CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: THE GATHERING STORM

The Aftermath of the Mission

The air was tense as Jace, Kunle, Reed, and the remaining soldiers returned to base. The mission had been successful, but no one felt victorious. Dele, the young recruit who had panicked, sat silently and withdrawn in the corner of the transport truck.

Jace glanced at him but said nothing. He had seen this look before- the weight of guilt pressing down.

The city beyond the barricades looked eerily still as they rolled through the gates. The world had changed, but danger was never far away.

At the base, Wallace Adams stood waiting. "Good work," he said, nodding at the team. "The meds are already being stored and distributed."

Jace didn't smile. "We weren't alone out there."

Wallace frowned. "What do you mean?"

Kunle stepped forward. "Someone was watching us- a group that dresses in robes and wears a wooden mask. We've encountered them before, and they're dangerous.

Reed gritted his teeth. "Egun-egun."

Wallace's expression darkened. He motioned for them to follow him into a private room.

Inside the briefing room, Wallace activated a holographic map. "The Egun-egun aren't just some random cult. They're organized, disciplined, and brutal."

The map zoomed in on a ruined section of the city. "They move in packs, travel at night, and have their own twisted beliefs. They see themselves as the chosen survivors- blessed by death itself."

Jace crossed his arms. "And what do they want?"

Wallace sighed. "Control."

Reed clenched his fists. "They let us go because they want to follow us. They wanted to know where we live."

Silence filled the room.

Kunle finally spoke. "So what's our next move?"

Wallace looked at them seriously. "We prepare for war."

The night was restless. The settlement stood in eerie silence, save for the occasional howl of the wind through the broken streets. Jace sat by the lookout tower, gripping his rifle, his eyes scanning the darkness beyond the perimeter. The young recruits, still recovering from the exhaustion of their previous mission, were inside, trying to find sleep in a world that never truly allowed rest.

Then came the sound.

A slow, distant growl was followed by another and another. The earth trembled as countless feet dragged against their walls until it fell. A horde was migrating towards them.

Jace's breath steadied as he raised his binoculars, his heart pounding when he saw them. Dozens at first, then hundreds, a wave of rotting flesh moving like a plague, driven by hunger.

And standing at a distance, watching silently, were the masked warriors of the Egun-egun clan.

They did nothing, no weapons raised, no battle cry, no attack. Just silent figures in tattered, ceremonial robes, their skeletal masks reflecting the moonlight. They stood on the edge of the ruined overpass, like judges observing a trial.

Jace cursed under his breath.

"They're just watching?" Reed whispered beside him.

"They want us to suffer," Kunle muttered, gripping his machete. "They don't want this fight. They want us to deal with it on our own."

From behind, Wallace Adams, the military leader, approached. His face hardened as he saw the figures standing beyond the horde.

"This is a warning," Wallace said. "They want us to know we are not welcome near their lands."

A loud moan erupted from the front lines of the walkers. The dead had caught their scent.

"Position!" Wallace barked.

Jace and the others spread out, taking cover behind the barricades. The sound of cocking guns, blades drawn their sheaths, and deep, steadying breaths filled the air.

Then, the horde rushed forward.

The first wave slammed against the barricades like a living tsunami. Jace fired into the mass, each bullet striking rotting skulls, but for every walker that fell, three more replaced it.

Kunle, Reed, and the younger recruits hacked at the creatures with machetes and spears, severing heads and limbs in desperate, close-quarter combat. Blood sprayed, the stench unbearable, but they could not stop.

A young soldier, Omar, tripped over debris. A walker lunged at him.

"Jace!" he screamed.

Jace dashed forward, grabbing the undead by its skull and driving his knife straight into its temple. He yanked Omar up.

"Keep your damn footing!" Jace growled. "Stay sharp!"

Across the battlefield, Kunle fought with unmatched precision. His axe whirled like a cyclone, slicing through walkers in rapid succession. He moved with the grace of a fighter, his strikes fluid yet deadly.

"Kunle!" Reed called out as he stomped on a walker's skull. "Save some for the rest of us!"

He smirked, impaling two walkers at once, twisting the blade, then kicking their bodies off.

Above them, the Egun-Egun clan still watched.

They never lifted a finger.

They never fired a shot.

They were only witnesses to the slaughter.

By morning, the battlefield was silent.

Bodies of the dead covered the ground in heaps, their rotting flesh steaming under the early sunlight.

Jace wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, breathing heavily as he looked around. The Egun-Egun clan was gone.

Wallace spat on the ground, his expression bitter. "They sent us a message," he muttered. "We fight our battles alone. We do not bring our problems to their land."

Jace sheathed his machete. "We need to burn the bodies before the smell starts disturbing."

The others groaned but understood. The work wasn't over. It was never over.

As they piled up the corpses, stacking them like firewood, the air was heavy with exhaustion and the stench of death.

Kunle, his hands caked in dried blood, muttered, "If this is life now, maybe the dead have it easier."

Reed slapped him on the back. "Then we make it better."

Jace lit a match and tossed it into the pile.

The flames roared to life, consuming the remnants of the battle. The smoke curled into the sky, carrying with it the only certainty in this new world.

Survive or become one of them.