The sky was a muted grey, the wind carrying the stench of burnt rubber and old blood. Yunfeng and the others had been walking for hours now, careful and silent.
The streets were quieter than expected—too quiet.
Even the groans of nearby zombies had faded into nothing more than occasional echoes in the far distance.
Grandpa Kailun shuffled slowly beside Yunfeng, his breath a little ragged, but his determination fierce. The soldiers flanked them cautiously, watching every alley, every broken window, every shadow that danced across the cracked pavement.
"Not long now," he whispered more to himself than anyone else. "We just have to make it to the barricade."
A soft buzz interrupted his thoughts.
The satellite phone in Kailun's bag vibrated sharply.
The old man fumbled for it and answered, pressing it against his ear. "Hello? Who—"
Before he could finish, Shinju's voice blasted from the other end, frantic and breathless.
"Something huge is coming your way—RUN!!"
