All Chapters of Reborn Among The Dead, The Zombies Apocalypse : Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

The last of the Wolves died at 0612, in a drainage ditch behind a gas station that had run out of gasoline three years before the world ended.Maya tracked him on the thermal feed — a single bright bloom going cold in the snow. He had been running since midnight. She let him run. There was no value in chasing a dying man through the woods, and there was no mercy in finishing him from three miles away when the cold would do it for free.She marked his position on the map and turned away from the console.The mountain belonged to them again.Gideon went down the access road on foot.He moved slowly now, rifle low, stepping over the things the night had left behind. The truck barricade was a ruin of shattered glass and frozen blood. Two of the logging trucks had burned through the night and were still smoking, their tires melted into the asphalt. The trench line was quiet.He checked each body. Not out of respect, exactly. Out of habit. A man playing dead with a knife in his boot had cost G

The hospital rose out of the ash like a broken tooth.Sector 4 General had been a twelve-story monument to modern medicine, all glass and steel and gleaming white corridors. Now it was a blackened skeleton, its windows shattered, its facade scarred by fire and the impacts of desperate vehicles. The main entrance was blocked by a pileup of ambulances, their doors hanging open, their interiors dark and still.Maya killed the dirt bike's engine two blocks away, letting it coast into the shadow of a collapsed parking garage. Gideon did the same beside her, his movements silent and precise.The air was thick with the smell of death—not the fresh, coppery tang of the first days, but the old, sweet rot of things that had been dead for weeks. It clung to the back of Maya's throat, made her stomach tighten. She pressed a hand to her belly, feeling the child shift inside her, and forced herself to breathe through her nose.Gideon dismounted and pulled a pair of binoculars from his chest rig. He s

The pharmacy was a graveyard of broken promises.Shelves lay toppled, their contents scattered across the linoleum like confetti at a funeral. Empty pill bottles, torn packaging, the shattered remains of glass display cases. Someone had been here before them—desperate, thorough, and long dead.Maya moved through the wreckage with quiet efficiency, her spatial dimension reaching out, absorbing what remained. A half-empty bottle of broad-spectrum antibiotics. A sealed trauma kit. Three boxes of morphine auto-injectors. A case of IV saline. The auto-organization feature in her dimension immediately cataloged everything, sorting by expiration date and medical priority.Chloe watched her, her brow furrowed. "How are you carrying all that? Your pack isn't even open."Maya didn't look up. "Compression straps. Military surplus."It was a lie, but Chloe didn't press it. She was too busy scanning the corridor, her pistol raised, her wounded leg making her favor her right side.Gideon was at the do

They went back in at dusk.The hospital loomed against the bruised sky like a mausoleum, its broken windows staring down at them with hollow, black eyes. Maya killed the dirt bike's engine in the same alley they'd escaped through six hours earlier, the silence rushing back in like water filling a void.Chloe had insisted on coming. Her leg was heavily bandaged, the antibiotics already working, but she'd swung onto the back of Gideon's bike with the stubborn determination of someone who refused to be left behind. "You're going into the basement levels," she'd said. "That's where the morgue is. That's where the dead stack up. You need a medic."Maya hadn't argued. Chloe was right.The three of them moved through the loading dock entrance, their weapons raised, their footsteps silent on the cracked concrete. The smell was worse now—the bodies they'd left in the pharmacy had begun to bloat in the warm, stagnant air. Maya pressed the back of her hand against her mouth, her pregnant belly

The medical bay was quiet except for the soft beep of the heart monitor and the distant hum of the air scrubbers.Chloe lay on the examination table, her left leg elevated, the fresh bandages stark white against her tanned skin. The antibiotics were working—the red streaks had faded, the swelling had gone down, and the wound was closing cleanly. But the pain was still there, a dull, throbbing ache that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.The door hissed open, and Elena stepped in, carrying two mugs of coffee. The steam curled upward in the cool air, carrying the rich, bitter scent of real coffee—the first Chloe had smelled in three weeks."I brought you something," Elena said, her voice warm, casual. She set one of the mugs on the table beside Chloe's hand. "Real coffee. Not that powdered crap I've been surviving on."Chloe looked at her, her expression guarded but not hostile. "Thanks."Elena pulled up a chair and sat beside the table, cradling her own mug. She took a slow sip, her eye