The Endgame Chronicles (by Hugh White) novel Chapter 739

Chapter 739

An hour later, everyone had caught their breath.

Hayley had also finished setting up a small trap.

It was around 2 p.m.

The sky was overcast, the light outside dim. It looked like rain could come at any moment.

Hayley decided they couldn’t wait any longer. No matter what, Clearwater Residences would be safer than staying here. “Get ready. We’re moving.”

“Got it!”

Everyone snapped to attention, eyes sharp. They gripped whatever they had managed to find: chair legs, broken pieces of metal, anything they could use as a weapon.

During that hour, they had all scavenged for something to hold onto.

Hayley looked out at the clusters of zombies still wandering nearby and pulled on a thin line in her hand.

The line stretched deep into the building. About 100 yards away, a gunshot cracked.

Bang!

The zombies outside turned instantly, rushing toward the sound.

Hayley watched the crowd thin, waiting for the right moment.

At the same time, a loud crash exploded from the lobby behind them. The glass doors they had relied on finally gave way.

The horde they had held back came flooding in, their snarls and pounding footsteps echoing through the building.

“Run!”

The moment the path cleared, Hayley pushed the door open.

They bolted toward Clearwater Residences.

As they ran, it hit everyone just how sharp Hayley’s judgment was.

She had been right. Staying in that building would’ve gotten them killed.

“Raarh! Raarh!”

The zombies that had chased the gunshot caught the scent of living people again and turned back, charging after them.

They came twisted and broken. Heads tilted at unnatural angles, jaws hanging loose, bodies warped like

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Chapter 739

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they had been crushed in some violent wreck.

The closest one looked the worst. Half its face was flattened, like it had been run over. One eye had sunk deep into the socket, the other barely held together. Its ear hung in a mangled flap, flapping like a torn fin

as it ran.

No matter what the zombies had been through, they kept coming, driven by a stubborn, unyielding instinct, pushing forward toward the living.

Because at their core, there was only one thought left: food.

They were hungry!

“Raarh!”

The mangled zombie lunged straight at Tyler in the middle of the group. He swung the aluminum chair leg he had grabbed.

Clang!

The impact felt like hitting solid stone.

Its face looked as if it would fall apart at a touch, but its bones and flesh had evolved and hardened.

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