Luck stared at the screen, face warm with secondhand embarrassment. They were using all of her holes now, and she was moaning like crazy.
In a way that was honestly impressive of her, considering those men looked like they hadn’t bathed in weeks.
’What am I doing? Watching strangers fuck ? ’
Their desperate longing for connection wasn’t his business.
’This is pathetic,’ he hit the space bar to switch feeds. This one showed the area outside the walls.
The night vision cast everything in an eerie green glow, highlighting movement along the streets.
Zombies crawled through the place—over walls, rubble, and broken ground. At first, they didn’t seem too interested in his walls. But he knew better than to let his guard down.
There was no way the night would pass without trouble—not when the whole point of the mission was to stay alive.
They weren’t shambling aimlessly anymore. Some even stared straight at his wall, like they knew someone was there.
"Shit," Luck muttered, leaning closer to the screen.
He counted at least sixty visible on the main road, with more emerging from side streets and abandoned buildings.
Every few minutes, they would stop, lift their heads, sniffing the air, then change direction simultaneously.
It reminded him of the swarm AI behavior in RPG games when enemy NPCs detected player movement.
Then came a crashing sound outside—zombies got caught in the barbed wire.
That ended the group’s little orgy. They scrambled to get dressed, faces red with embarrassment as Luck stepped out.
Yuna especially—she yanked the blanket over her chest, face burning red, like that would somehow make her look less of a slut.
Too late. He already seen how she suck their manhood—like a wild animal. Her mouth was filthy.
He wasn’t against groupies, just preferred it when it was four women and him—not the other way around.
"Don’t worry. This won’t be enough to break the wall," Luck said. "But we can’t ignore them either. They’ll attract more."
Fernando glanced at him. "So what’s the plan?"
"Easy. You take these and start shooting," he tossed them a large bag.
When they unzipped it, they found wooden bows and a bundle of arrows inside.
"Quiet shots. No noise. And we can collect the arrows in the morning."
They all nodded, getting the idea.
"We don’t know how to use bows," Dima frowned.
"That won’t be a problem. You’d have to be blind to miss at this range, with how packed they are out there."
Dima didn’t argue. He just sighed and took one of the bows, turning it over in his hands.
Gregor tested the tension of the string and nodded to himself. "Still better than nothing,"
Luck handed out the arrows. "Aim for the head if you can. If not, just slow them down."
Yuna stepped up beside the others, gripping her bow tighter than needed. "How many are out there?"
Luck glanced toward the wall. "Too many to count."
No one said anything after that.
They moved into position along the ledge of the watchtower, crouched behind the wooden railing.
From up there, the view was disturbingly vivid—almost painfully so.
The undead masses seethed below, a writhing sea of decay pressed fiercely against the barbwires .
Their hollow eyes glinted with a feral hunger as they groaned and clawed desperately.
Luck remained unnaturally calm, his gaze fixed like a predator’s, spotting each target through the glow in their eyes.
Then he stood, drew an arrow, and landed a clean headshot.
The momentary silence was shattered as he swiftly nocked another arrow.
Headshot. Again, and again, each arrow finding its mark.
He wielded the bow with the fluidity and expertise of a master assassin, each movement a testament to his deadly skill, leaving no room for error, no wasted motion.
"What are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re just gonna watch while I do everything." He raised an eyebrow.
That got them moving. They rushed to grab the arrows, fumbling with the strings.
Most of the shots came out clumsy. A few scraped the air, some hit the torsos—but that was mostly useless against the undead.
Luck stayed quiet. What mattered was getting them used to the bow. That would be their primary weapon. Guns were saved for emergencies only.
What he needed were useful survivors, not dead weight—so this was training, whether they realized it or not.
More arrows followed, cutting into the swarm below. Every hit made a difference, but not enough to thin the crowd.
For every one that fell, two more surged forward, trampling the bodies like discarded meat. Before long, even the barbed wire couldn’t stop them.
Gregor cursed under his breath. "They just keep coming."
Luck didn’t respond. He was already drawing another arrow, breathing slow, steady.
His next shot split a skull clean down the middle. The body collapsed without a sound, lost in the sea of others.
Yuna missed. Her arrow sailed past its target and buried into the dirt.
She hissed and nocked another, faster this time, jaw clenched. The second shot hit a shoulder. It didn’t drop the target, but it slowed it. The others finished the job.
Dima’s aim was shaky, but he kept firing. One arrow lodged in a zombie’s jaw, snapping it sideways. The creature kept moving, mouth hanging useless, teeth shattered.
’It’s starting to stink,’ he muttered. ’Good thing I covered my nose with my balaclava.’
Before long, there were no more moving zombies left in view.
Luck lowered his bow, eyes sweeping the horizon. He lifted the binoculars and searched for any signs of movement.
’It’s too easy...’ he muttered, nodding with some satisfaction. Starting out with a lot of EC points made day one easier to handle.
"Rest up. You weren’t entirely useless, but tomorrow we’ll work on your aim. Arrows don’t grow on trees."
A few of them raised their eyebrows. Technically, arrows did come from trees.
"So... does this mean we can stay here?" Fernando asked, sounding relieved.
"You can stay—for now," he said. "But I don’t want anyone sitting around doing nothing. I’m gonna teach you how to survive for real."
He tossed over a smaller bag. It hit the ground with a soft thud. Inside were five cans of pork and beans and bottled water—no labels, no expiry date. Looked like military stuff.
"I can’t have you starve to death. So eat, get some sleep. You’ll need the energy if another wave shows up."
With that, he turned around and walked back to the motel. Once the door closed behind him, he flicked on the light.
Meanwhile, the group of five sat together, happily eating the food. They were all surprised by how flavorful it was.
Their impression of Luck increased again. Before, they feared him. Now, they also saw him as a logical and capable leader—someone who knew what he was doing.
Especially Yuna. She found him very attractive.
Compared to him, the men around her were trash—filthy, loud, and nothing close to his level.
Little did they know, this was all part of his carrot-and-stick plan.
Gaining their trust was a priority before more survivors showed up. With loyal allies in place, the risk of betrayal would be much lower.