“You fight the dead,” Cain’s voice said, echoing from the radio. His tone turned slightly sad, like a father disappointed in his child. “You build thick walls. You shoot guns. You swing swords. But every time you kill one of the evolved creatures, you are spitting in the face of the grand design. You are insulting the very blessing that was sent to save your souls.”Lisa leaned forward in her wheelchair. Her dark eyes were wide."He really believes it," Lisa whispered in horror. "He is not just using the monsters to gain power. He thinks the zombies are angels."“The Dead Zones are not places of death,” Prophet Cain declared. His voice was hypnotic. It drew the listeners in. Even Marcus stopped shaking and listened closely. “They are holy ground. They are the crucibles where the weak are burned away, and only the pure, strong, and devoted remain. To embrace the sickness is to become perfect. Look at my Emissaries. They walk hand in hand with the final evolution. The monsters do not ha

"No," Jonah said. He frowned deeply.His human instincts were screaming. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Something was wrong.Prophet Cain had promised to march. He had promised to bring the cleansing fire. A fanatic army does not hide in the dark. A fanatic army marches loudly to strike fear into their enemies.So where were they?Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from the dark woods outside the wall. It was not the sound of marching boots. It was not the roar of a monster. It was the sound of a beautiful, slow, sad song.Someone was singing.Jonah tightened his grip on his rifle. He stood up slowly, looking over the top of the wooden barricade.Through the falling gray ash, a single figure walked out of the dark trees. It was not a giant army. It was not a Siege Zombie. It was a young woman.She was incredibly thin. She wore a long, dirty white dress. Her feet were completely bare, stepping on the freezing, sharp rocks, but she did not seem to feel the pain.Her face was

"Shoot their legs!" Jonah roared to the survivors on the wall. "Do not shoot their chests! Do not hit the bombs! Drop them in the dirt!"The few survivors who had stayed on the wall raised their guns. Their hands were shaking wildly. They aimed at the bloody, walking nightmares.BANG! BANG! BANG!Rifles and handguns fired into the dark night. The loud noises echoed off the mountain rocks.A bullet hit a cultist in the knee. The man’s leg shattered. He fell forward into the dirt. But the man did not scream in pain. He did not cry.He just kept smiling. He used his hands to drag his bleeding body across the gray ash. He crawled toward the wooden wall, dragging his heavy bomb and his raw meat with him."They don't stop!" an old woman on the wall screamed. She dropped her pistol and ran away toward the concrete building."Keep firing!" Jonah yelled. He picked up a heavy rock from the wall and threw it. The rock hit a woman in the shoulder, knocking her down. But she just stood back up and

Jonah lay in the dirt. His ears were ringing so loudly he could not hear his own breathing. The world spun in circles. His stomach wound tore open further. He tasted dust and blood. He slowly opened his eyes.He pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. He looked back toward the concrete building.The building was still standing. The heavy metal door was closed tight. Kevin and Elena had made it inside. They were safe.Jonah let out a long, shaky breath of relief. He had done it. He had plugged the breach. He had stopped the bomber. But as Jonah looked around the ruined camp, he realized the terrible truth.The cultists were dead. The bombers had blown themselves to pieces. The fight was over.But Prophet Cain’s plan was never to win with cultists. The cultists were just the key to open the door.The air was heavy. The smell of high explosives was thick. But beneath the smell of chemicals, there was another smell.It was the smell of fresh blood. There was blood everywhere. It cove

A tiny girl with blonde hair held a heavy, rusty pistol that was almost too big for her small hands. A little boy held a sharp, bloody machete. Another boy held a heavy iron pipe. They did not look scared. They did not cry.They looked at Jonah with wide, unblinking eyes. And they were smiling. It was the same ecstatic, brainwashed smile that the suicide bombers had worn."Oh my God," Elena whispered. She slowly lowered the barrel of her shotgun. Her hands began to shake violently. "They are just babies."Jonah’s heart felt like it was tearing in half. He had come here to wipe out a forward operating base. He had come to kill the monsters who wanted to destroy his family.But he was looking at children. Innocence had been completely weaponized. Prophet Cain did not just brainwash adults. He stole children and turned them into soldiers.A young boy stepped forward from the line of children. He was about ten years old. He held a large revolver."Welcome, Heretic," the little boy said.