"Check your weapons. You’re permitted to use ballistic weapons, but only under extreme circumstances. We don’t want their undead asses chasing us."
"Aye, aye, Lieutenant."
The rookies responded in unison. Still, Lieutenant Carr didn’t bother looking at them.
While the soldiers checked their gear, Carr lit his remaining cigarette to calm his rage.
I’m a lieutenant, not your errand boy, bitch.
His raven hair blew in the wind as he recalled the conversation he had with Michael’s second-in-command. Or as he called her, bitch.
He never liked Neha. Unlike others who wanted to establish themselves, she only knew how to mooch. So much so that she turned Michael into a lovesick fool.
Carr didn’t know how she did it, but that only fueled his dislike of her.
His dislike wasn’t a secret. Perhaps that’s why she was sending him out of the base. The message was clear. He would not be part of the zombie king assault.
Carr clicked his tongue in frustration. He wanted to steal whatever the bitch was after to prove her incompetence and open Michael’s eyes.
However, that wasn’t possible anymore.
"She’s one cunning woman, gotta give her that."
Since he couldn’t change Michael’s mind about it, the only thing he could do was to grab what was needed and sprint back to the base.
If only it were that easy.
Carr turned around and saw Alaric sitting there without any fear. Even the soldiers were worried about leaving the base’s safety, but not the old man.
It was understandable since the outbreak they survived through was much worse than the one inside the base. Still, Alaric had adjusted strangely quickly to the dreadful atmosphere.
"Protect Dr. Alaric at all costs."
Those had been Neha’s parting words.
Carr didn’t understand what was so special about that man. While other unawakened were relegated to manual labor, living in poor conditions, Alaric was treated better than most of the chosen even.
It naturally brewed resentment among both the unawakened and the chosen. Yet, Neha always shielded Alaric from all negativity.
Carr crushed the cigarette butt and leaned on the railing.
"Getting rid of him would be too easy," he murmured.
Maybe a zombie attacked him, or maybe someone misfired. There were countless excuses to explain Alaric’s death away. But none of it mattered.
If anything happened to Alaric, Carr’s life would effectively end as well.
"Errand boy, and a babysitter. That’s my life now."
Meanwhile, inside the research institute.
Voss covered his ears, but he could still feel the pounding on the door. There had to be a dozen zombies hammering away at the door.
Any other door would have given way by now. It was thanks to the director’s expensive taste in everything that the door was sturdier than others.
Even so, it wouldn’t hold for all eternity. Just like his fragile bravery. For someone who wanted to control the world, he was quick to revert to his scared persona.
Everything had been quiet at first. Then, for some reason, the zombies returned inside the facility. It didn’t take them long to find him, and things went downhill from there.
"Escape... I have to escape."
He frantically looked around the room for a way out. His eyes fell on the window first, but that was out of the question.
He was on the fifth floor. After jumping out, he’d die if luck on his side. If not, he’d have broken bones, which would make him a walking buffet for the zombies.
"Oh, lord, give me a way out..."
He looked up to plead and received the answer at once.
Voss had seen the undead do a lot of weird things, but he hadn’t seen them do one thing.
The vent was quite high off the ground. Voss would have to use the table to access it, but the undead might not think of it.
With a plan in mind, he acted on it.
Voss mustered all his strength and dragged the table under the duct. The scalpel and scissors came in handy to unscrew the metal grate.
The heavy grate came crashing down, making a loud noise. It agitated the zombies further, but Voss didn’t care.
He pushed his head inside and couldn’t see a thing other than the accumulated dust and dirt. It wasn’t a place he’d ever want to visit, but it was his only shot at survival.
However, instead of climbing in, he jumped back down. Since he was escaping, he wanted to take the tuna and beer with him.
Voss took off his shirt, made a bindle out of it, and shoved everything inside. He threw it inside and was about to climb in.
Just then, the door cracked. The hinges holding it in place snapped apart.
Voss looked behind as the door was torn apart. The barrier wouldn’t hold for long either. Thankfully, it was already too late.
He climbed inside and didn’t look back.
The vent was small, but he was smaller. All thanks to not eating any fat or carbs for days.
The clattering sound of the beer cans attracted the undead. However, they only looked up into the hole as the sound faded away.
At the same time, somewhere underground.
Blaze’s eyes snapped open. His undead eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, and he saw Fester curled up beside him.
Other than Fester, countless screens greeted him. Some congratulated him on his evolution, and some informed him of his status upgrade. But Blaze wasn’t interested in them.
His existing function and traits had evolved. The horde limit had increased to fifteen, new installations were unlocked for his lair, and he also unlocked two new mutation slots.
I’m yet to use the second slot, but sure, give me more.
However, the most significant upgrade came from the Memory-Echo skill. It had evolved alongside Blaze, turning into a new skill called Mind Plague.
A skill that gave him a new method of infection. Something to infect people’s minds, not their bodies.
The more he read about it, the more he wanted to test it. Thankfully, he had both the motive and the test subject to try it on.