Apocalypse: King of Zombies - Chapter 404

Chapter 404: Run! Now!
Ethan narrowed his eyes, staring toward the sand dunes just outside the small town. He could sense a few human presences up there—Logan and his crew, huddled together, whispering about something, clearly scheming.

“Well, since I’m already here, might as well make myself useful,” Ethan muttered with a smirk. True to his opportunistic nature, he locked onto them as his next target. In the blink of an eye, his figure faded into the air like a shadow slipping away.

Up on the dune, Logan and his guys were lying flat on their stomachs, eyes glued to the town below.

The scorching sand beneath them was starting to burn through their clothes, making it hard to stay still.

“Logan, nothing’s happening,” one of the guys whispered.

“Yeah, why hasn’t he come out yet?” Logan frowned, clearly puzzled.

One of the lackeys scratched his head. “You think maybe he already got eaten by those Black-Skin Zombies?”

“Nah, I doubt it. There hasn’t been any sign of a fight in town,” Logan replied, trying to sound logical, though he didn’t sound too sure himself.

“Then where the hell did he go?”

They all looked at each other, unsure. They were tempted to go check it out, but none of them really had the guts.

“You guys looking for me?” a deep, smooth voice suddenly rumbled behind them.

Everyone jumped like they’d been electrocuted. They spun around fast.

Standing there in a crisp white shirt, eyes cold and unreadable, was Ethan—the very guy they’d been spying on.

“Wha—when the hell did he get here?” Logan’s eyes went wide with shock. The guy had just appeared out of nowhere, like a damn ghost.

The others were just as freaked out.

“Shit… this is some horror movie crap…”

Logan had been tailing Ethan all the way here, and now he’d been caught red-handed. He forced a stiff laugh, trying to play it cool. “I, uh… I was just checking in. You know, making sure you were okay.”

“Oh, well, thanks for the concern,” Ethan said flatly.

Logan’s smile twitched awkwardly. He waved it off quickly. “No big deal. We’re all friends here, right? Gotta look out for each other.”

Ethan tilted his head slightly, then asked out of nowhere, “You’re a speed-type Awakener, right?”

Logan blinked. “Yeah…?”

“So, you run fast?”

“Of course I do,” Logan said, puffing up a little. He had some pride in his abilities, but he couldn’t figure out why Ethan was suddenly asking.

Then Ethan said, deadpan, “Good. Then you’d better start running.”

“Huh? What?” Logan froze, completely confused.

Before he could process what was happening, Ethan flicked his wrist—and a splash of thick, black blood from a Black-Skin Zombie flew straight into Logan’s face.

“Ugh! Pfft! Puh—what the hell?!” Logan doubled over, gagging violently. The stench was overwhelming—like rotting corpses soaked in sewage. He nearly threw up everything he’d eaten in the past week.

“What the hell is this?! It reeks!”

“Logan, I swear, even a sewer rat dead for a week wouldn’t smell this bad,” one of his guys said, holding his nose and frantically waving the air.

The putrid stench of the Black-Skin Zombie blood quickly spread, carried by the wind straight into the town.

Almost instantly, the howls from within grew louder—more savage, more frenzied.

Something had been stirred.

Ethan, satisfied with the chaos he’d just triggered, casually added, “Oh, right. You should probably run toward Mosca Peak.”

“…???” Logan stood there, face dripping with black blood, completely dumbfounded.

What the hell did that mean?

Before he could ask, Ethan vanished—just like that. Gone without a trace.

The group stood frozen, totally lost.

“What the hell just happened?”

“He tells me to run to Mosca Peak, and I’m just supposed to do it?” Logan scoffed, trying to shake it off.

But before he could finish the thought, a chorus of guttural roars erupted from Albuquerque. The sound was getting closer—fast.

Then they saw them.

Black-Skin Zombies, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, pouring out of the town like a swarm of ants. They were sprinting on all fours, drawn by the scent of blood.

And they were coming straight for them.

Their limbs were long and wiry, but they moved with terrifying speed and precision. Their hollow, empty eye sockets locked onto their prey like predators from hell.

“Holy shit!” Logan’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him like a freight train. Panic surged through him.

“Run! Now!” someone shouted, and without a second thought, the group turned and bolted.

But the Black-Skin Zombies weren’t about to let them go. These things were relentless—once they locked onto a target, they didn’t stop until it was dead. They tore across the barren desert like a pack of rabid beasts, quickly forming a massive, black wave of death in hot pursuit.

Back in the city, the chaos hadn’t gone unnoticed. Mia and the others had already picked up on the disturbance.

“The Black-Skin Zombies have been stirred up,” Mia said, her voice tense.

“Yeah, Jenny, look at that. It’s insane,” Chris added, pointing toward the horizon.

Jenny’s eyes widened as she stared out. Her mouth formed a perfect O. It was the first time she’d seen a full-blown Black-Skin Zombie horde in action.

“This is terrifying! Seriously terrifying!”

But then something clicked in her mind. Something didn’t add up.

Who the hell are they chasing?

She squinted into the distance, trying to make out the figures sprinting across the endless desert. One of them—leading the pack—looked oddly familiar.

“Wait… is that Logan???”

“Huh? Damn, I think you’re right,” Thomas said, just as stunned. “What the hell is he doing out there?”

Chris, on the other hand, was secretly relieved.

Thank God he showed up. Otherwise, I’d probably be the one stuck luring those freaks away.

“Appreciate it, bro…” he muttered under his breath.

…

Meanwhile, Logan and his crew were in hell. The desert heat was brutal—pushing fifty degrees Celsius. The sun blazed overhead like a furnace, and the air felt like it was cooking their skin.

Logan’s lips were cracked and swollen, his tongue hanging out as he gasped for breath. “Haaah… haaah…”

“We’re screwed! We’re totally screwed!” he thought, panic clawing at his chest. “Those damn Black-Skin Zombies have locked onto us. What the hell do we do now?”

These things were like a swarm of pissed-off hornets—once they had your scent, they didn’t stop. The only way to shake them was to get out of their sensory range.

Problem was, they were fast. Logan might’ve had a slight edge in speed, but not by much. Outrunning them completely? That’d take a miracle—or a death wish.

His crew was freaking out too, but one of them noticed something odd.

“Hey, Logan… are we seriously heading toward Mosca Peak?”

“Where else do you want to go? Back to my dad’s place?” Logan snapped.

If they led this zombie horde back to Oasis, it’d be a bloodbath—worse than last night. The whole camp would be wiped out.

And then they’d really have nowhere left to go…

The others looked at him with newfound respect. “Logan, man… you’re a hero. You’re risking your life to lead the horde away from Oasis.”

“Cut the crap,” Logan muttered, eyes narrowing. “I’m picking up the pace.”

He was an A-rank Agility-type Awakener, after all—way faster than the rest of them. Time to put that to use.

As he kicked into high gear, his crew started to panic.

“Wait, Logan! Don’t ditch us!”

“Then keep up,” he shot back, already pulling ahead.

But just then, one of the guys noticed something… off.

“Hold up… I don’t think we got any of that zombie blood on us.”

“Yeah!” another chimed in. “We didn’t get splashed at all!”

“Huh???” Logan skidded to a stop, confused. He turned around and saw his crew veering off, putting distance between themselves and his path.

“Where the hell are you guys going?!”

“Back to Oasis—to get reinforcements for you!”

…