The hair length didn't match the photos that had been sent to me either.
They looked more like they belonged to the squad leader standing beside Muriel.
My brain detonated.
I had to confront that man myself.
I had to find out who he really was.
But at that moment, up on the wall, a blade flew with surgical precision.
The cloth strips shredded apart.
Their only connection—severed in a single cut.
The bait thrashed forward, bending desperately at the waist, but his empty sleeves caught nothing.
Gravity did the rest. The bundle hit the ground with a wet thud and burst open in a spray of red.
"AHHH!"
He convulsed like he'd been electrocuted, thrashing wildly, his screams so raw they barely sounded human.
At the same instant, I let out a guttural snarl.
Every zombie holding position went berserk, surging toward the gate in a frenzy.
"There it is! That bastard really can command the undead. Too bad for him—"
The squad leader beside Muriel cursed under his breath.
The guards were well-trained. Rifles up. A wall of gunfire.
But the zombies weren't attacking the walls.
They swarmed over one another, climbing shoulder to shoulder, stacking into a grotesque living ladder.