Chapter 46: Zombie Wave (8)
Charles turned to them. He pulled out his own pistol and held it out. "Here. Take it and get on the wall."
A heavy silence fell over the group. No one stepped forward to take the weapon. They wanted to be armed, but none of them were brave enough to face the danger head-on. Charles shook his head in disgust, pocketed the pistol, and climbed the wall himself, rifle in hand.
Zack had left behind small-caliber rifles and submachine guns during his last supply run. While these weapons were far from ideal, they were all the defenders had to hold the line against the zombie horde.
"Steady your aim!" Charles barked as he fired round after round, each shot finding its mark. Despite his age, his precision was remarkable, with every bullet striking a zombie's head.
"When I was a soldier, if I missed a shot from this range, my squad leader would've had my hide," he muttered to himself, his voice carrying a mix of pride and grit. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, dragging memories of his military days to the surface. But there was no time to dwell on the past. The zombies kept coming, and the worst was yet to arrive.
The next wave surged forward, a dark, seething mass of the undead that stretched as far as the eye could see. Even the most seasoned defenders froze at the sight, their hands trembling as they reloaded.
"It's over... we're done for!" someone shouted, their voice cracking with despair.
Charles clenched his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest. "Don't panic!" he called out, though the strain in his voice betrayed his own fear. He stared out at the approaching swarm, realizing just how badly he had underestimated the scale of this attack. This was unlike anything he'd seen before. Hundreds of thousands of zombies surged toward them, unstoppable—and this was just the beginning. The real horde, millions strong, was still out there, bearing down on the city.
A terrified scream snapped him back to reality. "Charles! Help me!"