Dale's voice wasn't loud, but Lin Feng's excitement hit its peak.

Did anyone think this was just a confirmation call? No. This was pulling him back from the edge.

Lin Feng stepped forward fast, grabbed Dale's hand, and shook it hard twice.

The old man's face had gone full red, lit up with a grin Dale couldn't have suppressed if trying.

The battered radio in Dale's hands sputtered in broken bursts:

"Bzzzt... This is Harran... Is anyone... bzzzt... can you hear this... bzzzt... We need backup... bzzzt... If anyone is willing to make contact... bzzzt... please tune to frequency... 6.3... 56.3... bzzzt... time is limited... tomorrow at the same... distress call..."

The radio coughed up fragments until nothing remained but static, a harsh, grating wall of white noise.

Lin Feng's excitement slowly drained away. Because there was a very important problem staring right at him: the radio in Dale's hands was a receiver only. No transmission capability whatsoever.

Which meant he could hear the broadcast. He just couldn't respond to it.

Hss — that was a problem.

"Eugene! Andrew! Over here a second!"

The two had been deep in a discussion about modifying the harvester. Both turned at the call, exchanged a look, and walked over together.

"What's going on, Lin?"

"I need a two-way radio setup. Either of you have any ideas how to make that happen?"

Andrew's brow pulled into a slow frown, eyes tracking up and down Lin Feng like someone sizing up a troublemaker who'd just wandered in.

When Andrew finally spoke, it was with considerable restraint. "What exactly makes you think I look like Santa Claus, Lin?"

Eugene frowned too, staring at the radio in Dale's hands, working through it. After a long pause:

"Theoretically, if both parties are operating on the same frequency of the same signal, real-time two-way communication becomes possible.

Working from that — if we fit this receiver with a signal transmitter and tie it into a signal receiver on the other end, there's a reasonable chance we could establish two-way communication."

Lin Feng studied Eugene. "So how do we find a signal receiver?"

"...Small-town radio station. School broadcasting room. Rooftop commercial shops. Any of those."

"Okay." Lin Feng looked at Eugene with a half-smile. "So how about I leave that whole thing to you?"

A sheen of cold sweat broke out across Eugene's forehead. The color drained from Eugene's face a shade.

Eugene had not expected that one offhand comment would result in Lin Feng just handing over the assignment, right then and there, no hesitation whatsoever.

Couldn't Lin Feng at least question the plan a little? Express some doubt about Eugene's actual capability?

What even was this? Digging a hole and burying oneself in it?

Under Lin Feng's steady, expectant gaze, Eugene hesitated, voice dropping low.

"...This isn't exactly my area of expertise. I can't guarantee success. All I can say is I'll do my best to try."

Lin Feng nodded, not a trace of skepticism anywhere on his face. "Good. Then it's yours."

Eugene blinked. Then a slow wave of bitterness washed through. That was not how the script was supposed to go.

You were supposed to question my plan first. Then doubt my competence. Then crank up the pressure, threaten to kill me if it wasn't done by tonight.

Then I would have dug deep, found every angle, delivered the goods just before the deadline, delivered a resounding slap in the face, and swept Rosita into my arms on the way to the peak of life.

Not stood here while you took my word for it and genuinely believed it could be done.

Face puckered like a bitter gourd, Eugene began puzzling over what a signal transmitter module actually looked like. The part with the antenna, right?

Lin Feng, however, had already moved on. This was always how he operated: professional work to professional people, hand it off and let it run. He didn't understand the technical side anyway. Weighing in would only point things in the wrong direction and put his own ignorance on display.

Better to just follow the lead of people who actually knew what they were doing, stay in his lane, and play logistics and cheerleader. That was the right call.

"If you need to scavenge for materials, ask Shane to help coordinate the manpower. Shane will sort you out." Lin Feng patted Eugene on the shoulder and walked away.

Eugene's gaze drifted toward the crew-cut man who was always camped in front of his own tent, eyes unfocused, face heavy with stubble, radiating a quiet kind of wreckage. That guy?

Shane felt the stare land. The fellow Lin Feng had brought back two days ago. All talk, no action type. Shane's brow ticked down slightly. Why was that guy looking over here? Looking for a problem?

An irrational flicker of irritation surfaced, and Shane's grip on the bottle tightened just a fraction.

A few seconds passed. Their eyes crossed. Then Shane went back to drinking.

No addiction like Merle had. But without a drink at night, sleep simply did not come.

The moment eyes closed, the mind filled with memories sharp enough to tear a person apart, and the cold weight of everything real.

It hurt. Too much.

"Shane, drinking on an empty stomach is bad for you. Have something to eat, line your stomach — you'll sleep better." Carol stepped forward, holding out a plate, nudging it gently toward Shane.

Shane's hand on the bottle went still. Reaching out to take the plate, Shane murmured a quiet thanks. "Thank you, Carol."

Carol smiled, warm and unhurried, and shook her head. "Don't mention it. It's what I should be doing. I hope you find your footing again soon, like you used to be."

Shane pulled a smile that didn't quite sit right. Nodded slowly, something complicated moving behind both eyes. "I will."

Carol gave a soft hum and walked away.

After dinner, quiet settled across the camp. Merle and Jim picked up their rifles and headed for the watchtower.

The first half of the night was theirs to hold. Lin Feng had made a point of adding a few extra words of caution: the noise they'd been making these past few days was significant, and there was a real chance a horde had already been drawn toward them. Better to stay sharp.

When it came to the job, Merle never cut corners. But that didn't mean Merle had any patience for what felt like Lin Feng's nagging.

A pinky finger dug into one ear, message received apparently, and Merle shouldered the rifle and climbed the tower.

Lin Feng opened his mouth. Thought better of it. Let Merle go.

The camp sank into silence. The only sound left was the single long log in the campfire, still popping and crackling in the dark.

The moon climbed. It hung high and still above the world. Darkness lay across the earth, and beneath the thin, misty gauze of moonlight, shadows moved.

➤ Next: Night Horde 3.0

Chapter 84 - Night Horde 3.0

Merle had a head that wasn't always screwed on right, foul mouth, hot temper, fists that did more talking than words ever did. But there was no denying it: Merle's combat instincts were always on point.

From spotting the dark shapes to confirming what they were took under three seconds. By the fourth, Merle had already raised a weapon and fired a warning shot.

"Night raid! On alert!"

Gunshots and shouted warnings rang out three times in quick succession. Then Merle dropped low, crouching inside the watchtower with only half a head showing above the edge, watching the darkness.

Because if that wasn't a walker horde out there, if it was people, standing tall would just make for a living target.

The inside of the watchtower was lined with steel plates Andrew had scrounged a few days back with T-Dog and Otis. Exact grade unknown, but the layering was thick, a full centimeter. Theoretically enough to eat most small-arms fire. If someone brought explosives to the party, well. Nothing more to say about that.

Jim's reaction ran a beat slow, but watching Merle drop down, Jim immediately dropped too.

Right. The boss definitely had a reason for that.

When the thunderclap of gunfire and shouts tore open the night, the camp kicked into motion like a wound-up war machine. Fully geared men emerged one after another, weapons in hand, jogging in to take up positions along the defensive line in front of the camp.

"What's the situation?!"

Merle leveled the weapon and stared straight ahead. Less than two hundred meters out, a dense mass of dark silhouettes was creeping forward.

"Pack of walkers came out of nowhere and they're heading right for us! Looking at the numbers — at least two hundred!"

"Fuck! I'll—"

"Waaargh—"

A piercing howl split the silence.

The camp froze. Every person stiffened where they stood, as if someone had hit a pause button.

The sound was shrill. And it carried something else underneath, an indescribable mournfulness, like something calling out into the dark.

Daryl's brow furrowed. "Fuck! What the hell is that?! A walker that can scream like that?!"

Lin Feng didn't answer. His face had gone tight. "Doesn't matter what it is. Find it and put it down. If we don't, it'll keep drawing walkers in."

He ran for the watchtower, snatched up the binoculars, and swept them across the swarming horde, scanning methodically, hunting for the howling mutated infected.

"The hell you gonna find?! Can you even see anything out there?!"

Lin Feng didn't explain. He just kept searching. Seven points of Perception was more than enough to run a tactical scan in low-light conditions.

To ordinary walkers, that shrill howl was a noise source, an instinctual trigger pulling them closer. Which meant the thing making it had to be somewhere in the densest part of the horde.

He worked that logic. He focused on the heaviest concentrations, the darkest clusters, and moved through them one by one. First spot, nothing. Second, nothing. Third, nothing. On the fourth, the densest cluster yet, he found it.

A female walker with neck craned forward, head jutting out, frame hunched low by about a third. Several tall male walkers stood in front of her, half-blocking her from view. If Lin Feng hadn't been elevated high enough in the watchtower, he never would have picked her out.

"Got it. Two o'clock, dense cluster in the horde, shaped like an arrowhead. It's tucked right inside."

He lowered the binoculars. "Hold fire. Let them get closer before we shoot. Don't waste the ammo."

"Holy shit! Are you an owl?!"

"I think he's bullshitting..."

A couple of jokes drifted up from below. The suffocating tension cracked, just a little.

Fear lives in the unknown. Once you name it, once you drag it out into the light, the grip it has on you starts to loosen.

The horde kept coming. As the distance closed, the shuffling footsteps of hundreds of walkers bled together into a sound like steel being sharpened against stone, a relentless grinding that scraped against the eardrums and stirred something primal deep in the chest.

A walker horde at night hit several times harder than the same numbers in daylight.

And no one could say for certain whether more walkers were following behind.

Glenn's hands shook around the grip of the gun. Cold sweat broke out across Glenn's back. A hard swallow. Glenn's face had gone pale.

Nearby, T-Dog and Jimmy weren't faring any better, sweat soaking through, pouring out until both looked like they'd just been hauled out of the river.

Marcus saw it. Reached into a pocket, pulled out a few hard candies, and held them out. "Keep these in your mouths."

They were little sweets Marcus had originally brought to coax Cathy. Now they were the closest thing to medicine anyone had. Life really was something else.

Glenn and the others reached out and took them, tore the wrappers open with their teeth, plastic and all, and popped them in, mumbling through the candy: "Thanks."

Marcus cracked a brief smile. "Don't be scared. They're just a bunch of brainless things. They can't break through our defenses."

Glenn managed a small smile back. Hard to say if it was the words or the candy, but the tension in Glenn's chest actually eased.

The trembling in Glenn's hands stopped.

Lin Feng gauged the distance. Under thirty meters. He looked down at the line of people below and shouted: "Ready, fire!"

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Rat-tat-tat-tat.

Thwip. Thwip. Thwip.

A symphony of gunfire erupted all at once. A storm of bullets hammered into the exact spot Lin Feng had called out.

At this distance, even going by sound alone, everyone could pinpoint the source of that howl.

In almost an instant, the tall walkers at the front were ripped apart. They collapsed like ragdolls.

Then, a heartbeat later, the hunched shape of the howling mutated infected came into view, and was torn apart on the spot.

The shrill wail vanished, wiped clean like chalk off a blackboard. Gone.

MUTATED INFECTED, DEAD.

Lin Feng curled a lip. "Free fire from here! Try to keep them off the trenches, if they pile in, hauling bodies tomorrow is going to be a massive headache!"

He was already firing as he said it, the M4 putting out steady semi-auto bursts, each round finding a skull, cracking it open, converting it into a trickle of experience.

The others didn't wait. They swung their muzzles around and picked their targets.

Orion and Contra, the two with the sharpest combat edge, were something else entirely. Even in the dark, even with visibility this low, they held pinpoint accuracy like they'd flipped a switch. Every magazine they ran dry carved a fresh patch of empty ground out of the horde.

Daryl, Marcus, and the others couldn't match that output, but they weren't slow either. Solid. Above the line.

These weren't people who overthought things. Mostly, if Lin Feng figured the job was doable, that was good enough.

For Glenn, T-Dog, and Jimmy, this was their first time in something this big. Hearts hammering like motors. Breath short. Hands unsteady.

But then fingers found triggers. Bullets found walkers. One after another, the dead dropped.

And somewhere in there, the fear started to fade.

Maybe it wasn't so hard after all.

A few minutes later, the horde had pushed up to the edge of the trenches. Quite a few walkers had already stumbled in and gone down. The walkers still standing on open ground were thinning out, the horde fracturing into scattered pockets, nothing like the suffocating black mass it had been before.

The tension across the line eased. People settled into a rhythm, working through the cleanup methodically.

Click. Click.

Bolts locking back on empty chambers. Those who carried sidearms as a habit, Rick, Orion, Abraham, drew them and kept shooting. But most weapons had gone quiet.

It didn't matter much. Few walkers were left standing on the ground. Up in the watchtower, Lin Feng and Merle were still swapping magazines, still clearing.

The battle was winding down.

Then Lin Feng caught it, a shadow, moving fast. Blindingly fast. Closing in.

"Fuck!"

➤ Next: The Volatile Breaches Camp