have been submerged for quite some time.

Could this unfortunate victim have been alive when cast into the water? Was this some sort of crime scene? Perhaps someone had stuffed him into a fishing net, loaded it with heavy objects and dropped it into the lake, causing the victim to undergo zombification and then rise back up from the lakebed in a futile battle?

As Chen Dao fixed his gaze on this curious sight, he was suddenly interrupted by Demnia tapping his shoulder. He turned to see her pointing out Payton, who was afflicted with continuous retching at a distance, her normally impassive face now betraying a shade of pale distress.