Chapter 46 — The Road of Flesh and Blood
The second floor was no safer.
Lilly's shotgun shells were gone in less than a minute.
She fell back in panic, snatched Larry's rifle off the floor, and fired wildly down the corridor.
Larry slumped against the wall, his leg only crudely wrapped — the bandage already soaked through, red spreading down his entire pant leg.
His face was ghost-white, drenched in cold sweat, trembling from blood loss and pain.
"Dad — what do we do?!" Lilly sobbed, voice cracking.
"You idiot — stop worrying about the front!" Larry snarled, every word scraping his throat raw — the anger forcing him to stay conscious.
He jerked a trembling finger toward the staircase.
"Guard the damn stairs! If those things get up here — we're dead! ALL of us!"
Doug held the little revolver in both hands, but it shook uncontrollably.
From below, the sound of windows shattering and walkers pouring in grew louder and closer.
"But— b-but… Hank and the others — they're still downstairs!" Doug stuttered.
"No buts!" Larry roared — the shout ripping his wounds open, forcing another cry of pain out of him.
"It's either hold that stairway — or die screaming! Block it! Push that cabinet! GO!"
Lilly and Doug had no time to argue.
Frantic and terrified, they threw their bodies into the heavy wooden wardrobe, slowly dragging it toward the top of the staircase to build a thin, fragile barricade.
Downstairs — already a collapsing war zone — lost half its fire support in an instant.
The defense turned into a sieve.
"SHIT!!!"
Hank's scream was pure fury and disbelief when he noticed the muzzle flashes upstairs vanish.
He spun around and fired repeatedly at walkers bursting through broken windows at his back.
But that split second cost him — several walkers at the front latched onto the shredded wire fence, shrieking as they forced their way through.
Hank had no choice — he snapped back toward the gate, P226 erupting with violent precision, blowing apart the skulls of the three closest threats and barely — barely — stabilizing the collapsing front line.
[Handgun Skill Level Up]
[Handgun Skill Lv. 40 — 1000 / 40000]
• Can reliably hit a coin at 15 meters
• Can fluidly transition between multiple targets
• Can maintain precision while moving at a jog
[Handgun Skill Passive Unlocked]
"Mozambique Drill"
(Two shots to the torso, one to the head — three rounds delivered with surgical precision into the T-zone in under one second.)
Hank had no time to process the flood of system prompts.
The danger behind him was already at their backs.
Glass shattering.
Walkers screaming from inside the motel.
Lilly blocking the staircase had doomed everyone still fighting downstairs.
"KENNY!!!" Hank roared while firing, veins bulging on his neck.
"Don't argue — DRIVE! Smash the gate! We need to break out NOW!"
There was no other way.
If they stayed — they died.
Their only chance was to turn the RV into a battering ram and make a road out of corpses.
Kenny heard the command — and the terror from inside the motel.
He glanced into the rearview mirror.
Katjaa and Carley were firing out the RV windows, barely keeping the rear clear.
There was no time to hesitate.
"EVERYONE HOLD ON!" Kenny bellowed.
He slammed the RV into D, stomped the gas to the floor.
The engine roared like a beast in pain, tires shrieking before the massive vehicle lurched forward.
But Kenny didn't charge the gate yet.
He jerked the wheel — and reversed first.
BANG! CRASH!
The RV's rear smashed two walkers sneaking up behind them, clearing space — and building momentum.
Then he spun the wheel, aiming the RV directly at the half-broken motel gate and the sea of bodies behind it.
"OUT OF MY WAY—!!!" Kenny screamed.
He floored the gas.
BOOM!!!
The collision shook the world.
The already weakened gate exploded into splinters, wooden shards flying like shrapnel.
Dozens of walkers were hit like bowling pins, bodies crushed beneath the wheels.
Blood and limbs sprayed across the windshield.
The bumper bent inward. The glass smeared red.
But the RV did not stop.
It plowed through the corpse wall, forcing open a highway of flesh and bone.
"HANK! MOVE!" Kenny shouted.
Hank sprinted through the same opening, firing in full stride, and dove onto the bed of the pickup.
"LEE! FLOOR IT! FOLLOW THE RV!"
Lee slammed the gas pedal — the pickup roared after the RV.
Hank flicked his arm.
A gun sling uncoiled, and the M590 shotgun snapped perfectly into his grip.
KA-CHUNK — BOOM!!!
Lee's pickup slammed into the side lane, overtaking the RV.
It smashed aside three walkers in front and took point.
The pickup was now the spearhead —
and Hank was the blade.
He stopped conserving ammo.
Under the blood-red moon, survival meant pulling the trigger until nothing moved.
KA-CHUNK — BOOM!!!
The way the shotgun bucked in his hands — almost like it wanted to kill, too.
He pumped the chamber so fast it blurred.
Every blast rattled bones, ruptured eardrums, and cleared meters of road.
[Shotgun Skill Level Up]
Lv. 20 — 100 / 20000
[Passive Unlocked — Suppression Blast]
Significantly reduces recoil through technique, enabling accurate rapid bursts
Hank no longer aimed at individuals.
He shot the crowd.
One blast — three walkers stumbling dead.
Another — two launched off their feet and splattered against trees.
The muzzle flashed.
Bodies flew.
A rain of shell casings clattered against the metal bed.
But the red-moon walkers never stopped.
They poured from drainage ditches.
From the treeline.
From destroyed houses.
Claws raked the hood.
Faces smashed against the windows.
The truck shook as bodies slammed onto the doors.
One walker clawed its way over the tailgate, half its face missing, teeth bared.
Hank swung around — placed the muzzle against its chest — BOOM
The blast left a crater of hollowed ribs and hurled the corpse into the night.
Then — the shotgun clicked empty.
Shells rattled as Hank grabbed two from his bandolier, shoved them into the tube without looking, pumped, and resumed firing — all while standing on a violently shaking pickup.
But there were too many.
The truck slowed — dragging what felt like a mountain of bodies.
"LEFT SIDE — HANK, LEFT!!!" Lee screamed from inside the cab.
Hank whirled — eyes widening.
A cluster of sprinting walkers was racing in from the forest — not five, not ten — dozens.
And they weren't shambling.
They were running at full speed.