The Villains Must Win-Chapter 329: Apocalyptic Romance 39

The morning sky was a dull shade of gray — the kind that promised neither light nor mercy.

Five of them stood outside the camp’s broken gate, each armed with what scraps the armory could spare. Their target: a small medical supply store a few blocks away, untouched according to the last scouting report.

Ben, the acting leader for the day, barked orders with a soldier’s confidence that didn’t quite hide the tremor in his voice. "We lure the undead away from the area first, got it? Once they follow the noise, we sweep the building, grab what we can, and get out before they circle back. Simple."

Simple, Sasha thought, loading her pistol. That word never belonged in this world anymore.

The team was mostly rookies — wide-eyed survivors clutching their guns like talismans. Dylan adjusted his glasses, checking the safety on his rifle for the third time.

He wasn’t shaking, but Sasha saw the tension in his jaw.

"Relax," she said, nudging him lightly. "You’ll wrinkle that forehead if you keep frowning."

"I’d rather wrinkle it than lose it," he muttered, scanning the distance. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Sasha grinned. "That’s the spirit, Doctor Doom."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "You give nicknames to everyone who faces probable death with you?"

"Only the ones I like." Too bad that Alvaro and Cloud wasn’t with them and they were deployed on a different raid area.

====

They moved through the deserted streets, broken glass crunching under their boots. The city around them was a skeleton — cars rusted in place, vines crawling over buildings, the air thick with the scent of decay and smoke.

Ben raised a hand. "Sound check," he whispered.

One of the rookies nodded and slammed a metal rod against a lamppost. The echo carried down the street like a funeral bell.

Moments later, the moaning began.

Dozens of undead shambled out from the alleys — slow, hungry, their faces twisted in the half-rotted memory of what used to be human.

The team split as planned, two of them sprinting down the road with the metal rod clanging to keep the horde’s attention.

"Go, go, go!" Ben hissed.

Sasha and Dylan followed him and a fourth member, cutting through a narrow alley that led to the back of the pharmacy. The building loomed over them — two stories, partly caved in, but its windows still intact.

Dylan kicked the side door open, his movements careful but precise. Inside, the shelves were a mess of toppled bottles, scattered bandages, and broken glass.

"This place looks picked clean," Sasha muttered.

"Check the storage room," Ben ordered. "We don’t leave empty-handed."

Sasha slipped inside the back, Dylan following close. The smell of dust and mold hit hard, but behind a collapsed shelf, she spotted a metal cabinet still locked shut.

"Well, look what we have here," she said, brushing off cobwebs.

"Let me." Dylan crouched, pulling a small multitool from his belt. "Might be able to pry it open."

"Didn’t know doctors carried lock-picks."

He didn’t look up. "Doctors in this world do a bit of everything."

The lock snapped with a metallic click, revealing boxes of medicine inside — antiseptics, antibiotics, even a few sealed morphine injectors.

Sasha’s eyes widened. "Jackpot."

They packed everything into their bags. Outside, gunfire rattled the air.

Ben’s voice came through the radio, tense. "They doubled back! Half the horde ignored the noise. They’re coming your way — move, now!"

"Shit." Sasha grabbed her gun. "Roof access!"

They sprinted up the back stairwell, but halfway up, one of the rookies panicked and fired wildly at the door below. The noise was deafening.

"Idiot!" Sasha shouted.

Too late — the undead heard.

The door below cracked, hinges screaming.

"Up, now!" Dylan yelled, pulling her by the arm. They burst onto the rooftop just as the lower door gave way, a wave of bodies flooding the stairs like a living tide.

"Ben! We’re cut off!" Sasha radioed, her voice sharp. "Roof’s crawling soon — we need extraction!"

Static answered her. The gunfire outside had stopped.

No response.

"Damn it," Dylan cursed, glancing around. The roof was barely intact — a flat surface with half a railing and a rusty maintenance ladder leading to nowhere. The street below was filled with undead, dozens of them pressing against the walls, their fingers scraping against concrete, drawn by the scent of life above.

"So much for not dangerous," Sasha muttered through her teeth. "Remind me to kill Ben later."

Dylan crouched, scanning the edges. "If we can reach the next building, we might have a chance."

She followed his gaze — the next rooftop was about ten feet away, but the gap between them yawned like a mouth waiting to swallow them whole.

"You think we can make that jump?"

He looked at her, then at the horde below. "Do you want to find out the alternative?"

Fair point.

Sasha moved first, testing the distance, then took a running start. Her boots hit the edge, and she flew. For a heartbeat, the world hung still — the dead below, the wind in her ears — then she landed hard, rolling onto the next rooftop with a grunt.

"Your turn, Doctor!"

Dylan stepped back, adjusting his grip on the bag of medicine. He hated physics in moments like these. "If I die," he muttered, "don’t waste my body."

"Just jump!" Sasha barked.

He ran. The first second felt fine. The second was terror. He landed short — hands catching the edge of the roof as debris crumbled beneath his fingers.

"Dylan!" Sasha lunged forward, grabbing his wrist before he could slip. "I got you!"

For a breathless moment, they hung there — his weight pulling her toward the edge, her knuckles white from the strain.

"You’re heavier than you look!" she gasped.

"I’m a man after all," he wheezed, trying not to look down at the sea of gnashing teeth beneath him. "I’m supposed to be heavy. I’m tall too! It’s not like I’m fat!"

"Less talking, more climbing!"

He managed to plant his foot against the wall and heaved himself up. They both collapsed, panting, as the undead below continued to scream and claw uselessly at the walls.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing.

Then Sasha started laughing.

"What’s so funny?" Dylan asked, still catching his breath.

"We almost died," she said, still grinning, "and you’re worried about your weight."

He blinked, then let out a short laugh — low and rough, but real. "You have a terrible sense of humor."

"It’s a survival mechanism."

Below them, the groans began to fade, the undead losing interest as the noise drifted away down the street. For now, they were safe.

Dylan stood, offering her his hand. "Come on. There’s another building across that alley — if we’re lucky, it connects to the street behind. We can circle back to camp before sunset."

Sasha took his hand, the gesture oddly gentle for someone covered in ash and blood.

They climbed down the side of the next building carefully.

The city was eerily quiet now — the calm after panic.

However, their circle back to camp didn’t happen and they circled back up over the rood instead when they were surrounded with undead in all sides.