Wu Fan stared at the button on the system panel; he had been looking at it for quite a while.
"Switch Area Mode" — he had never noticed this option before. It was gray, translucent, and embedded at the very bottom of the panel, like a dust-covered glass bead.
It seemed to appear suddenly today, and, as if possessed, he clicked it.
The panel rippled like a water surface. After the ripples faded, a map emerged.
It was a full map of Georgia with two light spots marked on it.
The location of the CDC was a green light spot, slowly blinking.
To the south, about seventy or eighty miles away, there was another light spot.
It was gray, half-bright and half-dim, like a light bulb that hadn't been turned on yet.
Next to the light spot was a line of small text: West Georgia Correctional Facility Transit Station (Inactive).
Wu Fan's breathing stopped for a second.
He zoomed in on that area, and the lines on the map became clear.
The outline of the prison, the walls, the building complex, he could even see the layout of the cell blocks.
And on the west side of the prison, where there should have been a concrete wall, the map marked an entrance symbol — exactly the same as the Hive entrance at the CDC.
He clicked on that symbol.
A dialog box popped up: "Do you wish to spend 1000 points to unlock the West Georgia Correctional Facility Transit Station? After unlocking, it will connect to the Hive subway network, allowing for the transport of personnel and supplies. Note: This site is a Level 2 transit station and does not have independent Hive functions."
Wu Fan leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.
A subway.
The tracks under the Hive — he had always thought they were just something the system put there for show, an excuse to explain the source of supplies.
Now it seemed they were useful.
He exhaled a puff of smoke, watching it slowly dissipate in front of the screen.
In other words, he could take the subway directly from the CDC to the prison; he just needed to spend 1000 points to build a station.
He looked at other areas on the map again.
There were a few more gray light spots around Atlanta, and further away, there was one in Virginia, two in California, and one in Nevada.
Each one was labeled "Transit Station" or "Hive Branch," and the points required to unlock them ranged from one thousand to one hundred thousand.
Wu Fan closed the map and returned to the main panel.
Point balance: twelve thousand. He stared at the number, hesitated for three seconds, and then clicked "Confirm Construction."
[West Georgia Correctional Facility Transit Station is under construction... Construction complete. 1000 points consumed. Current remaining points: 11000. The Hive subway network has been expanded. New station added: West Georgia Correctional Facility (Level 2 Transit Station).]
On the west side of the prison, a brick wall that had been half-demolished by a grenade from a prison guard stood there, dusty and gray. Broken bricks were scattered everywhere, and steel bars poked out from the cross-section, covered in red rust.
In the night, the pile of rubble began to move.
An underground passage appeared at the collapsed wall, as if this passage had been accidentally discovered when the wall was knocked down.
Underneath the passage was a monorail freight transit station.
The whole process took less than a minute.
The outline of a door appeared — metallic, silver-gray, with a red and white umbrella-shaped logo embedded on it.
The door slid open silently, revealing steps leading downward.
At the end of the steps, the lights turned on.
The next morning, Wu Fan stood by the third-floor window, holding a cup of coffee.
Downstairs, a crowd had gathered in front of the notice board.
That notice had been posted by Amy last night, in black and white, clearly written: "Recruiting management personnel for the prison branch. Requirements: Must have management experience, be able to make independent decisions, be able to lead teams in combat. Those interested, please contact Amy."
Wu Fan watched the backs of those looking up at the notice and took a sip of coffee.
He needed someone to guard the prison.
Not someone like Merle, who only knew how to fight and kill, but someone who could manage things.
The prison was simpler than the CDC; there weren't as many researchers to protect, nor as many civilians to feed, but it was closer to Woodbury and closer to the Walkers still wandering outside.
The person in charge needed to be tough, but not too tough; they needed to be ruthless, but not kill indiscriminately.
He thought of several people, then crossed them off one by one. Finally, he decided — let those willing to go sign up themselves.
Lori stood in front of the notice board, looking up, reading those lines again and again.
She had just picked up Carl from school, and the child had already run off to find classmates to play with. She stood alone in front of this black-and-white notice for a long time.
Prison branch, management personnel.
Rick.
If Rick went to manage the prison, he wouldn't have to take teams out to clear out Walkers every day.
He wouldn't have to go rummaging through dangerous ruins, wouldn't have to confront others on the road, and she wouldn't have to worry every day when he went out whether he would be able to come back.
The prison had walls, doors, and a fixed base; it was much safer than running around outside.
She gripped the strap of Carl's schoolbag tightly, her knuckles turning white.
"Mom?"
Carl didn't know when he had run back, looking up at her: "What's wrong?"
Lori lowered her head, a smile appearing on her face.
"Nothing, let's go home."
She took Carl's hand and walked toward the family living area.
After walking a few steps, she turned back to look at the notice again.
Carol was standing on the other side of the notice board, but Lori didn't see her.
She stood there even longer, memorizing every word on the notice.
...
In the evening, Lori made Rick's favorite stew.
She had exchanged for a piece of frozen meat at the community supermarket and simmered it on low heat for two hours, until the meat was so tender it fell apart at the touch of a spoon.
Carl ate until his mouth was oily, and Rick ate two bowls.
Lori didn't really touch her cutlery.
"Rick..."
When she served his third bowl, her voice was very soft: "Let's go to the prison together!"
Rick's spoon paused.
"What?"
"The notice, I saw it. If you go manage the prison, you won't have to run outside every day."
Rick put down his bowl and looked at her.
Lori didn't avoid his gaze.
"When you're out running around, I can't sleep soundly every day. The prison has walls, doors, and a fixed place; it's safer than you being out there."
Carl, his mouth stuffed with meat, asked vaguely: "Where is Dad going?"
"Eat."
Lori put a piece of meat in his bowl.
Rick was silent for a long time.
He picked up his bowl and ate the third bowl of rice, eating very slowly.
"I'll go take a look."
He said.
Lori's eyes brightened for a moment.
Rick didn't look at her again and lowered his head to eat.
He didn't know if he would go, but he knew he couldn't refuse that look in her eyes.
When Carol returned to her little room, Sophia was already asleep.
She sat by the bed, looking at her daughter's sleeping face for a long time.
Then she stood up, walked to the chipped table, and rummaged through the drawer to find a crumpled piece of paper.
It was the application form she had filled out when she first arrived at the base.
She unfolded the paper, flattened it out, and looked at the line that said "Housewife."
Then she picked up a pen and added a few words after that line: Can fight.
She looked at these words for a long time.
Then she folded the paper and put it in her pocket.
Tomorrow, she would go see Amy.
No, she would go see Wu Fan.
She would put this paper in front of him and tell him that she could do more than just sew, cook, and plant vegetables.
She could learn to shoot.
She could do anything a man could do.
~~~~~~~
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