Chapter 132: Distress Signal

Chapter 132: Distress Signal

The street was jam-packed with cars.

Matthew swore he’d never seen so many rides crammed together in his life.

Even those holiday highway nightmares couldn’t hold a candle to the chaos in front of him now.

Cars were bumper to bumper, with crashes, smashes, rollovers, and even some flipped upside down. Basically, if you could think of a car wreck, it was happening here.

The whole mess started with a white Buick sedan. A bunch of zombies got tangled up in its wheels, and their gross flesh stuck to the tires, making the car lose grip. The cars behind it couldn’t stop in time and just piled up one after another.

Didn’t matter if it was a million-dollar luxury car or a beater worth a few grand, it was all the same now. No one was getting out to argue or yell about the damage; money didn’t mean squat when you’re staring death in the face.

The worst were the buses packed with people. The doors were locked tight, and the windows were shut. Dozens, maybe even hundreds of zombies were crammed inside, thrashing around, trying to bust out. The long bus was stuck between other cars but was still rocking from all the chaos. Luckily, there were so many cars that it couldn’t tip over.

Matthew and his crew made a beeline for the flipped police car. The cop in the driver’s seat had already turned into a zombie, strapped in by his seatbelt. Seeing fresh meat so close, he could only open his ragged mouth and let out some useless, hungry howls.

Matthew took a deep breath, gripped his silenced assault rifle, aimed at the cop’s forehead, and pulled the trigger.

Last week’s citywide order said all cops had to be armed while on duty. Christopher had stopped here partly to check for any survivors in the police car and partly to grab bullets from the dead cop.

Since dawn, they’d only resupplied once at a nearby precinct around noon.

Right now, Christopher, Matthew, and the other two officers had less than 200 rounds left.

They found a handgun and twenty-one rounds of ammo.

On the sidewalk about 32 feet away, a bunch of zombies were chowing down on a dead cop’s body.

There were way too many of them. Further out, there were hundreds more zombies just wandering around. They were shuffling back and forth on the grimy ground, looking for anything to munch on. They wore clothes and swayed under the sunlight. Men, women, old folks, kids—you name it. This virus didn’t care who you were; it hit everyone. Rich, poor, whatever. It just needed fresh bodies to keep spreading.

Matthew didn’t bother with the zombies on the sidewalk.

Shooting them would just bring more zombies their way.

Plus, who knew if the dead cop even had any bullets left? If they used more ammo than they found, it’d be a total waste.

Christopher stayed in the driver’s seat, keeping a close eye on everything around them.

They hadn’t found any survivors on their route.

The virus spread way too fast, faster than anyone could’ve imagined.

Of course, saying they "hadn't found" survivors wasn’t entirely true.

They did come across a few people still alive.

But Christopher didn’t have the time—or really, the chance—to help them.

All the survivors were under attack by zombies.

In a small diner, Christopher’s team saved three people, only to find out they’d all been bitten. Christopher had no choice but to leave them behind.

Someone was running and yelling for help on the street. Christopher stopped the car and shot the zombies chasing them. By the time they got to the person, he’d already turned into a zombie and bit the officer who tried to pull him up.

At a hotel entrance, they ran into dozens of people who had escaped from nearby. There were too many of them, and the car couldn’t fit everyone. While Christopher was calling for backup, a small car pulled up from behind. The driver, covered in blood, stumbled out, screaming for help. He’d already lost an arm to the zombies, and at least eight zombies jumped out of his car.

It must’ve been an unlicensed cab.

The crowd of survivors scattered instantly. Christopher had no choice but to order Matthew to start the police car while he fired shots. Whether it was bad luck or the sudden chaos, not a single person managed to get into the police car. They all ran to places they thought were safe, using whatever they could to fend off the zombies. In the end, none of them made it out of there.

Christopher was boiling inside.

He wanted to save people but hadn’t managed to save a single soul.

And on top of that, they’d wasted a ton of bullets.

They had to get back to the police station. It was fortified and had a big stash of ammo and weapons. With a coordinated effort, they could at least save some folks.

Communication was down, and trying to navigate a chaotic city solo was like facing a zombie army on your own.

Christopher took over driving from Matthew, weaving the car through streets and alleys. At this point, they couldn’t be picky. Whether it was a greenbelt or a sidewalk, if the car could fit, it was a road.

The big cross sign of Auroravale General Hospital came into view. Seeing the street clogged with cars, Christopher yanked the steering wheel, aiming for a side road.

Just then, a clear female voice crackled through the car’s radio.

“We are at Auroravale General Hospital, requesting assistance. Repeat, we are at Auroravale General Hospital. If anyone hears this, please help us.”

Christopher slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching and leaving a 40-foot skid mark as the car came to a halt.

Someone was sending a distress signal.

Christopher turned around from the driver’s seat and looked at Matthew and the others in the back, gruffly asking, “What do you think, should we help them?”

He used a questioning tone, not his usual commanding one.

Everyone knew the danger at this point.

No one knew where the virus came from or how to deal with it. Of the six team members who had set out with Christopher at dawn, only Matthew and one other were left. The fourth officer had been picked up along the way.

No one wanted to die; everyone wanted to survive.

Christopher knew he couldn’t make this call alone.

So, he left the choice to the others.

Matthew and the others exchanged glances, seeing confusion and uncertainty in each other’s eyes.

What should they do?

Watch the people calling for help get torn apart by zombies?

Or use their last bit of strength to give them hope, only to get swarmed by the horde?

Matthew didn’t speak. He furrowed his brows, listening carefully to the voice on the radio.

It was clear the person calling for help was a woman.

Matthew felt like he knew that voice, like he’d heard it somewhere before.

No one spoke, and Christopher shook his head inwardly, then said, “How about this? Give me half of your bullets, and you stay in the car and wait for me. I’ll go in and check the situation. If possible…”

“Wait!”

Matthew raised his right hand, making a silencing gesture, and interrupted Christopher, saying uncertainly, “Captain, I think I know this person.”

“You know her?”

Christopher was a bit surprised, then shook his head, “Don’t talk nonsense. I know you have an old classmate at Auroravale General Hospital, but he’s a guy. The person calling for help is clearly a woman.”

Matthew didn’t argue. He crouched down, squeezed through the barrier between the compartments, sat in the front passenger seat, picked up the radio, and pressed the call button, asking in a rough voice, “Hey, is James there?”

The female voice on the radio went silent. After a moment, a familiar voice came through, “This is James. What, are you Matthew? Are you nearby?”

A smile spread across Matthew’s rugged face, “Right next to your hospital. I thought the voice sounded familiar, like your girlfriend?”

Matthew had met Emily once and exchanged a few words. The memory was vague but not completely unfamiliar.

James’s voice was very clear on the radio, “There are three of us, none of us are injured or bitten. Can you help us?”

Before Matthew could respond, Christopher snatched the radio from his hand, “We don’t have many people, and we’re running low on bullets. Do you have a good plan?”

James’s reply was short and to the point, “Just cover us at the hospital entrance. We should be able to handle the distance from inside to the entrance. But we can’t make too much noise; if we get surrounded by zombies, we’re in trouble.”

That was James’s main concern.

There were quite a few cars in the hospital parking lot, but he didn’t have the keys, nor did he have the movie-like skill of hotwiring a car. Without a vehicle and without cover, even if they escaped the hospital, their exhausted bodies wouldn’t be able to handle the approaching horde.

But if someone could pick them up in a car outside, it would be different.

No matter how fast zombies were, they couldn’t outrun a car.

Christopher checked his watch and asked seriously, “How long do you need to get out?”

James calculated the time and quickly estimated the distance from the broadcast room to the hospital entrance, “Eight minutes should be enough.”