Just over three miles from the Safe Zone, in a quiet residential district, a squad of soldiers was moving fast, sweeping through the area and clearing out the remaining zombies.
With enough firepower, the undead weren't so terrifying anymore.
Under a hail of bullets, they dropped in droves—mowed down like weeds under a combine.
As the soldiers pushed forward, they rescued survivors where they could and scoured supermarkets, convenience stores, and abandoned homes for supplies.
The Safe Zone's population was growing by the day, and with it, the demand for food, water, and medicine. The haul from the Walmart run hadn't lasted long.
So now, the soldiers had two jobs: rescue and resupply.
They'd just finished clearing out a supermarket and were about to start looting when it happened.
From every direction—alleys, rooftops, broken windows—tens of thousands of zombies surged toward them in a frenzied wave.
The soldiers froze for a split second, stunned.
