Chapter 45: Chapter 45 - Zombie Wave (7)

"Sir, the horde appears to be splitting. A large portion has diverted toward NYC," the AI reported.

Zack turned his attention to his satellite feed. Among the swarm, he spotted a peculiar figure—a zombie that looked almost human. Its pale, sunken eyes glimmered with unsettling intelligence. It raised its head and let out a piercing roar, its frequency beyond human hearing.

Within seconds, the horde shifted. Half the zombies veered off, swarming around the construction site and heading straight for NYC. The satellite view showed the split clearly—like a river parting around an obstacle.

"Since when do zombies act tactical?" Zack muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Someone—or something—is giving orders."

"Ego, what do you think?" Zack pressed.

"Just before the horde changed direction, I detected a faint high-frequency sound wave," Ego explained. "It seemed to trigger their behavior."

"A signal?" Zack’s mind raced. "Can you trace where it came from?"

"Unfortunately, it was too weak to pinpoint, but it originated about ten kilometers away, near the rear of the horde."

That was the same area where Antonny’s team had been bombing earlier. Zack’s jaw tightened as a grim realization set in. If there was something commanding the zombies, it had to be dealt with—and fast.

"Ego, scan the horde. Map out any mutated zombies. I need a full report," Zack ordered.

"Understood, Sir. Also, the transport plane has arrived with fresh ammunition," Ego added.

High above, the LSI satellite adjusted its lens, scanning the horde and tagging mutated zombies with red markers. Meanwhile, a transport helicopter approached, loaded with supplies—a much-needed lifeline. But Zack’s attention shifted to the skyline, where he spotted Hunters scaling skyscrapers, heading for the incoming helicopter.

"Hang tight!" Zack called to Erza before blasting into the air. His Vulcan gun roared, its rapid fire shattering glass and tearing into the creatures, sending them plummeting to the ground.

Suddenly, a fighter jet screamed into view, slicing through the air with lethal precision. The young pilot, Ava, gripped the controls tightly, her expression hard as she lined up the Hunters in her sights.

"For Cole!" Ava’s voice crackled over the comms. She pulled the trigger, and the jet’s cannons thundered. Bullets shredded the Hunters, their remains falling like crimson rain.

"Who’s the hotshot?" Zack asked, impressed.

"Ava, 21. Air Force Academy trainee. First live combat mission," Ego informed.

"A trainee? She’s flying like a pro," Zack muttered.

Ava finished a sharp vertical dive, her eyes cold and focused. Her voice came through the comms again, calm and steady. "Unknown aircraft, this is Ava. Captain Antonny sent me to help. I’ve got four air bombs on board. Let me know if you need them."

Zack nodded, replying, “Good to have you with us, Ava.” His sharp eyes scanned the nearby Hunters, some still lurking dangerously close. His Vulcan gun roared to life again, firing in precise, controlled sweeps, each shot cutting down the remaining creatures like they were falling rain.

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Once the area was secured, the transport helicopter, piloted remotely by Ego, began its descent, loaded with vital supplies.

“We’ll catch up soon!” Antonny’s voice crackled through Zack’s earpiece. On the horizon, the shadowy shapes of three bombers emerged, moving steadily toward the battlefield.

"You saw how the zombie horde split into two waves, right?" Zack asked over the radio as he started heading toward the construction site.

Antonny’s response came quickly. “Yeah, I saw it. Half of them veered off and are already making their way into the city.”

By the time Antonny finished speaking, Zack had landed and stepped into the helicopter’s cargo hold. He moved swiftly, detaching the bomb compartment on his suit and replacing it with two hydrogen fuel cells for his wrist-mounted laser launcher. Nearby, his mechanical dogs and weaponized spiders were busy reloading, grabbing fresh supplies of ammunition and poison canisters.

“If you want to help, chase them down and blow them apart!” Zack barked through the comms, his tone leaving no room for debate. “Don’t let them reach the city—there are survivors there!”

Without waiting for a reply, Zack launched back into the air, heading toward the rear of the massive zombie horde. Behind his visor, his eyes narrowed as Ego, his AI assistant, marked the zombies’ positions on a real-time map.

The map filled rapidly with red dots. Each small dot represented mutated zombies like Hunters or Bloaters, while larger ones marked the towering Juggernauts. The sheer number of mutants was staggering, forming dense clusters throughout the horde. But Zack’s focus sharpened when he noticed something unusual—a particularly concentrated group of both regular and mutant zombies, their numbers rivaling even the densest parts of the swarm.

“Found you,” Zack muttered, locking onto the target and accelerating toward it.

Meanwhile, the splinter group from the main horde pressed on, advancing rapidly toward the industrial district where the steel mill stood. Though their numbers were smaller—about 700,000—they were still a formidable force, enough to overrun the mill if left unchecked.

The first line of defense was Zack’s mechanical dogs. One stationed on a newly built watchtower outside the mill activated as the zombies approached. Its glowing blue eyes turned an ominous red, and the heavy machine gun mounted on its back rose into position while its missile launcher prepared to fire. The moment the zombies came into range, it unleashed a relentless barrage.

Inside the steel mill, the tension was palpable. Charles, the plant manager, stared at a glass of water on his desk, watching its surface ripple with each distant rumble. He didn’t need to look outside to know what was coming.

“A zombie wave?” someone muttered nervously, their face pale.

“What do we do, Charles?” another asked, their voice trembling with panic.

“Run, Charles!” shouted one of the newer workers—a young man, one of over thirty recent transfers from the prison. The fear in his voice was contagious, and a few others edged toward the exits, ready to flee.

“Calm down!” Charles’s commanding voice cut through the rising chaos. Despite his seventy years, his presence carried a weight that steadied the room. “Sir Zack is on his way. We just need to hold the line until he gets here.”

His words brought a flicker of confidence, especially among the long-time steel mill workers who trusted Zack. Nodding in unison, they took their positions, preparing for the fight ahead. Meanwhile, Zack’s transport helicopter, fully stocked with ammunition, lifted off from the construction site and sped toward the mill.

Outside, the mechanical dog on the watchtower let out a mechanical whir before its gun erupted in a thunderous rhythm, mowing down the first wave of zombies.

“They’re here!” Charles yelled. “Get your weapons and defend the walls!”

The mill’s defenses, built under Zack’s guidance, were solid. The walls had been reinforced with thick steel and pig iron, and platforms allowed defenders to fire from above. Traps lined the perimeter, ready to spring at just the right moment.

Veteran workers scrambled to the walls, rifles in hand, their movements quick and efficient. These were survivors—factory workers and their families who had faced zombie waves before. But the newcomers, most of them young and inexperienced, were restless.

“Where are our guns?” one of them shouted, frustration and fear blending in his voice.

“Yeah, why do they get all the weapons?” another added, clearly panicking.