Apocalypse: King of Zombies

He hadn't even gotten around to asking her to act as bait yet, and she'd already come to borrow something from him.

Still, considering she'd helped track down the Star Map tablet, he figured he could lend it to her. Besides, if humanity really was about to migrate en masse, bait probably wouldn't be in short supply for long...

As for the Genesis Biotech aircraft—Ethan still had several of them. Even if he used them all up, he could always go back and grab more. They weren't exactly rare.

"Alright," he said. "I'll lend it to you."

...

That afternoon, Mia came by to pick up the aircraft. She gave him a quick thanks, then stepped through the hatch and zipped off without another word.

Aside from that little detour, nothing else happened.

The territory settled back into calm.

The human migration didn't really affect Ethan's domain. The nearby cities had already fallen—refuge shelters overrun, even the Genesis Biotech outposts wiped off the map. The whole area had basically turned into a no-man's-land.

And since Los Angeles sat right on the coast, the migration routes from other cities didn't even pass through his area...

But Ethan didn't see that as a good thing. In his mind, if there was no benefit to be had, then it was a loss.

San Diego, on the other hand, was a different story. It sat just south of L.A., right on one of the main routes from Mexico into California. That made it a critical chokepoint. A lot of people from Central American and Mexican shelters would be passing through the outskirts of San Diego.

And those outskirts? They were crawling with Zombie Cultivation Grounds.

By now, the place was probably a bloodbath.

The past few days, none of the Zombie Kings from San Diego had come looking for revenge. Ethan figured they were too busy hunting humans to bother.

He could only imagine the kind of despair people must be feeling, getting ambushed by those freakish Zombie King tactics.

Ethan knew it was time to act. He couldn't just sit back and let San Diego turn into a slaughterhouse.

"I'm going to save those lost souls," he muttered.

...

Late at night.

Thick clouds smothered the moon. A cold wind howled through the ruins of the city, echoing like the cries of wolves and ghosts.

Ethan left his territory once again, heading toward San Diego. His silhouette grew smaller and smaller, eventually swallowed by the night.

Dark skies and high winds—perfect weather for killing. This night was destined to be anything but ordinary.

Moments later—

Ethan reached the outskirts of San Diego again. The area was nothing but wild, overgrown fields. Shadows of trees loomed everywhere, their branches swaying in the wind like demons beckoning him closer.

At night, most humans stayed hidden, too afraid to move. But for zombies and mutated creatures, this was prime hunting time.

From the darkness came the constant snarls and roars of the undead. Some were even sprinting, chasing after mutated beasts.

Of course, some of those beasts were feasting on zombies in return.

Scenes of carnage were everywhere.

Ethan chose to move at night for a reason—he was targeting the Zombie Kings of San Diego. They'd be most active now, probably lurking in some dark corner, hunting down any humans trying to pass through.

With no specific target yet, Ethan began sweeping the area, carefully sensing every trace of movement around him.

Then—

Amid the chorus of zombie snarls, he caught something strange: the faint sound of barking.

"Huh?"

He raised an eyebrow. That was rare. You hardly ever heard dogs anymore in this post-apocalyptic hellscape. It reminded him of something Big Ears had said once—about getting chased by a dog...

Curious, Ethan activated his stealth ability and vanished into the shadows, heading straight for the source of the barking.

As he closed in on the scent trail, he spotted them—more than a dozen zombies, moving in a bizarre way. They were down on all fours, faces pressed to the ground, sniffing like bloodhounds tracking prey.

"What the hell... are those zombies or dogs?"

Ethan stared, baffled. They were clearly humanoid zombies, but their movements were pure canine.

Then one of them lifted its head.

Its face was covered in short fur, the snout protruding like a dog's, whiskers twitching, and when it opened its mouth, sharp fangs gleamed with thick, glistening saliva.

"Woof! Woof woof woof!" it barked—actually barked—like a real dog.

Anyone else would've been scared out of their mind at the sight of something like that.

But Ethan? He was just fascinated.

What the hell was this thing?

A zombie with rabies?

He figured it had to be some kind of mutation—probably a fusion of the rabies virus and the zombie virus. Maybe a human got bitten by a zombie dog, got infected with both, and turned into... this.

But one thing Ethan was almost certain of:

One of San Diego's Four War Generals—the Zombie Kings—had to be dog-related.

The rabid zombies let out a few more snarls, then suddenly perked up, as if they'd caught a scent. As one, they took off in the same direction.

They shifted back to walking upright, their twisted, dog-like faces twitching as they sniffed the air, still tracking something.

Ethan guessed they'd picked up the scent of a human hideout. He couldn't help but be impressed.

"Damn... those noses are no joke."

Zombies already had heightened senses of smell. Add canine traits to the mix, and these things were basically walking bloodhounds with fangs.

San Diego really was a breeding ground for freaks...

Ethan muttered to himself, half-jokingly wondering if he should let one of these zombie dogs bite Big Ears—see if he'd mutate too. With his Hyper Hearing and a super nose? He'd be like a walking radar.

As the rabid zombies sprinted ahead, Ethan followed silently behind.

They were fast—sometimes running on two legs, sometimes dropping to all fours, scrambling over rocks and leaping like beasts.

They were elite zombies now, no doubt about it—mutated with enhanced tracking abilities.

The pack ran for nearly a mile and a half before finally slowing down.

Up ahead was a rocky hill, jagged boulders jutting out like broken teeth.

Ethan caught it too—a faint trace of blood in the air. Barely noticeable, like someone with bleeding gums. But the rabid zombies had locked onto it from over a mile away. Their sensitivity was on par with sharks in the ocean, able to detect blood from miles off.

The pack scrambled up the rocky slope, then began clawing furiously at a massive boulder—easily weighing dozens of tons—snarling and barking as they tried to get through.

But the rock was too big. Even for elite zombies, it wouldn't budge.

Behind that boulder was a cave.

Inside, eight humans were huddled together—five men, three women.

Panic was written all over their faces.

"There's something out there... I think it's zombies!"

"But how? We're hidden so well—how could they have found us?"

"I don't know..."

A skinny young man among them stayed relatively calm. He was a psychic-type Awakener and had already sensed what was going on outside.

"Don't panic," he said. "They're mutated zombies, yeah, but they're more about tracking than fighting. Their combat ability isn't that high."

A burly man next to him, a strength-type Awakener, nodded.

"Yeah, I had to use everything I had to move that boulder into place. No way even elite zombies are getting through that. We're safe."

"Oh... okay."

The group relaxed a little, though confusion lingered.

"Didn't we use a psychic barrier to mask our presence? How the hell did they still find us?"

"It's the scent of blood," the skinny guy explained. "Psychic barriers can't block that completely."

"But none of us are injured," one of the guys said, frowning. "Where's the blood coming from?"

Even if they weren't in immediate danger, attracting monsters was never a good sign.

One of the girls blushed, lowering her head in embarrassment.

"Um... it's me. My... aunt Flo came to visit."

"Aunt Flo?" the guy blinked. "Well, tell her to leave! It's dangerous as hell out there—"

...