Zombie Wave (3)

The creature let out a shrill, ear-piercing screech, thrashing wildly as flames devoured its body. The sickening smell of burning flesh filled the air. Its agonized cries grew weaker until they were swallowed by silence, leaving only a pile of ash where the monster once stood.

Erza stood trembling, her whole body shaking as she sustained the inferno. Sweat streamed down her face, and an unbearable, stabbing pain pulsed in her head, like needles driving into her skull. Her vision blurred, her body screaming for rest, begging her to stop.

"No… not yet," she whispered hoarsely, her teeth clenched so hard she tasted blood. She couldn't afford to collapse now. Not here, not like this.

The fire roared on as she incinerated the last of the Night Stalkers. Finally, her strength gave out. She dropped to her knees, gasping for air, her body on the verge of shutting down. But before she could catch her breath, the ground began to tremble under heavy, pounding footsteps. A deep, ominous rumbling grew louder, closer. Forcing her head up, she squinted at the horizon, her heart sinking at the sight.

In the distance, an enormous wave of zombies surged forward, a black mass of unrelenting horror moving as one, like a living nightmare bearing down on her. She let out a shaky breath, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "I'm sorry… I couldn't protect you all," she murmured, her voice soft with regret. Closing her eyes, she braced herself for the end.

Then—BOOM!

A deafening explosion shattered the air, followed by a thunderous sonic boom from another direction. The ground beneath her quaked violently as shockwaves tore through the area.

Ten Minutes Earlier, High Above

Five bombers flew in tight formation over the ruins of New York City, accompanied by the roar of two fighter jets flanking them. Each jet left a loud sonic boom in its wake, slicing through the clouded sky. 

In one of the jets, Captain Antonny, a grizzled man wearing a worn military uniform, carefully monitored his instruments. He was the same man who had recently fought against deploying nuclear weapons at the Imperial Capital Base.

"Cole, we're approaching the target zone. Prep for bombing. Over," his voice crackled through the radio, steady and focused.

Inside one of the bombers, a young pilot named Cole stared at a blank screen, panic rising in his chest. "Captain, we've lost satellite guidance! The targeting systems are down. Over."

"What?!" Antonny's brow furrowed as he checked his own instruments. His screen was also dead. A sinking feeling churned in his stomach. "Damn it. Those idiots back at base must've cut off satellite access," he muttered under his breath.

Without satellite navigation, their guided bombs were practically useless. Precision targeting in a city swarming with zombies was now impossible. 

"Can't we just go lower?" a voice broke in—a younger pilot, Ava, fresh out of training. She'd only recently flown her first real combat mission.

Antonny sighed heavily. "We'll have to. Cole, take the bombers down to visual range for a manual drop. Ava, stay at your current altitude."

"But why—" Ava began to protest.

"Follow orders! You're too inexperienced for low-altitude maneuvers. You'd be an easy target," Antonny snapped, his tone firm but not unkind. Ava grumbled but obeyed, and Antonny pushed his jet into a sharp descent.

The sonic boom from his jet cracked through the clouds as he dropped lower, maneuvering carefully through the jagged skyline of the city. Below him, the streets writhed with the movement of millions of undead—a massive horde stretching as far as the eye could see.

"Captain," Cole's voice came through the radio, strained, "there's at least double the number we saw last time."

Antonny's jaw tightened. "Over five million… Do we even have enough bombs?"

Silence filled the channel before he answered his own question with grim determination. "If we run out, we'll use every bullet we've got. We can't let this city fall."

Lowering his altitude even further, Antonny flew dangerously close to the tops of crumbling skyscrapers, lining up his targets. Just as he steadied his aim, a sudden, earth-shaking BOOM! echoed nearby. His head snapped around, eyes scanning the horizon.

"A supersonic aircraft?" Antonny muttered, instincts flaring. But before he could investigate, another call came through his headset.

"Captain, we've got a survivor—critical condition. Should we assist?"

"Absolutely! Where?" Antonny barked.

"Three o'clock."

He veered sharply toward the coordinates, spotting a lone figure on the street below. A red-haired woman stood amidst the chaos, flames swirling around her as she held the horde at bay. His eyes widened. 

"A Pyrokinetic?" he murmured in amazement. Their base had a few, but none with power like this. She was something else—someone worth saving. 

He nosed his jet down, lining up the 30mm cannon to clear the zombies near her. Just as he hovered over the trigger, something blurred past his cockpit, jolting his plane. "What the hell?" He fought for control, scanning the area. 

An armored figure streaked toward the ground like a missile, its metallic sheen gleaming in the sunlight. 

---

Zack plummeted past the jet, briefly catching sight of it. "Ego, who was that?" he asked, his voice calm but curious.

"Captain Antonny of the U.S. Air Force. He's one of the leaders at a major survivor base," Ego replied.

Zack raised an eyebrow. "The Air Force? All the way out here? Impressive." A flicker of respect crossed his face. "Guess we'll take all the help we can get."

He dived faster, the wind screaming around him as he shattered windows on his descent. He hit the ground with a thunderous crash, leaving a massive crater in his wake. Dust and debris exploded outward, shrouding him momentarily.

Erza, barely standing, stared up at the armored figure in disbelief. She recognized him instantly. "It's… you," she whispered, her voice trembling from exhaustion.

Zack didn't acknowledge her, his attention locked on the approaching horde. He raised his F2000 assault rifle and opened fire. Each shot found its mark, zombies collapsing one by one. A hum erupted as the Vulcan machine gun on his shoulder roared to life, cutting through the swarm with relentless precision.

"Get your people back to the construction site if you want to live!" Zack shouted without looking back, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Erza nodded weakly, turning to gather what was left of her group. But as she scanned the street, her heart sank. The bodies of her fallen comrades lay scattered, people she'd fought beside only hours ago. Of the hundred who had left with her, fewer than half remained.

Pushing her grief aside, she shouted, "Everyone, follow me! Head back to the base!" Her voice wavered but held firm, driven by sheer will to survive.