Chapter 90: The Gap Between Both Sides

The zombie horde was massive, like a never-ending sea of the undead. Through the scope, all you could see were zombies, stretching out forever.

Wellington took one look at the burning oil wells and refineries and knew they were toast. The equipment at the wells had already crumbled, and there wasn't a soul or even a zombie in sight—probably all turned to ash in the inferno. The refinery was even worse off; the tall towers were glowing red-hot, some parts melted into molten iron, leaving gaping holes. The buildings were long gone, reduced to ashes, and the oil tanks kept blowing up, with the fire totally out of control.

Zombies surged like waves, crashing toward the human army in a wild, epic scene. Compared to the twenty thousand zombies at the small oasis last night, this was a whole new level of chaos.

So, how many are hundreds of thousands of zombies? Think about it: a typical middle school has about two to three thousand students. When they pack the playground, it almost fills up a football field, making a dense crowd. Now, imagine how many groups of two to three thousand fit into hundreds of thousands. It’s like trying to describe the ocean with a cup of water—just impossible.

The army and the team fought pretty much the same way, but their aim was way better. Two long lines of soldiers took turns firing, making sure the bullets never stopped flying.

The zombie waves looked fierce, but under the relentless gunfire, they were like waves crashing against rocks—gone in an instant. Some advanced zombies tried to break through, but officers were stationed every few feet in the columns, keeping order and taking out the advanced ones.

Wellington had Oliver find a slightly raised sand dune and parked the pickup there. He lay on the roof, telescope in hand, watching the carnage between humans and zombies.

To Wellington, this battle was like a game; as long as they kept their distance, humans were safe. Just as he thought, nearly ten thousand soldiers, split into two columns of about five thousand each, kept retreating while maintaining their distance from the zombies. With their heavy firepower, advanced zombies were often taken out as soon as they got close.

Logically, there had to be some super-advanced zombies attacking the oil wells last night. No way could level 4 or 5 zombies take down such a heavily guarded place without a sound. The only explanation was some unknown zombies with special abilities, which were the key to the fall of the oil wells.

Sadly, the more than two thousand soldiers at the oil wells were either eaten or turned into zombies. The few who escaped were just patrol members and had no clue what went down at the wells. It was a mystery that might never be solved.

Nearly ten thousand soldiers had firepower that no other armed team could match. They were well-trained, didn’t have to worry about daily life, had the support of an armory, and spent a lot of time practicing, making their shooting accuracy top-notch. Within 300 feet, seven or eight out of ten shots would hit a zombie's head, and within 150 feet, they almost never missed.

But among those hundreds of thousands of zombies, there were at least a few hundred of different levels. If they got too close and a level 5 or higher zombie suddenly made a move, they could cover 150 feet in a heartbeat and cause some serious damage. So, they kept the distance between humans and zombies between 240 and 450 feet.

The battlefield was a total wipeout, with zombies dropping like flies. In just an hour, the hundreds of thousands of zombies were toast, leaving a massive field of corpses. Human casualties? Almost zilch.

Wellington never thought zombies could take down nearly ten thousand soldiers in this setup. These weren’t just any armed forces; they were real soldiers, professional military guys. They’d spent the apocalypse years training, doing live-fire drills every day. Their skills were way above those of armed hunters.

Thinking about the force of twenty-three thousand soldiers under the Bureau’s control gave Wellington the chills. If he ever went head-to-head with the Bureau, it’d be a bloodbath.

"Oliver, you think we could ever snag this army?" Wellington leaned back on the pickup’s roof, lit a cigarette, handed the telescope to Oliver, and popped a question that almost made Oliver pass out. Honestly, Wellington’s got some advantages, and while he can’t compete with the Bureau right now, given some time, who knows? Don’t forget, Wellington’s got that teleportation trick up his sleeve, which could bring in a ton of weapons.

Oliver just grinned and said, "Mr. Guise, sure, we could get this army. The key is to take out all the big shots in the Bureau..." He made a throat-slitting gesture, "Otherwise, with the Bureau’s tangled power structure, you think they’d ever listen to us? Plus, why would they?"

Wellington was just shooting the breeze and didn’t take it seriously. He said, "I’m just bummed about the gap between us."

Looking at the blazing sun, the sudden fall of the oil wells and refineries hit everyone hard, but Wellington saw a silver lining. Fuel was a big deal. Now that the oil wells were toast, the settlements couldn’t supply fuel anymore, which was a major blow. Without vehicles, fighting zombies would lose its edge.

Without vehicles, hunting would be a joke, and breaking through zombie hordes would be a pipe dream.

But fuel wasn’t the biggest issue; salt was what everyone was freaking out about. You could survive without fuel, but without salt? No one wanted to think about that.

According to the morning news, the salt wells hadn’t fallen to the zombies yet. Nearly a thousand troops were holding off the zombie attacks. Eight thousand soldiers had rushed out from the settlement, half of them in military vehicles. Logically, the zombies shouldn’t be able to overrun them. But the oil wells fell without a peep, so the salt wells could be next!

So, after confirming the oil wells were toast, Wellington was just as worried about the salt wells. They were crucial to his future plans.