The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 640

**Kept Woman 640: The Green Fog of Firestone**

The unexpected words fell from Solan’s lips, catching everyone off guard, like a sudden clap of thunder on a clear day.

“Solan, take him along. Be careful,” Arwen instructed, her voice steady but laced with concern. She regarded him with an expression that only a sister could muster—eyes shimmering with warmth and an unmistakable pride, as if she were sending a beloved brother off into the unknown.

“Got it,” Solan replied, a firm nod punctuating his commitment.

There was a certain gravity in his demeanor when his wife spoke; he listened intently, as if her words were sacred.

In addition to Theresa and Quentin, Solan gathered a total of forty individuals, Louisa’s team included among them. They set forth in three military pickups, the engines roaring to life, rumbling like distant thunder as they rolled out of the camp and into the uncertain world beyond.

As they departed, Orren brushed past Theresa, a sneer playing on his lips as he muttered under his breath, “Just so you know, I didn’t rat you out to my sister, you vain snob.”

Theresa’s lips twitched slightly, a mix of amusement and irritation bubbling beneath the surface.

The trio of armored vehicles sped toward Firestone, their tires crunching over gravel as the landscape blurred past.

By the time they reached their destination, the clock had barely struck nine. A pale green haze enveloped the city, hanging over it like a sinister shroud, suffocating and toxic.

The vehicles came to a halt on a ridge that offered a panoramic view of the city below. Inside, Theresa leaned forward, peering through the windshield at the swirling fog that danced ominously. “Mr. Rowen, do you have any idea where this toxic mist originated?” she asked, her voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

“It’s only been around for the past two years,” Solan responded, his tone serious. “I haven’t pinpointed the source yet.”

“Only two years?” Theresa’s brow furrowed in confusion.

She had assumed the haze was a byproduct of the numerous chemical plants scattered throughout the city, their leaks typically manifesting in the early morning and late evening. Yet, the apocalypse had begun over four years ago. If those plants were indeed the culprits, the leaks would have emerged long before now—not just in the last two years.

Every zombie that roamed this city bore sickly green skin and bulging, bloodshot eyes that seemed to reflect the very essence of despair.

A vivid memory flashed through Theresa’s mind, the images of the bodies she had encountered while sprinting through Firestone—earlier corpses, untouched by the green taint that now defined the undead.

Could it be that this insidious mist had seeped into the very essence of the living dead, forcing them to undergo a grotesque transformation?

“Mr. Rowen, were the zombies here different before the mist appeared? Did they only turn green afterward?” she pressed, her curiosity morphing into concern.

“Yes,” Solan affirmed, his voice unwavering.

“And what about that giant zombie—was it unique to Firestone?” she inquired further, her heart racing.

“Yes,” he confirmed once more. “Only Firestone is home to that abomination.”

“I’ve spent years here,” he continued, his tone grave as he surveyed the landscape. “The situation in Firestone is unlike any other place. The zombies here evolve in ways that defy explanation. Due to the presence of the giant zombies and this toxic mist, we had no choice but to abandon the city.”

As Solan’s words sank in, a chilling realization began to coalesce in Theresa’s mind. Her gaze grew heavy, burdened with the weight of understanding.

This toxic fog was not a mere accident; it was a calculated act.

With each frantic step, pieces of dark, pulpy flesh slapped wetly against the ground—soft, blackened remnants of something that had once been alive.

They were likely just rotted strands of intestine or what remained of its shredded insides.

Then came a deafening crash.

The creature lunged onto the windshield, its decomposing face pressed flat against the glass, a grotesque mask of death.

Its jaw gaped wide—far wider than a human’s should ever be able to stretch—revealing a mouth full of jagged yellow teeth that scraped and ground together with a hideous creak.

The bulging eyes smashed against the glass, flattening until two thin streams of red-black fluid oozed down like ink, staining the pristine surface.

The night air filled with their howls—low, guttural, a symphony of horror.

Outside, the grotesque moans of the zombies echoed through the air, a chilling serenade that sent chills racing down Theresa’s spine. Inside the truck, one of the men fumbled for a plastic bag, his face contorting in distress as he heaved violently, expelling every bite of the instant noodles he had carelessly consumed that morning.

Within seconds, the sour, fermented stench of vomit permeated the cabin, a nauseating reminder of the horrors unfolding outside.

Theresa cast a glance at Orren in the rearview mirror, observing him retch helplessly in the back seat, her expression a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

Seriously? This is the kind of man I have to work with?

The others exchanged glances, their eyes glinting with a mix of ridicule and barely contained laughter, the absurdity of the situation momentarily cutting through the dread that hung in the air like a heavy fog.