Jango, known among his comrades as "The Black Wolf," was a member of a mercenary group that called themselves The Wolves. He was dreaming of fat gold bars from Amun Assa the moment they delivered this "slutty doctor" to him.
Just hope Red—Red the psycho—doesn't kill her first, he thought, lighting a cigarette from the pocket of his flak jacket.
"Wolf One calling Wolf Two," a voice crackled from the radio inside a lifted black Toyota pickup truck.
"Black Wolf here."
"What's your status?"
"Fat Jimmy and Crow are dead. Just me and Psycho Red left."
"Who killed them?"
"Some scavenger. But Red took care of him. He's having fun with the guy's girl now. Turns out she's a doctor too."
"We're looking for a place to crash tonight. Can we come join the fun?"
"Hell yeah."Jango gave his coordinates and ended the transmission.
Knowing backup from the Gray Wolves was on its way gave him a great sense of relief. Judging by the silenced weapons and military-grade optics that scavenger used to kill two of his buddies, Jango—or the Black Wolf, as he liked to call himself—figured that if reinforcements didn't arrive soon, he and Red might not be able to handle what was coming.
Red, of course, didn't know that. All he knew was how to use brute force. He thought he could kill anyone.
Ladak Village lay thirty kilometers west of their location. Though the road wound steeply up and down through the mountains, Izzy's expert driving brought the team to an abandoned workers' shelter about 500 meters from the village just past 6:00 p.m., as the sun began to sink behind the hills.
Molly and Lemo stayed behind to watch the vehicle and provide thermal drone recon. Meenda and Mari were positioned on the rooftop of the first house to provide overwatch. Gunsuke and Izzy would infiltrate from the rear of the house to the right of their target.
Although Sofia's last radio transmission had mentioned only two enemies, Gunsuke had already discussed with Lemo the idea of using this opportunity to pressure-test the girls under real combat stress. It was risky—but a calculated risk.
"Stand by," Gunsuke's voice came through the comms, and Izzy turned to glance at him.
Gone was the cheerful instructor from that morning's training. Now, Gunsuke was pure steel—a killing machine.
"You ready?" he asked, crouching beside her in waist-high grass.
Izzy nodded, clutching her AK with its silencer and wondering what was waiting for them behind that concrete wall.
"Positions ready," came Meenda's shaky voice over the comms. She was trembling, barely able to hold her rifle. Her heart pounded like it would burst from her chest. She and Mari had just dispatched a zombie family of three downstairs before reaching the rooftop pool area of the house.
"Are you okay, Meenda?" Lemo asked over the radio, concerned by the sound of her heavy breathing.
"I'm fine—just a little nauseous." She wiped the sweat from her face with her sleeve and dropped into prone position.
"Don't worry, I've got your back," Mari chimed in brightly. This petite cooking enthusiast had just popped headshots on the zombie family with such speed and precision that even Gunsuke had to admit defeat.
From day one, hitting her targets had become addictive for Mari. She'd cried herself to sleep the first night after failing to land a single hit. But after Gunsuke suggested she try a low-recoil light machine gun and a compact sidearm that fit her hand perfectly, her performance flipped overnight.
She trained harder than anyone—twice as long, twice as intense. Mari had seen her father bitten and killed by a zombie with her own eyes. That memory made it easy for her to imagine her targets as undead. The stench, the gore—she could handle it. And she could shoot.
The recoil, the gunpowder, the impact—they flooded her with adrenaline and endorphins. Her pupils dilated. Her senses sharpened. She felt alive—and she wanted to kill more. As many as she could.
"Do you see the guy near the pickup truck?" Molly asked, watching the 15-inch laptop that showed the thermal feed from the drone. She clearly saw a red human-shaped silhouette sitting on the tailgate, holding a machine gun.
"Where exactly?" Meenda responded.
Molly hesitated, then repeated Lemo's whispered direction. "At your eleven o'clock."
"Got him," Meenda replied. She zeroed in with her semi-auto rifle, centering the crosshairs over the chest of the man sitting on the truck bed. She had practiced this exact shot nearly a hundred times—both with day scopes and infrared night optics.
"Take the shot when ready," Gunsuke's voice came through again. He and Izzy had already made it over the wall and were crouched beside the target house's outer wall. From about fifty meters away, Gunsuke could clearly see the man on the truck.
He could've taken the shot himself—it would've been easy. But he wanted Meenda to do it.And if she missed, he was ready to finish it himself.