Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 402: Day three of missing the boss...

Everyone looked a little surprised.

Chris jumped in, "Jenny, are you worried about me? Don't be—I'll be fine, seriously."

Jenny shook her head. "No, it's not that. You saved me and my daughter last night. I can't just sit back and do nothing while you're risking your lives today."

"Exactly," Thomas added. "We might not be strong, but we can help however we can."

Ethan gave a small nod. He didn't object.

More tools in the toolbox, the better...

"Alright then, let's move."

They stepped out of the building. Outside, people were still hard at work, rebuilding what was left of their homes. The damage from last night was clearly heavy.

But in the crowd, a young man with sausage-thick lips shot a glance at Ethan, eyes narrowing as he watched them head toward the edge of Oasis. He quickly nudged the guy next to him.

"Let's go. We're following them."

...

A short while later, Ethan and the group had left Oasis behind. Endless dunes stretched out before them, the wind howling through the air, kicking up clouds of dust.

The morning sun was brutal, beating down on them with a searing heat that made their skin sting.

Ethan could feel it—there was a group trailing them from behind. Human. Judging by the aura, it was Logan and his crew.

But Ethan didn't say anything. He let them follow—for now.

Chris brought up the rear, his eyes locked on Jenny's back. Her figure was graceful, curves in all the right places.

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"Jenny's not just beautiful—she's got a good heart. Grateful, loyal. She knows how dangerous Mosca Peak is, and she still came to help us."

Brandon glanced back. "Yeah... and what's that got to do with you?"

Chris looked offended. "What do you mean? Who else would it have to do with?"

Brandon deadpanned, "Black-Skin Zombies."

Chris scoffed. "No way!"

But then he paused, thinking it over. Jenny hadn't really shown any interest in him.

"Now that I think about it... she's always been kinda cold toward me."

Brandon snorted. "Well, duh. Her husband just died. She's still grieving. And you're already trying to flirt with her? Honestly, the fact she didn't stab you says a lot about her patience."

Chris blinked. "Oh... yeah, that makes sense." He nodded slowly, like a lightbulb had gone off. "She's still mourning. That's why she can't accept me yet."

Guess I'll have to find a way to help her move on from her husband's death...

They kept chatting as they walked, their footprints trailing behind them across the endless desert.

Along the way, they ran into a few monsters, but they were low-level—Thomas took care of them without breaking a sweat.

Eventually, after crossing a ridge, a ruined city came into view. Buildings lay in crumbled heaps, the whole place a picture of desolation.

The city was huge—its edges lost in the horizon. Here and there, dark shapes flickered across the broken structures.

"We're back..." Chris muttered, a strange mix of nostalgia and dread in his voice. Last time, they'd been chased out of here by Black-Skin Zombies, forced to flee for their lives.

Now, from deep within the city, the occasional guttural roar echoed through the ruins.

"Jenny, have you ever seen a Black-Skin Zombie before?" Chris asked, his tone casual but with a hint of anticipation.

Jenny shook her head. "No, I've only heard about them. People say there's a type of zombie in Albuquerque that's especially vicious."

Chris nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. "You'll see them soon enough. When they swarm out all at once... it's terrifying."

"Oh..." Jenny gave a small nod, her expression a mix of curiosity and unease.

"You guys stay here," Ethan said from the side, his voice calm but firm. "I'll go into the city alone."

That was the plan—get a sample of Black-Skin Zombie blood first, then lure them out. If too many people went in, it'd draw attention and increase the risk of something going wrong.

"Now that's what I call a good gig," Chris muttered, stretching out as the others agreed and settled down to rest.

Up ahead, Ethan walked alone toward the ruins of Albuquerque.

But on a sand dune not far off, a few figures lay flat on their stomachs, peeking over the edge, eyes locked on Ethan.

"Logan, why's he going into Albuquerque by himself?" one of them whispered.

"No idea," Logan replied, eyes narrowed. "Maybe he's feeding himself to the Black-Skin Zombies."

His lackey frowned, thinking it over. "Should we... follow him in?"

Logan turned to him with a look like he was talking to a toddler who just tried to eat sand. "Are you out of your damn mind?"

He didn't even hesitate. "We're not going anywhere near that place."

Albuquerque was crawling with Black-Skin Zombies. Their sense of smell was razor-sharp—they could sniff out a human from blocks away. And once they locked onto you, it was game over. They didn't stop until you were dead.

Logan had zero interest in becoming zombie chow.

...

Inside the city, Ethan activated his Domain of the Dead, cloaking himself completely. Not a trace of his presence leaked out.

A few Black-Skin Zombies passed nearby—thin-limbed, skin stretched tight over bones like dried leather—but they didn't notice a thing.

Ethan moved silently, scanning the area with his senses.

He still had some of his own people in Albuquerque. The ones he'd left behind. Jerky and Slick were the top dogs among them.

Hope they're still alive, Ethan thought. Would suck if they got eaten by those freaks.

There weren't many places in the city safe enough to hide. After a quick sweep, Ethan locked onto their energy signatures.

They were holed up in the basement of an old shopping mall. The space was huge—big enough to hold hundreds of zombies.

And that's exactly what was down there.

Jerky and Slick had been gathering every zombie they could find, trying to build a proper horde. Their goal? Reclaim dominance and rebuild the Zombie Horde.

But lately, morale had hit rock bottom.

"Day three of missing the boss..." Slick muttered, lying on his back, staring at the cracked ceiling.

"Don't worry," Jerky said, trying to sound upbeat. "We just gotta keep working. Gather more zombies. When he comes back, we'll surprise him."

Slick glanced around the room. "This is the surprise? We've got, what, four hundred zombies? Most of them are starving. A bunch are already halfway to turning into Black-Skin freaks."

"This isn't a surprise—it's a horror show. We're barely stronger than the bottom-feeders on the outskirts."

"We'll get there," Jerky insisted. "If only the desert didn't have all those mutated monsters, we could expand outward."

Just mentioning the desert beasts made them both shudder.

"Where the hell is the boss, anyway?" Slick muttered, worry creeping into his voice.

...