The Endgame Chronicles (by Hugh White) novel Chapter 551

Chapter 551

The truck jolted hard and suddenly locked up.

Someone filthy and soaked in grime had just fallen right in front of the loader.

The machine was equipped with a live–detection safety system. The second a living person stepped into its clearing range, it automatically shut down.

Sitting high above the street, Hayley looked down at the figure sprawled on the pavement.

He was bundled head–to–toe in six thick layers of winter clothing, the fabric stacked so thick and bulky that th was no way to tell how old he might be. Judging by his frame alone, he appeared to be a grown man.

There hadn’t been many zombies along this stretch of road. Dressed like that, he blended in perfectly. No one could tell he was alive until he hit the ground.

The fall drew the scattered zombies from both sides of the street.

They shuffled closer, jaws hanging open. Years old and long dried out, their mouths gaped wide, but no blood came out, just dark brown rot. Their faces were riddled with sores and holes.

Parasites had chewed through them for years. When winter came, the parasites froze and died, leaving behind black eggs buried deep in their rotting flesh.

The zombies broke into uneven sprints, and the sight of them wasn’t much different from mummified corpses clawing their way out of graves.

The man on the ground saw them closing in. He twisted around and shouted up at Hayley.

“What are you waiting for? You hit me, and you’re just leaving? Get me up there! Now!”

Hayley stared down at him. He looked more like a drifter than a survivor. She gave a small wave and pressed down on the accelerator.

The loader lurched forward with a heavy crash. The grinder in the bucket roared back to life. The massive machine pushed ahead, chewing through whatever was in front of it.

The man scrambled up, limping, half crawling as he dragged himself out of the way.

He barely cleared the loader’s path, brushing past it as it rolled by.

From above, Hayley’s voice drifted down, light and casual. “Seriously? It’s the apocalypse. Who do you think you’re scamming?”

The man exploded. “Scamming? You almost ran me over! And you’re calling me a scammer? Don’t you dare leave! Stop the truck, damn it!”

If she had the time, she would’ve jumped down and knocked some sense into him.

But she didn’t.

She had 24 hours to kill 10 thousand zombies. No time for nobodies.

She tilted the bucket and flung a spray of half ground zombie remains straight at him.

The man’s face drained. He cursed at her, then took off, legs pumping as fast as he could.

1/2

+15 BC

From the cab, Hayley watched him flee.

Something about the way he ran caught her eye. He was very fast, and he ran in a perfectly straight line. No weaving, hardly even a slight curve.

Maybe it was the angle?

Either way, it was strange.

She pulled her gaze away and drove toward the cluster of buildings up ahead.

As she got closer, the number of zombies spiked. They poured in from both sides of the street.

Most of them wore the same thing.

The boys were dressed in white button–downs and knee–length shorts. The girls wore white blouses and plaid skirts.

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