Chapter 44 — The Blood Moon Descends
Pop.
A faint, brittle crack — then every flickering bulb in the courtyard and motel rooms died at once.
Darkness swallowed the world.
Only vehicle headlights and the intermittent flashes of gunfire remained to slash through the black.
The power was gone.
"God damn it," Kenny hissed from behind the pickup.
With no lighting, the defenders were effectively blind — and the attackers already had superior firepower.
Anyone who dared peek out would immediately become a target.
Hank rolled back behind the RV under the cover of darkness, shielding Clementine with his entire body as bullets ripped through metal inches away.
The raiders outside the gate had the advantage — position, numbers, and firepower — and they were unloading without restraint.
"Light them up! Keep firing!"
A tattooed brute stood on top of a Jeep, screaming with rage between strings of bullets.
He didn't care who lived or died — he only cared that his little brother had been executed on his knees like a dog.
That wasn't just murder.
It was humiliation — and he would repay it in blood.
But something else changed — not just the blackout.
The moon overhead was no longer pale.
It was bleeding.
A deep crimson glow washed across the dead city, and the instant that ruby light touched the earth —
the world screamed.
"ARRRRGHHH!!!"
"GRAAAHHHH!!!"
Across the entire planet, every corpse that could move did.
The infected howled as if injected with electricity.
The Blood Moon had begun.
And Hank — enhanced by his Level 2 Intelligence perk — understood instinctively.
This wasn't a random astronomical event.
It was a cosmic surge, a periodic energy tide radiating through the atmosphere — and the virus responded to it.
A low-frequency energy pulse rippled through the world, vibrating directly through tissue rather than air.
And under that stimulus, the dormant cells in every infected body erupted, forcing a rapid, temporary mutation.
Their cellular metabolism skyrocketed.
Strength — doubled.
Aggression — tripled.
Pain tolerance — erased.
The dead didn't shuffle anymore.
They ran.
One silhouette blurred across the street and landed on the hood of a raider's SUV.
The corpse smashed both fists into the windshield — cracks spider-webbing instantly.
"What the hell is THAT?!" the driver shrieked.
Gunfire tore the corpse apart — but bullets also shredded the vehicle beneath it, blowing through the radiator and engine in the chaos.
But that was only the beginning.
More shapes burst out of the streets, the trees, the wreckage —
dozens
then hundreds.
They sprinted. They vaulted over cars. They leaped.
Drawn to vehicles, gunfire, yelling — to anything alive.
"HELP—!"
"SHOOT THEM! SHOOT THEM!"
"NO—STAY BACK—AAAAH!!"
The courtyard outside the motel gate plunged into absolute chaos.
Raiders suddenly realized that bullets to the torso barely slowed the infected.
Only a perfect headshot stopped them — and there were too many.
Motorcycles were overturned.
Car doors were ripped open.
A man was dragged screaming from the back of a truck — and thirty seconds later he stood back up, snarling, joining the frenzy.
As every raider fired outward in blind panic, the pressure on the motel vanished.
"That's our window."
Hank's eyes flashed with cold determination.
The enemy line was broken.
"KENNY! LEE! CARLEY — LISTEN UP!"
He barked orders rapid-fire:
"The infected are keeping them busy — but not for long!" "Kenny, Lee — you're with me! Shotguns — front fire support!" "Katjaa, Carley — take Duck and Clem into the RV and get down!" "Doug — help Larry! Drag him into a room and barricade it!" "Lilly — you're on the second floor with the rifle! Cover fire only!"
He didn't have to ask twice.
Training didn't matter — survival instinct obeyed him.
"Got it!"
"Understood!"
Hank, Kenny, and Lee popped out from cover at the same moment:
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Three M590 shotguns roared like thunder, the steel storm shredding several raiders who tried to push into the courtyard during the chaos.
Upstairs, Lilly fired her rifle with surprising control — hitting raiders who exposed themselves while panicking.
"Kenny! Lee! Cover me!"
Before anyone could question him — Hank broke from cover and sprinted straight toward the motel gate.
A pack of blood-moon-crazed infected burst through the opening at the same time, shrieking.
BOOM! BOOM!
Hank dropped the first two mid-charge with chest-to-head blasts… but more were coming.
And they weren't the only threat.
A horde of raiders and infected — colliding in the same killing ground —
and Hank was running straight into it.
Kenny and Lee's shotguns thundered, blasting the nearest blood-moon zombies off their feet.
Hank sprinted through the chaos, firing his pistol with ruthless precision.
Every shot dropped a corpse lunging into his path — and he never stopped moving.
The gate.
That was his objective.
If he could close it before the entire horde poured in, they might last another minute — maybe more.
Bullets screamed past him from every direction — stray rounds from raiders and panicked shots from those already being dragged down by the infected.
He finally reached the heavy metal gate, seized the door panel, and threw his entire weight against it.
Just as the gap was almost shut —
A blood-moon corpse broke through the crossfire, exploding toward him at unnatural speed.
Hank didn't hesitate.
He ripped the axe from his belt and buried it in the zombie's skull with a savage, single-handed swing.
The body twitched violently, but Hank kicked it off the blade and shoved it backward — and with one final push, slammed the motel gate shut.
"RAAAAH!!!"
Several infected slammed into the mesh from the outside, clawing and ripping at the metal.
Their boosted strength tore flesh from their own fingers as they scraped and pulled — strips of tissue clung to the wire like ribbons.
They were stronger — but still physical.
The barrier held… for now.
Hank spun around and checked the yard.
Katjaa and Carley had already shoved Duck and Clementine inside the RV — thank God.
Hank fired as he retreated backward, putting rounds cleanly into the heads of the zombies pressed against the fencing.
He fell back until he regrouped with Kenny and Lee beside the pickup.
The three of them stood shoulder-to-shoulder —
three M590 shotguns unloading in perfect sync, tearing into anything that reached the gate.
"BOSS! WE CAN'T HOLD THIS MUCH LONGER! TOO MANY OF THEM!!"
"Fall back! FALL BACK!"
A panicked raider shouted from somewhere outside.
Engines revved.
Gunshots rattled.
Screams echoed down the street… then faded.
The raiders were gone.
Not because the survivors had defeated them —
but because the blood-moon horde forced them to run.
Yet the danger had only just begun.
With the car engines moving away, the infected began to lose interest in the fleeing raiders.
And now, hundreds of crimson eyes turned toward the motel.
Under the red moonlight, the dead fixed their gaze on the living inside the courtyard.
They roared — and charged the motel from all directions.
"RAAAAAH!!!"
They slammed into the walls.
They clawed at windows.
They climbed over wreckage, over each other, forming a writhing ladder of bodies.
The Blood Moon horde had arrived.
There were no more raiders to distract them.
No more noise outside to divide their attention.
Every shred of instinct now told the infected the same thing:
Fresh prey is inside the motel.