Code Zulu Alpha: Nerd in the Apocalypse!

We briefly discussed a few more things we needed to accomplish before our breakfast ended. Still, while we’d be clearing a few blocks of the dead East of the Freeport Zone to make our drive back easier and possibly getting us access to the techno-farm that had a hundred or so solar panels for the taking, Oscar will bring a group of people to deliver items of comfort over to the Marine Base.

At the same time, Bartow would lead a group to further clear the streets northward and northwesternward.

And as we used Basin Rd. to get to one of the bridges closed off, we were eventually given access to go over to the other side where an extension of the yacht club was present.

It was a straightaway of sorts that reached around 800 meters to the right and while most of the yachts were just floating by the small pier they have, some were still covered on these trailers parked on the driveway—where some weren’t even hooked on a land vehicle—but we took care of the dead around this area first so that the group that came with us could bring some of the boats here over to the yacht club in our side of the water.

Another group stood by to watch over them so we moved on to this block of large warehouses where a few trucks were parked on each one.

Across the street from it was a call center building and a bank which seemed to be unoccupied from the outside.

Quinn then turned to me, “Where’s this flour mill we’re looking for again?”

“It’s past that intersection. After that, it’s a little bit forward and then to the left. Following that road will lead us to the other side of the expressway we used yesterday.”

Jared chimed from the back, “What’s the plan though, bro?”

“Glad you asked…” I trailed as I pulled my radio.

–

*bzzt*

“Artem, bring your crew over to that intersection but turn left instead and it’ll be a 300-meter drive or so before you’d hook back to this place that sells surplus parts then you’ll get to where the flour mill.”

*bzzt*

–

*bzzt*

[Alright.]

*bzzt*

–

Then the cadets/trainees radioed in:

–

*bzzt*

[What about us?]

*bzzt*

–

*bzzt*

[Yeah, can we come with them?]

*bzzt*

–

*bzzt*

“I’m getting to that. JP you’ll be in charge of holding the intersection we’re about to go in while Marvin will be in charge of the smaller intersection Artem and his crew will pass through after that store I said. Conserve ammo as much as possible but don’t ever forget to double-tap even though it stopped moving. Artem and I will clear the flour mill from both sides.”

*bzzt*

–

Technically speaking, the flour mill was one of the two flour mills that exploded and they were in a block of other facilities that produced electronic appliances, coffee, shoes, and plastics. seaʀᴄh thё NôᴠeFire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

However, the noise from the explosion just gathered almost every deadhead in its immediate vicinity, and viewing the road from where we stood, the dead were gathered way~ more in that spot than the area we were in.

It was like that particular scene in this TV show where the MC got shocked to fuck after moving forward with his horse because he just left a street where a tumbleweed could pass and the next street was just fucking Zombieland.

But yeah, Artem and I timed our advance and went ballistic the moment I gave the signal. Because instead of going in quiet for taking down a horde of the undead covered in breading, we used our vehicles’ horns to split the dead and wake up some of them that were in deep slumber because there nothing would suck more than clearing hundreds of deadheads then getting bit on the ankle by a sleeper.

In any case, it only took a few seconds before we heard the quiet groans turning to loud grunts as the wet splotches of feet turned to these dull marching sounds of rotting flesh hitting the pavement, and several dozen deadhead just split off the main group and rushed for us.

“YOU FUCKS KNOW WHAT TO FUCKING DO!”

Except for Quinn who was in charge of my Raptor, everyone else raised their rifles—Tatiana using a new AK instead of her Benelli M4, of course—before we popped heads one after the other.

I barely opened up an assault using my rifle by taking down close to three dozen deadheads in one burst, but I easily ran through my mag before switching it with a fresh one.

It was when I felt the bolt lock to the rear so I quickly pressed the mag release—habitually closing off the dust cover—then took out the spent mag and pinched a fresh mag between my fingers, then jammed it in the mag well and pressed the bolt release after I replaced each mag’s spot within seconds.

I didn’t think I could still perform the movements seamlessly but I was already aiming at eye level before I let out a short exhale and watched these sprinters fall down the moment they got in contact with my sights.

But yeah, Kaley used to be in charge of the normal dregs while Jared would aim for the more dangerous ones but since I was helping them with Tatiana and Ibarra, they aimed for the ones crawling on all fours or exhibiting some pretty bizarre behavior.

And on that fucking note, I saw a huge Bartow-like deadhead with huge forearms barreling towards us like a gorilla using its arms to move. However, it only took a seconds before I realized that half of its body was already torn to shreds—leaving only a piece of its spine sticking out beneath its torso—but god fucking dammit its forearms were even bigger than Quinn’s thighs.

“TEN O’CLOCK!!!”

“ALREADY SEEN IT— FUCK! RELOAD!”

Right as it crossed the wall of dead sprinters on the ground by jumping(?) with its hands, a bullet made its way to its face and its elbow joint that made it stagger on its landing, but three more rifle rounds bored its way right on its exposed skull before it dropped on the ground.

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