𝙵𝙻𝙴𝚂𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙾𝙽𝙴 | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 𐂃

Chapter 40

Despite Troy's push to make things right with Blake and stop ignoring him, Cristine wasn't going to focus on that right now. She was going to give herself time. Hell, she could barely look her father, the mastermind, properly in the eye. No. She was going to focus on teaching the new recruits as much as she could. Bulldozing their way through the re-animated corpses swarming towards them, the group of four cut a tactical pathway as they moved. The very air they fought through hung heavy, dry and noisy. Wanting to clear this is as fast as she could, most of Cristine's swings were on target the very first time, machete in her left and a free right hand to push back bodies if needed. The heat was so thick that sweating had become obsolete, it ran warmly into her clothes, only achieving further dehydration. She didn't shudder like she did at the start when the inhuman groans from their drying and stiffened flesh was in range. The reanimated swarmed toward anything that was different from their hivemind. The rotting smell that permeated the air everywhere, like the very oxygen they breathed was an unrefrigerated meat locker, the nausea constant and never adaptable. The groping hands and gnashing jaws of the infected were a true horror story. Now? Clearing the dead had become as much as a routine as waking up, sharpening your blade and loading a gun.

"Hey, how long was that?" Troy asked Blake, panting and wiped the light sheen coating his face away. He took the lead in cutting down the infected. For him, it was a blessing to put his lifelong taught skills to good use while still having fun. The thrill left him craving for more, but he had to stay focused.

"Two minutes." Blake announced, smirking at the achievement of actually dealing with a small horde in such a small amount of time with just four people.

"A new record huh." He muttered more to himself, pleased with the length of action it took and rolled his improvised weapon in a forward swing. "Ah, it's a wonderful thing." He sighed blissfully. This was his calling. His purpose in life and the thing that leveled out whatever stress or other dark urges he had. The best thing was that there were no real consequences for whatever he did now, not from his father, Jake or anyone. The atmosphere was strangely... pacific and the quartet sheathed their weapons and strolled back in the direction of the recruits. Half of them were in awe, while the others didn't show their expression or were as excited as their fearless leader. Troy briefly analyzed the crowd's demeanor and was more than happy with their reactions. "Now, who can tell me why we didn't just take 'em out guns blazing? It would be quicker and less of hassle."

"To save the bullets." One of the recruits answered.

"Not necessarily, we have enough bullets here to last us a lifetime. Anyone else?" Troy looked around and waited for someone else to blurt out anything really.

"Too much sound." Cole said and casually planted his hands inside his pockets. "Not enough sport too." He said jokingly.

Troy smiled and tipped his head down, "what else?"

"Noise attracts them and if we're outside scouting or doing runs, we can't risk attracting a larger group of dead or the living for that matter. This needs to be done quietly and I guess it'll help us to kill a real life infected up close."