Puff… whoosh…
Rick fired the flare down into the street. A streak of red light arced through the air, hissing as it landed. In seconds, the burst of light and sound drew the attention of every nearby zombie.
Roar, roar, roar!
Like wild animals, the zombies went berserk, charging toward the flare with gnashing teeth and clawed hands. If it had been a human down there, they'd have been torn to shreds.
Glenn, still crouched on the ladder, stared in horror. His throat went dry, and his legs trembled so much he thought he might fall off.
Then Jason's voice came through the walkie-talkie.
"There's no time. Move now. If that flare wears off, they'll come for you instead—and we might not be able to save you."
Up on the rooftop, Jason watched Glenn with a mix of frustration and concern. The flare's distraction wouldn't last long. Worse, since it had drawn more zombies from surrounding areas, the crowd below had swelled even larger.
If Glenn hesitated much longer, he'd become the next target.
"I got it," Glenn muttered. Then, forcing himself forward, he gritted his teeth and leapt the last two meters to the ground—hitting the pavement with a grunt before bolting into the street, not even looking back.
"Now we wait," Jason said with a shrug as he watched Glenn disappear down the road. "Hope he finds a car before the flare dies out."
He'd only found one flare at the police station—just one shot at distracting the horde. That's why he couldn't use it earlier. It was now or never.
Glenn's heart pounded in his chest like a drum. His breathing was ragged, his eyes darting everywhere. Where's the car, where's the car, where's the—
Then he saw it.
A cherry-red sports car gleamed on the side of the road like a beacon. Glenn's eyes lit up. He was a fan of sports cars—how could he resist?
He sprinted toward it, yanked the door handle—locked.
"Damn it!" he hissed, searching the ground quickly. He grabbed a piece of broken concrete and smashed the driver's side window.
Beep-beep-beep!
The alarm screamed to life, echoing through the streets. The sound pierced the air, loud and sharp. Zombies, previously focused on the flare, slowly began to look up, their heads turning toward the car's direction.
But they weren't moving yet.
"Cover him. Just a little longer," Jason said, signaling to Morgan.
Morgan nodded and picked up a silenced rifle, methodically shooting any zombies that looked like they were about to change direction. It wasn't about killing them—it was about control. Delay them. Confuse them.
Then, in the distance, came the unmistakable roar of an engine.
VROOOM!
The red sports car came speeding down the street, Glenn behind the wheel, grinning like a madman.
He had never driven a sports car before, but right now, it made him feel invincible. Fear took a backseat. The thrill took over.
"Careful! Don't let them surround you. Loop around the supermarket—lead them away from us!" Jason's voice barked through the walkie-talkie.
The car swerved and accelerated, kicking up dust. Glenn had a huge lead. The zombies, slow and staggering, couldn't even come close to catching him.
Jason watched from above, finally allowing himself a breath of relief.
"It's our turn," he said calmly.
With the horde being lured away, he signaled Rick and Morgan. "Go. Bring the car around."
The two men nodded and disappeared down the stairs.
Back on the rooftop, Jason remained behind, eyes scanning the streets for any surprises. Andrea, Tzi, and the others waited quietly beside him.
Only one person wasn't at ease.
Moore stood a few steps back, a twisted grin forming on his face as he watched Jason from behind.
Something dark was brewing in his mind.