Dead Man Walking: Living By Day, Dead By Night

Chapter 76: Horde King



Shortly after arriving back at Elena's childhood home, a storm had broken out. It was a vicious and violent storm, the likes this specific region of the country had not seen in years, or perhaps even in decades. It was hard to tell if this was a natural occurrence, of if greater and mysterious forces were at work.

After all, such a storm was abnormal, and this city was not built to resist any form of significant flooding. With the world changing in so many ways, it was hard to tell what was happening and why.

But what was real was the fact that for the first time since Zane had been born, the streets outside of Elena's home, or any street in the city for that matter, had been well and completely flooded.

If a man were to step foot in said streets, the water would go well past their ankles. And for a city located in a desert like the one where Zane had grown up, this was a seriously troublesome matter in its own right.

The undead, however, seemed to be attracted to something, walking away from the suburbs, which Zane and the others had cleared just days before, as they drudged through the polluted water and deep towards the center of the city.

This storm, of course, was bad news for the Safe Zone, where many of its inhabitants stood with weapons in hand. Supplies were running low, ammunition and weapons were among them. Because of this, many of these foot soldiers who had been conscripted to maintain the second line of defense were wielding makeshift weapons.

Clubs fashioned from chair legs, pool cues, baseball bats, or even tire irons, and crowbars. Whatever blunt instruments these men and boys could get their hands on, they held in their trembling hands as they witnessed a horde of Undead the likes of which nobody had ever seen before, or at least nobody in this city. Standing beyond the border, watching and waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

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A flare shot up straight into the air in an attempt to penetrate the near total darkness. The only other form of illumination coming from bolts of lightning which violently ripped through the sky, which had been blacked by a miasma of storm clouds.

Every moment these men stood there, waiting for the fighting to begin, was a moment of fighting and trepidation. Unbeknownst to the survivors, a few blocks away, stood an individual surrounded by an army of the undead.

His figure was almost completely human, aside from its skin, which was cracked from decomposition. Yet not putrid in color or smell. This near human like individual gazed upon the enemy defenses that stood before him and his army with a wicked smile on his face.

The creature of unknown strength and origin stood there, on a pile of rubble, which had once been a thriving pet store, now brought to ruin by repeated and regular mortar fire. Yet the mortars had ceased, perhaps because the defenders had run out of shells to fire.

This was a sign, a sign that the enemy's defenses had been weakened, and that their supplies were running low. Soon would be the time to strike, yet the creature watched and waited silently with a mischievous smile on its face.

That is, until the right moment finally appeared. A lightning strike hit the barrier that existed between the dead and the living, blowing a large hole in its defenses. A gap now existed for the dead to walk in. And upon seeing this, the human-like creature raised its hand in the air, and spoke aloud its orders to those who followed them.

"Go forth and conquer…."

Immediately the entire army of the dead, as if commanded by a hive mind, began to rush forward towards the gap in the living's defenses. Like a tidal wave of animated corpses, they charged forward towards those frightened defenders who had been conscripted at gunpoint and sent to stem the tide.

Blood spilled into the flooded streets, staining them red, as dozens died upon initial contact, and then hundreds. All the while, the living made use of what few munitions they had left to open fire on their own line of defense in a desperate attempt to kill the undead who dared to breach through the gap.

And while the battle waged, the near human monster on the edge of the conflict gazed over towards one of its lieutenants, a creature that, until just a few days ago, had been largely absent from his ranks. This lieutenant communicated silently with its master, causing the near human creature to raise its brow, almost as if it was shocked by the words that had not been said.

"There is another? Here in this city? Impossible, I alone command this army! Which of those cretins would dare intrude upon my domain?"

Lightning flashed once more, revealing the figure of this lieutenant, which was none other than the Stalker that had followed Zane closely during the initial days of the apocalypse. It appeared uncertain, or perhaps even disloyal. As if it were questioning whether or not its current master was truly the King which it was supposed to serve.

But there was no place for disloyalty among this King's army of the dead, and the moment the stalker revealed its uncertainty in who to serve, the Horde King smiled and spoke aloud in a chilling tone, one that even terrified its undead servant despite the kind words that had been spoken.

"You are forgiven…"

Immediately after saying this, blood red crystalline spikes shot out of the ground and impaled the Stalker in multiple locations, including one that went through its skull, shattering the Tier IV Undead's blood crystal in a single moment of surprise. Killing it on the spot.

As if this terrifying scene had never occurred in the first place, the crystalline spikes retracted back beneath the surface of the earth, the only evidence of their mark being the bloodied holes within the Stalker's corpse that now oozed with coagulated blood.

Yet the Horde King was not satisfied with this result, and instead gazed in the direction where Zane's high school once lied. Almost as if its gaze could pierce through such a vast difference. It then shook its head and spoke to itself as it returned its sight back to the battlefield.

"A petty matter for another time…"


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