Chapter 122 Midnight Assault


    Kyle barely had time to react-he stepped out of the tent within three seconds of hearing Theresa’s call, and in the next instant, she grabbed his arm and hauled him into the car without a word.


    No sooner had the car doors mmed shut than a blood-curdling scream pierced the night. “Zombies! They’re here!”


    The peaceful camp was shattered in an instant. People who’d been resting shot up in rm, groggy hands fumbling for weapons as fear surged through the convoy. But it was already toote-the wave had


    arrived.


    Bang! A zombie flung itself at full force into the very tent Kyle had been in seconds ago. Realizing it had missed its mark, the creature let out a bone-chilling screech and hurled itself against the side of Theresa’s car with a sickening thud. Its ghastly face, pale as death and shriveled like dry leather, was smeared up against the ss.


    The withered lips pulled back in a grotesque grin, revealing teeth snapping uselessly at the ss as if the barrier didn’t exist.


    Rhhhhaaah! It was a squat, elderly zombie-its stature modest, but its presence grotesquely vivid. The tattered, blood-soaked garment it wore was barely clinging to its rotting frame, but it still vaguely resembled the ssic linen jacket often seen on old men strolling in city parks.


    Its skull gleamed under the faint light, while the surviving hair had been groomed with unsettling care- sculpted into a rounded fluff at the back like a manicured hedge in a courtyard garden.


    Despite the decay, traces of pride clung to this walking corpse. Its l?ne, oversized gold tooth caught the light like a trophy, shing with a garish gleam that only made its gaping maw more nightmarish. Screeech! The zombie’s golden incisor scraped against the window with a shrill metallic screech-so sharp and high- pitched it drilled straight into the nerves.


    In the blink of an eye, the window was drenched in oily ck gore, thick as tar. The zombie, now fully consumed by its madness, threw itself against the vehicle like a rabid animal. Gnashing jaws snapped inches from the ss, while gnarled hands battered the surface with violent desperation. The whole car shook under its assault.


    On the third savage m-bang! A single gunshot pierced the chaos. The bullet punched clean through the right side of the zombie’s skull. The impact jerked its head violently sideways, its neck snapping into a grotesque right angle before it crumpled to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.


    The sound of boots thundered nearby-a squad of Lucas’ soldiers charged into sight. With a quick scan of the vehicle’s interior and a swift signal exchanged, they immediately scattered into formation, moving with practiced precision to deal with the remaining zombies. Kyle instinctively reached for the door, ready to leap into the fray.


    Just then, Theresa calmly pressed a hand to his shoulder, her voice as steady as ever. “Hold it.” She reclined casually, picked a prime spot with a clear view of the action, then fished a packet of tidbits from her pocket. With a leisurely flick, she continued snacking with calm detachment. “They’re more than capable,” she added. He blinked, frozen by herplete confidence.


    The zombies poured in like a ck tide, unyielding and endless. Vehicles had closed ranks, forming a makeshift stronghold. Aside from Theresa and the personnel from Hope Camp, everyone else had leapt into action, rallying together to face the oing nightmare. Outside, the night ignited. mes red, blood sttered, and the battlefield turned into a grotesque painting of chaos and courage.


    Theresa’s sharp eyes scanned the perimeter. Among the four smaller camps, only two had ess to firearms-and even then, their arsenals wereughably sparse. Gun regtion had always been irond, and the apocalypse hadn’t changed that much. Even as civilization crumbled, firearms hadn’t flooded the streets. Ammunition was a luxury. Firearms were gold.


    The real muscle came from K1 Camp, where every soldier Lucas had brought was packing heat-high- caliber, military-grade. With rifles braced and eyes steeled, they formed the front line, unleashing volleys of fire like a wall of thunder. The smaller camps couldn’t match that firepower-but they didn’t hold back. They threw in everything they had, fighting tooth and nail to hold the line.


    Elemental-type ability users let loose in every direction-mes roared, torrents of water spun through the air, and globes of metal sliced through the undead like scythes in a wheat field. Meanwhile, strength- type ability users charged in like rampaging beasts, brandishing anything from machetes to baseball bats. Cold steel met rotting flesh in a brutal dance of close-quarterbat. Even the ordinary, powerless survivors didn’t stand idle. Tucked inside the safer inner lines, they clutched scavenged weapons and did their part-cover fire, distractions, whatever it took to keep the tide at bay. The sh raged, wild and furious.


    Through the chaos, Theresa’s eyes picked out a familiar face-Charlotte, the quiet girl from earlier in the day. She was shadowing her brother, a strength-type ability user. In his hands, a massive iron rake moved like a scythe of death, each sweeping arcunching clusters of zombies into the air like ragdolls.


    No sooner had his rake cleared a path than twin fireballs streaked in from behind, engulfing the airborne bodies in me. The source? Charlotte. Gone was her shy demeanor. Her cropped hair red red at the ends, glowing faintly like the embers of a dying star. Her expression was dark, concentrated, and full of quiet fury. One by one, zing orbs erupted in her palms, each one hurled in perfect sync with her brother’s brutal advance.


    However, as the battle wore on, the more her stamina buckled under the strain. Being only a Level 1 ability user, she could barely muster two fireballs at once-and each use left her more depleted than thest.


    Her skin, already darkened by smoke and grime, took on a ghostly pallor as her strength gave out, but the nightmare didn’t pause. The horde surged forward—unstoppable, unending.


    “Den!” she shouted, her voice cracking with disbelief. “Why are there so many of them?! There were barely any earlier today!”


    Den answered, panting between heavy swings of his rake, “They must’ve been lying low while the sun was up.” Nightfall always shifted the bnce-zombies were far more lethal after dark. Their senses sharpened, their movements quicker, their aggression magnified several times over.


    The stretch of road they were defending wasn’t just any random path-it led straight to the central provision depots. It also happened to be one of Branford’s major traffic veins! Even if they’d swept the area earlier, it was impossible to flush out every zombie lurking in the cracks, sewers, and copsed buildings!