Out on the open field, a dense horde of zombies howled and shrieked like a storm of madness.
If you looked closely, you'd see seven figures at the heart of the chaos—Ethan, Chris, Henry, Garrick, Sean, Big Mike, and Skinny Pete—swinging barbell bars with wild, relentless force, smashing down the undead swarming around them.
The ground beneath their feet was already carpeted with corpses.
They stood atop a thick layer of dead zombies, and though the terrain had offered no natural advantage, they'd made one for themselves—elevated by sheer body count.
More and more zombies fell, but their arms were going numb from the effort.
There were just too many this time.
Thankfully, there were seven of them now. When someone hit their limit, they could retreat to the center of the circle for a breather.
Henry had to duck back every so often to heal the group. With this kind of fight, injuries were inevitable.
