The Steam Age: Gears and Bones

Chapter 16

As they approached the intersection of Customs Avenue, a sound suddenly came from the south side of the port.

The sound of bells.

Deep, resonant, with the penetrating power unique to bronze bells.

One, two, three—not the rhythm of any clock tower, but a chaotic, erratic sound as people frantically tug at the clock's rope.

The flag captain suddenly turned around and made a gesture: take cover.

The eight knights instantly pressed themselves against the warehouse wall, all drawing their weapons at the same time without making a sound.

Then they heard it.

It was the sound of countless feet simultaneously treading on the snow and broken bricks, pouring out from every street and every gap in the buildings of the port, as if the entire city had been awakened by the sound of bells in that instant.

The flag captain glanced out from the corner of the warehouse where he was hiding.

He saw the infected person.

Not dozens, but hundreds.

They emerged from every shadow of the ruins.

A group of people emerged from the old customs building at the edge of the dock, another group crawled out of the half-collapsed cargo warehouse, several others emerged from behind the wreckage of a tram that had overturned on the street corner, and more than a dozen people stumbled out of the already burned-out shops on both sides of the street.

They appeared almost simultaneously, stumbling and tumbling over the rubble, squeezing through the narrow alleyway, and bursting out directly from the already shattered windows.

Some of the infected individuals had clearly missing limbs—missing half an arm, or dragging a broken leg and crawling on their knees on the gravel ground—but their speed was not slowed down by these disabilities in the slightest.

Every zombie was pointing in the same direction: the clock tower on the south side of the harbor.

The flag captain turned his gaze back from the street corner.

The bells are still ringing.

The man was still desperately pulling on the bell rope; he might have gone mad, or he might have been driven to the brink of despair.

But whichever the possibility, he created a window.

All the infected people have been drawn to the clock tower side, and this side of the dock is temporarily empty.

The flag captain quickly gestured to the sailor behind him, who raised two signal flags and waved them rapidly in the direction of the cruiser.

The location of the clock tower, the number of infected people around the clock tower, the people on the clock tower, and their cries for help and requests for instructions.

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When Perfit received the signal on the bridge, she had already seen through her binoculars what was happening on the clock tower on the south side of the harbor.

There were figures moving around in the top window of the clock tower, about four or five people, one of whom was frantically pulling on the bell rope.

The windows had no glass, and the roof of the clock tower appeared to have been burned, but the main structure was still relatively intact.

"There are people in the clock tower, they're ringing the bell for help," she said quickly, putting down her binoculars. "But the bells have drawn all the infected people in the harbor to them. Now the area around the clock tower is full of infected people."

Ludwig held up his binoculars and observed the streets around the clock tower.

His expression was calm, but Perfit noticed that the knuckles of his fingers holding the binoculars were turning white.

"The infected aren't carrying siege weapons; they're just climbing up the clock tower from the base. If they can hold the stairwell, they can probably hold out until the infected have piled up high enough." He lowered his binoculars and looked at Perfit. "The infected are fast. We don't have much time left."

Perfit did not answer immediately.

She switched the binoculars to her left hand, tapped her right fingertips quickly on the ship's railing, and then turned to look at the captain.

"If we bombard the port, could we draw those things away?"

The captain answered almost without hesitation: “Yes. The sound of cannon fire is more intense than the tolling of bells. As long as we fire the shells to the other side of the harbor, they will be drawn to the new sound source. But the cannon fire will expose that we are outside the harbor—the whole city will hear the cannon fire.”

"There's no need to worry about the whole city. The bells just now were enough to wake it up." Perfit quickly dismissed the captain's concerns. "The survivors in the clock tower won't last long enough for the infected to be attracted to something else next time."

The problem now isn't concealment, it's time. As long as we can buy enough time for the survivors to leave the clock tower, being exposed doesn't matter.

The target was the abandoned shipyard on the other side of the harbor. Would the shelling be enough to draw the infected away?

"It should be fine, I'll have someone prepare." The captain mentally estimated the trajectory, then shouted towards the bridge, and the messenger immediately ran to the gun position.

The port gunner was stunned for a moment after hearing the order, probably because he didn't expect that the main gun would actually be used on this mission.

But he did not hesitate and quickly calibrated the ruler.

The sailors at the gun emplacement gave the order, and the loader loaded the shells into the breech.

Perfit turned to the signalman: "Tell the reconnaissance squad—after the shelling is over, while the infected are being lured away, immediately move toward the clock tower and rescue the survivors on it."

Tell them to tell the people in the bell tower to stop ringing the bell. Be quick and speak softly.

The flag signalers began waving their flags.

Perfiter raised the telescope again and aimed it at the clock tower.

She could now see that there was more than one figure moving in the clock tower window; there were at least four or five people.

When the reconnaissance squad's flag leader signaled at the corner of the warehouse, the people on the clock tower clearly saw it.

The figure holding the bell paused for about two breaths before letting go.

The bells stopped ringing.

The port suddenly fell into a deathly silence.

Those infected who were initially drawn by the bells lost their way. Although they were still rushing toward the bell tower, it seemed to be a kind of inertia rather than being attracted.

Perfitter lowered his binoculars on the bridge: "Now, fire."

Then, the cannons roared.

The first shell was fired from the cruiser's port gun emplacement, slamming into the outer wall of the abandoned dock on the other side of the harbor with a sharp whooshing sound.

The explosion sent up a cloud of debris and dust, and the shockwave spread along the ground, shattering all the remaining glass in several nearby buildings.

Immediately afterwards, the second shot slammed into the dock, tearing off a large section of the wooden roof and producing an even more muffled roar than the first.

The third shot landed on the open ground next to the dock, blasting an abandoned cargo wagon to pieces. The wheels flew off, crashed into the warehouse wall next to it, bounced off the ground, rolled several times, and finally fell over.

The sound of the explosion echoed repeatedly among the port ruins, drowning out all other sounds.

Through his binoculars, Perfitt saw that all the infected people around the clock tower had stopped.

They simultaneously turned towards the direction of the artillery fire, their movements so synchronized it sent chills down one's spine.

After a brief pause, a large group of infected people began to move toward the dock, with some lagging behind turning around awkwardly, tumbling over the rubble, and squeezing into the street.

The density of infected individuals under the clock tower is rapidly decreasing—from a dense mass to a few scattered individuals, and finally only a few individuals with missing limbs and slow crawling speed remain wandering at the bottom of the clock tower.

Through his binoculars, Perfitt saw the reconnaissance team emerge from the base of the warehouse wall and rapidly approach the clock tower, hugging the building's shadow.

The flag captain paused for a few seconds at the entrance of the clock tower, presumably communicating with the people inside, before leading the team inside.

She put down the binoculars and found that her palms were sweaty.

Cherzov remained standing beside her. The two exchanged a glance, neither speaking, before turning their attention back to the port.

Now, all we can do is wait for the reconnaissance team to bring the person out alive from the clock tower.