Chapter 222: Claiming Atlantic City [3]

We numbered approximately thirty people in total when combining both our group and Martin’s fighters, a substantial force for clearing operations, though whether it would be sufficient for the scale of work we were attempting remained to be seen.

We advanced together in a coordinated formation, though we maintained spacing between individuals to allow for better freedom of movement and maneuverability in case things went wrong. Bunching up too tightly would make us vulnerable to being overwhelmed if we encountered a large concentration of Infected, and it would restrict our ability to swing weapons or dodge attacks effectively.

I positioned myself at the very front of our column alongside Rachel, the two of us serving as the spearhead that would make first contact with any threats. Christopher, Cindy, and Sydney followed several yards behind us, forming a second defensive line that could either support our forward position or protect the flanks as needed. Ivy moved quietly among them;

Further back, Martin’s group of twenty fighters spread out in a loose crescent shape that curved around behind our tighter formation. This positioning allowed them to cover our rear and sides simultaneously, creating a protective envelope that should prevent us from being surrounded or attacked from unexpected angles.

The last time I had been in Atlantic City, I bad encountered an Enhanced Infected, those terrifyingly dangerous variants that possessed supernatural abilities far beyond the shambling corpses we’d grown accustomed to fighting. And according to Marlon’s Boardwalk community, they’d encountered several more Enhanced variants since establishing their settlement.

We absolutely couldn’t afford to dismiss the possibility that we might encounter another Enhanced Infected today. If one appeared, it would be devastatingly fast and lethally dangerous, capable of killing multiple people actually. That reality meant we needed to maintain constant vigilance, staying alert for any sign of abnormal movement.

It didn’t take particularly long for us to penetrate deeper into Atlantic City proper. We followed the same main road we’d traveled during our initial scouting expedition, the familiar route making navigation easier and reducing the chances of getting disoriented in the urban maze. However, this time when we reached the critical intersection, we turned right instead of continuing straight toward the Boardwalk area we’d visited previously.

The territory we were targeting for settlement lay on the eastern side of the Boardwalk district, separated from Marlon’s community by that large commercial mall structure. This entire section of the city was completely new to us, unexplored territory. We had rough ideas about the layout based on those observations, but actually being here on the ground revealed details no amount of distant observation could provide.

The streets in this area showed clear signs of long abandonment and decay. Debris littered the sidewalks and roads—broken glass, scattered papers, overturned trash cans, abandoned vehicles sitting on flattened tires. Many storefronts had been smashed open, their interiors thoroughly looted months ago during the initial chaos of the outbreak. Nature was beginning to reclaim the urban landscape, with weeds pushing up through cracks in the pavement and vines creeping up building facades.

“Infected.”

Martin’s calm voice cut through my wandering observations, snapping my attention back to the threats.

I spotted multiple Infected emerging from various directions around us.

They shambled out from alleyways, stumbled through broken storefront doors, and lurched around the corners of buildings—drawn by the noise and movement of our large group passing through their territory. I did a quick count and estimated at least a dozen visible from my position, with probably more still approaching from angles I couldn’t see.

Fortunately, they all appeared to be ordinary variants, the standard shuffling corpses with slow, uncoordinated movements and no special abilities. That was manageable. Dangerous if you were careless or got overwhelmed by sheer numbers, but nothing our group couldn’t handle with proper discipline and technique.

Several Infected had already gotten quite close, blocking our forward path. They stumbled toward us with their characteristic lurching gait, arms outstretched and mouths hanging open in silent hunger.

“Don’t take any unnecessary risks,” I called out loudly enough for everyone to hear. “If you’re not completely confident you can handle an Infected safely on your own, team up with a partner and take it down together. Two-on-one is always safer than one-on-one.”

I genuinely hoped we wouldn’t lose anyone today, but preventing casualties would require everyone working together rather than trying to be heroes especially the ones with not enhanced body like me.

“I’ll handle these ones,” I said to my group, gesturing toward the four Infected that had gotten closest to our position and were now only about fifteen feet away.

Gripping my hand axe, I walked forward to meet the first creature. It was what had probably been a middle-aged woman before infection—still wearing the tattered remains of business attire, her decomposing face twisted into a rictus of mindless hunger. She reached toward me with grasping hands, oblivious to the weapon I carried.

I swung the axe in a perfect arc, putting my enhanced strength behind the blow. The blade bit deep into her neck, cutting clean through decaying flesh and brittle bone until the head separated completely from the body. Both pieces crumpled to the ground, truly dead now.

Maybe it was because I’d been fighting Hybrid Infected and Enhanced variants so frequently in recent weeks, but these ordinary Infected barely seemed like threats anymore. Their movements appeared sluggish to my eyes, almost comically slow, giving me what felt like excessive amounts of time to react and position my attacks. Or perhaps my sensory perception and reaction time had genuinely improved through constant combat and the ongoing evolution of my Dullahan-enhanced physiology.

Whatever the explanation, dispatching the second and third Infected proved just as easy as the first. A swing here, a calculated strike there, and two more permanently dead corpses collapsed onto the pavement.

But I paused slightly when approaching the fourth one.

This Infected had been a child before the outbreak—a boy who couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old based on his small stature. He wore the remains of what had probably been school clothes, now filthy and torn. His face, though corrupted by infection and decay, still retained enough childlike features to make the reality of what I was about to do feel heavier than usual.

I clenched the handle of my axe tighter, forcing myself to remember the crucial truth: the boy who’d worn this body had already died. What stood before me now was just an animated corpse, a puppet of meat and bone controlled by a parasitic organism. There was no consciousness, no suffering, no child still trapped inside hoping for rescue.

The mercy was in ending it.

I swung the axe again, and the small body crumpled to join the others.

“Let’s continue moving,” I said quietly, stepping past the collection of corpses without looking back.

The sound of combat echoed around us as we continued our advance deeper into Atlantic City. The clash of metal against bone, the wet impact of weapons finding their targets, the occasional grunt of effort from our fighters.

Behind me, I could hear Sydney’s distinctive laugh as she used her speed without using her Dullahan ability just in case, to dash between Infected, her blade flashing in rapid succession. “Come on, is this really the best Atlantic City has to offer?” She called out. “I’ve fought scarier things in my nightmares!”

“Save your energy and stop showing off,” Cindy called back, dispatching an Infected that had emerged from a ransacked pharmacy with her road violently swinging against the head, clearly breaking skulls there…

Christopher worked alongside her, using a reinforced baseball bat from wherever he got it to crush skulls. “At this rate, we’ll have the perimeter cleared by early afternoon,” he said, stepping over a fallen corpse to engage the next threat. “Assuming we don’t hit any major concentrations.”

Rachel stayed close to my right flank, her enhanced senses scanning the buildings around us for any sign of ambush or hidden dangers and protect us in that case with her barriers. I purposefully asked her to not care about fighting and focusing looking around for any threat and ready to protect us.

“Here Ryan, there’s a group of five or six clustered in that clothing store ahead,” she reported, pointing toward a broken storefront about forty yards down the street. “They’re just standing there, not moving much. Probably drawn by some noise earlier and then lost interest.”

“Good catch,” I said, adjusting our path slightly to give us a better angle of approach. “We’ll take them before they have a chance to cluster with any others.”

Ivy moved quietly among our formation. But I noticed how she positioned herself, always keeping clear lines of retreat and never allowing herself to become isolated. When an Infected stumbled too close to her position, she dispatched it as well before any us could help her with her knife. No wasted energy, no emotional response, just problem-solving through violence.

This nurse was surely something…

Martin’s group was performing admirably as well, I noted with satisfaction. They’d formed into smaller teams of three or four, working in units that provided mutual support and protection. When one person engaged an Infected, their teammates watched for additional threats or provided backup strikes if the first attack didn’t immediately neutralize the target.

“Two more on your left, Ronn!” One of Martin’s people called out—a woman wielding a modified crowbar.

The man she’d warned immediately pivoted, bringing his spike rod up in a defensive position before driving it forward into the approaching Infected’s eye socket. The creature collapsed instantly, its brain destroyed.

“Thanks for the heads up!” He called back, already scanning for the next threat.

This was good. This was exactly the kind of disciplined, cooperative combat we needed to minimize casualties and maximize efficiency. No one was trying to be a hero or take unnecessary risks. Everyone was watching out for their teammates and communicating actively.

Even Brad, Kyle and Billy were taking it seriously thankfully.

We’d been advancing for maybe fifteen minutes when we encountered our first real challenge—a cluster of nearly twenty Infected that had congregated in what appeared to have been a small plaza or courtyard area between buildings. They’d probably been drawn there by some long-ago noise or disturbance and simply stayed, their minimal cognitive function not providing any impetus to move elsewhere.

“That’s more like it,” Sydney said with obvious satisfaction. “Finally something resembling an actual fight.”

“Don’t get cocky,” I said to Sydney. “Twenty on thirty isn’t terrible odds, but if we’re not careful, someone could still get grabbed or bitten. We do this carefully.”

I turned to address Martin’s group. “Form a line here at the plaza entrance. We’ll draw them toward you in manageable numbers. Don’t let them surround you, maintain formation and call out if you need support.”

Martin nodded, quickly organizing his people into a defensive line that blocked the plaza’s main exit. They readied their weapons, feet planted in stable stances.

“Rachel, Sydney, Christopher, Cindy, we’re going in to break up their concentration and drive them toward Martin’s line,” I instructed them. “Ivy, you stay with Martin’s group.”

Ivy acknowledged with a brief nod, moving to position herself behind Martin’s formation where she could observe the entire engagement and respond to injuries if needed.

“Let’s go,” I said, leading my group to the plaza.

The Infected noticed us immediately, their heads turning in eerie unison toward the movement and noise of our approach. Then, as one, they began shambling toward us maybe feeling the smell of a symbiotic on us.

I engaged the first one to reach me, a tall man in the shredded remains of a security uniform. My axe took him in the side of the neck, nearly severing the head completely. I had to plant my foot on his chest to wrench the weapon free before the body had even finished falling.

Sydney became a blue blur as she activated her speed, weaving between the Infected like a dancer through still statues. Her knife flashed repeatedly, finding eye sockets, temples, the soft spot at the base of skulls—anywhere the blade could reach brain matter with minimal resistance. Bodies dropped in her wake, sometimes two or three before the first had even hit the ground.

Rachel also joined in, moved with different style but equal effectiveness, using a reinforced tire iron to deliver crushing blows that caved in skulls and destroyed brain tissue through sheer kinetic force. She was definitely the strongest right after me in pure strength.

Christopher and Cindy worked together, Christopher using his superior reach to keep Infected at bay while Cindy darted in for killing strikes.

Within minutes, we’d cut the cluster down to more manageable numbers and driven the survivors toward where Martin’s group waited.

Obviously we could have taken care of them as well but it wouldn’t be good if we did everything. It was in such moments Margaret’s community needed training in real life situations. We wouldn’t be always be there for them after all.

The remaining Infected stumbled directly into the defensive line…where Martin’s fighters dispatched them almost too easily.

Martin was definitely a good leader.

“Nice work, everyone!” Martin called out once the last Infected had fallen. “Zero injuries on our end. How about you all?”

I did a quick visual check of my team. “All clear here.”

We continued our advance with renewed confidence now.

The streets gradually began to look more familiar as we approached our target area. I recognized landmarks from the maps we’d studied—a distinctive corner building with ornate stonework, a particular intersection where three major streets converged, a small park area that was now completely overgrown with untended vegetation.

“We’re getting close to the boundary between neutral territory and what Marlon’s people claim,” I said, gesturing toward the large commercial building that loomed ahead. “That’s the mall that serves as the dividing line. Our target area is just beyond it to the east.”

As we rounded the mall’s eastern corner, the Whitesun Hotel finally came into view.

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