Chapter 35: Dead Space Between

Three days later, the cleared strech of road finally met open ground. The soldiers pushed one more, shoving the black hatchback car aside.

The tires screeched along the asphalt, drawing a group of nearby zombies. Dmitri raised his gun and fired, blowing their heads apart in bursts of blood.

“Sector cleared. Road ahead is open.”

He squinted, examining the unnatural orderly line of cars up ahead. This sight caught him off guard, suggesting the presence of another survivor group operating nearby.

“Everyone, take a rest,” He raised a hand, signaling the team, “We’ll continue after five minutes.”

“Someone got ahead of us,” Adrian walked over, puffing white smoke from the cigar between his fingers. “Who do you think these people are?”

“Don’t smoke near me.” Dmitri fanned his hands, “And how come your cigars are still here?”

“Hehe, youth must be explored and enjoyed,” Adrian took another breath then grinned at Dmitri, “Want some?”

Dmitri shook his head, ignored Adrian’s invitations, and took out his binoculars, zooming in on the urban fringe in the distance.

The area was eerily silent, save for the groans of the zombies. The entrance had been blockaded by hastily arranged wrecked cars. A blood-stained strip of white fabric hung from the guard post, coupled with the heads of zombies sticking out on the rooftop.

“Oh, a grand welcoming?” Adrian asked, scanning the right side of the urban fringe, “Head kebabs and a warning cloth… they spared all the effort didn’t they?”

“Their strength remains to be seen.” Dmitri commented, confident that the two squads sent here for the exploration would be more than enough to curb most threats thrown at them.

Even if that threat was a human, or a group of them.

“That blockade must be destroyed, or the armored SUV cannot push through.”

The surrounding area was uneven ground, a bit hilly, and costed more gasoline than driving into the road. The Commander’s SUV may be off-road worthy, but Dmitri would rather stick to predictable roads than the unpredictable ones.

“Do you want to take the left, or the right?” Adrian took off the binoculars, unable to grasp more about the urban fringe’s situation from afar.

“You go right. I’ll go left.” Dmitri scanned the left side of the urban fringe, following a row of small houses on the edge.

“Shall we go then?” Adrian picked up his pack and whistled towards Vex. His subtle signal alerted the others, regrouping back where the armored SUV has been parked.

Dmitri planted his back to the SUV, arms crossed.

“Listen up everyone. Here’s the plan: We’ll split into two squads, one led by me and the other by Adrian. Two army soldiers and four conscripts per squad.”

“Go for silent takedowns against the zombies, but be on the lookout for the special ones.” Dmitri glanced at Adrian, warning him through eye contact.

“Should you encounter other humans, point your guns but do not fire unless they threaten your safety. Non-lethal shots unless a firefight occurs.”

“Any questions?”

Adrian raised his hand, “How about the loots?”

“Prioritize food and water. As for materials and anything else, mark them down.” Dmitri answered, “Anything else?”

Everyone shook their heads.

“Good. Mr. Roger, you go with Adrian. You must have passed through this area a few times, yes?”

“I have, Sir Dmitri…” Roger answered, hardly able to pronounce Dmitri’s name, “The left side of the fringe are mostly houses. The commercial ones are on the right.”

“That settles it. Everyone, ready yourselves.” Dmitri knuckled his arms and exhaled deeply, “Departure at thirteen hundred.”

The sun hung high before beginning its slow descent toward the west. Two squads moved across the highway, closing in on the barricaded area.

Their knives were stained with fresh blood. Zombies lay scattered on the road, the last one thumping as it collapsed.

“Those heads look fresh.” Dmitri squinted, raising a hand to signal the advance.

The squads circled around the wrecked cars, passed through the abandoned guard post, and finally stepped into the urban fringe.

A cold wind blew by, eerily echoing the stories of people that had died inside.

Dmitri tilted his head, signaling his squad to go left. Meanwhile, Adrian and his team walked to the right side.

Pieces of glass were sprinkled onto the road. Sharp shards stuck out on the windows of houses and stores—some painted with dried blood.

“Zombies or humans?” Adrian muttered, noticing the lack of zombies in the area. “Careful, someone might be around.”

The two squads slowly advanced, reaching an intersection not long after. Wrecked cars piled at the center—one vehicle nearly vertical, its front bumper inwardly denting.

Rotting bodies were sprawled across the car interiors or flung nearby. Dmitri crouched beside a female corpse, frowning at the fresh bullet wound near her chest. Marks of blades and gashes scarred her face, her eyes and mouth frozen wide open.

“Body didn’t rot. Blade wounds, maybe a knife. Gashes… maybe she fell?” he muttered, “Body’s cold. She died a few days ago.”

He stood up and walked back to his squad, delivering grave news.

“Eyes sharp. Fingers on the trigger. We have armed people patrolling these parts.”

A sense of unease settled over Ryan and the others. Fights against zombies were unsurprising. Humans, especially those who had guns and the will to fight back, were not.

The urban terrain didn’t help either. Too many angles piled against the squad, their blind spots numerous.

“Change of plans. We pass through the alleys. I’ll take point. Ryan, behind me. Lukas, you take the rear. Loose formation.”

The squad reorganized, cautious of the unknown human threat. Adrian observed their movements from afar and drew his own conclusion.

“Dmitri must have noticed about these fresh human corpses.”

He issued the same orders. Once his squad was ready, they turned to the right, heading toward a warehouse used for material storage.

Dmitri moved left, setting his sights on the local bank near the suburbs.

The alleys, though narrow, sparsely had zombies on the way. His hands holding the knife had never rested—striking down zombies or pushing an obstacle aside.

The team vaulted across a wire fence and found that the road ahead bent to the right. They reluctantly returned to the streets, finding it empty once again.

Just as Dmitri wanted to step forward, his ears caught a hint of drawers being pulled out on a small office building beside them.

He quickly turned to his team and raised his index finger.

The others planted their backs on the wall, lowered their breaths, and tightened their muscles. Dmitri peeked out, encountering a young man outside the entrance.

His back faced Dmitri, blowing a cigar underneath the cover of his dirty hands. His shirt and pants were torn—the former on the armhole, and the other right slightly below the knees.

Behind the young man was a silver machete, its sharp edges gleaming under the hot afternoon.

“Oy, are you two done fucking over there? It’s hot out here.” he complained.

“Keep your tats to yourself, jackass. You ain’t helping so shut your trap.” the voice inside the building rebutted.

“Say, did the boss catch the traitor earlier?” the young man’s words piqued Dmitri’s interest.

“No, but he did catch that man’s friends. I heard the boss had fun teaching them a lesson.”

“That guy dared to trick the boss with equipment. Those freedom fighter guys are fucked! They messed with the wrong people!”

The young man righteously complained, his cold voice and indifferent tone ringing loudly into the street.

“When the boss unlocks that station’s armory, he’s going to be a tyrant in this fringe. Hehehe…” the other voice inside the building replied, huffing and puffing as he spoke.

A rhythmic sound of thrashing echoed inside the second floor, followed by the low moans of a woman.

The young man ignored it, seemingly unconcerned about the sexual acts.

“Yeah, whatever goes in our way, shooting them down will do it!”

He laughed, proud of his own imagnations.

Their dark conversation lowered Dmitri’s impression by the second. To him, this group would become hostile against the Commander in the future.

The young man outside needed to be eliminated—the others interrogated.

His team looked at him crossing his right hand across his neck, pointing at the young man. They immediately understood—Dmitri wanted that guy dead.

They reflected to the rules of engagement set earlier, but found it reasonable why Dmitri would change his mind.

Rules were for misunderstandings. This isn’t one.

Dmitri raised two fingers on the left hand and wrapped it around his wrist—restrain the other two then interrogate them.

The team shifted their bodies, waiting for Dmitri to act.

The young man picked up his machete and paced near their position. He bit on the cigar and began wiping the machete absent-mindedly.

Dmitri’s knife suddenly flew. It struck straight into the young man’s neck.

A wet cough cracked on his throat and the cigar flew out of his mouth.

He staggered back, lost his footing, and collapsed onto the ground, limbs twitching all over. The trembling hands caught the knife’s handle, desperate to pull it out.

Dmitri stepped in first, driving it deeper, twisting the blade around the young man’s neck. Hollow groans left his mouth as his eyes locked onto Dmitri’s face, cold and detached.

“Move!”

The team barged into the building, the loud footsteps startling the two people on the second floor.

“Who’s there?!”

“Do you know who we are?!”

Ryan took point, peeking on the corners. “Clear!”

He raised his right hand and signaled to cover the right flank. Arriving on the second floor, he checked the first door.

The two people hid behind the wooden desk, still tucking their pants in. Ryan snorted, “Raise your hands. Up, pull them up!”

The couple, a man and a woman, shivered and stepped back, following Ryan’s words.

“No, no, no, dear soldiers! Please don’t hurt us!”

“We—!”

“Get on the ground!” Ryan grasped the man’s hands and pushed him down face-first.

The woman fell on her feet too, the pants sliding down and revealing a dirty panty.

Lukas scowled on the stench of dried fish, grunting as he seized both of her hands before pulling her pants back up.

“Damn it, what a joke!”

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