The morning was heavy with haze when Cole spotted movement up ahead — a makeshift military checkpoint, half-hidden behind a row of sandbags and rusting Humvees. ''Play it cool," he muttered as they rolled up. Emily kept Sophie close while two soldiers in dusty uniforms approached, rifles low but ready. One checked the truck while the other waved Cole toward a side tent for "screening." Emily didn't like being separated, but before she could protest, a loud voice came from inside the tent — one soldier talking to another. "…Orders just came through from Command. Operation Clean Sweep starts at 1800. Full saturation napalm strike." Another voice, quieter, replied, "But there's still civilians south of here." A sharp, cold answer: "Not our problem. This stays between us."
Emily's stomach knotted. She pulled Sophie behind one of the Humvees before anyone saw her eavesdropping. Cole emerged a minute later, looking annoyed. "We're leaving," she whispered urgently, tugging his sleeve. He frowned. "What—"
"They're gonna burn everything. Tonight. All of it." Cole's eyes widened, but before they could even reach the truck, the checkpoint erupted in noise — gunfire from somewhere down the road, followed by the low, guttural moan of a herd. Walkers poured out from the treeline, drawn by the checkpoint commotion. Soldiers shouted orders, some opening fire, others scrambling for cover. Cole swore. "Road's blocked. We'll have to push through on foot. But with the herd surging toward them and bullets flying overhead, Emily remembered what she'd heard once — the dead ignore their own. She pointed to a freshly killed walker sprawled near the sandbags. "We cover ourselves. Blend in." It was foul work — ripping open the bloated corpse, smearing themselves head to toe with its black, stinking gore. Sophie gagged, but Emily held her face and whispered, "Stay quiet. No matter what. Don't let go of me Then they stepped into the moving wall of rot. The herd swallowed them instantly. Walkers brushed past, moaning, unseeing. Above, soldiers still fired in short, panicked bursts, the crack of rifles echoing over the chaos. Bullets tore into the front ranks of the dead, some dropping inches away, the rest lurching forward unfazed. Somewhere behind them, a voice barked through a radio: > "All teams clear the zone! Airstrike inbound!"