Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 326: Were they eating chicken?

"Got it."

Damon's second-in-command responded and turned to leave the room.

Meanwhile, Damon went to find the other leaders to secure some crystal cores. He stepped into the next room, where a woman was waiting. She had striking red lips, a tall, lean figure, and was dressed in a tight leather outfit that made her look sharp and capable.

She was Vanessa Vale—one of the five leaders of the Black Hand Legion.

"Genesis Biotech is pushing for the deal. Now that Harvey's gone missing, I need you to front me some crystal cores to keep things moving," Damon said bluntly.

"Oh?" Vanessa's sharp eyes flicked toward him. "Can't you cover it yourself? Big guy like you, acting all stingy."

"I'm already handling this without asking for a cut. Now you want me to pay out of pocket too?" Damon scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

"Fine, I'll cover it." Vanessa didn't argue further. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a small case.

"There are five A-grade crystal cores and ten B+ grade ones in here. That should be enough, right?"

"Yeah, that'll do. Don't worry, I'm not just taking these for free. I'll handle the deal with Genesis Biotech, and you focus on finding Harvey. Once you do, get the cores back from him."

"Finding Harvey is the easy part. You, on the other hand, better watch yourself with Genesis Biotech. Don't let them screw you over," Vanessa warned.

She wasn't worried about Damon personally—this was about protecting their shared interests. In a lawless world like this, Genesis Biotech was more than capable of pulling something shady.

"Relax, I'm not an idiot," Damon said confidently.

Vanessa nodded. "Keep your comms on. If anything goes sideways, we'll back you up."

"Got it." Damon slipped an earpiece into his ear.

The communicator was another Genesis Biotech product. The Black Hand Legion wasn't exactly a high-tech operation—they were more like a gang, lacking the resources to develop their own gear. If they needed something, they had to trade for it.

With the case in hand, Damon headed for the door.

Vanessa watched him leave, her mind turning over the situation. So far, everything was going according to plan.

The only wildcard was… where the hell had Harvey disappeared to?

"No, I need to find him myself."

...

Meanwhile, Damon's second-in-command had arrived near the compound, ready to collect the thirty human survivors they had arranged for.

Greg had been briefed on this a while ago, so everything should already be set.

The second-in-command walked up to the heavy iron gate and banged on it a few times.

"Open up!"

It took a while before footsteps sounded from inside, accompanied by an annoyed muttering—

"Who the hell is knocking while I'm trying to eat?"

The lock rattled, then the door cracked open slightly.

A young girl's face appeared in the gap—delicate features, big, bright eyes. It was Mia.

The second-in-command didn't recognize her and looked at her with mild curiosity.

"Where's your boss, Greg?"

"He's… asleep," Mia said after a brief pause, deciding that was the best excuse.

"Asleep?" The second-in-command raised an eyebrow. Middle of the day—what the hell was he sleeping for?

But there was no time to dwell on it.

"The thirty survivors we talked about—are they ready?"

"Yep, all set," Mia nodded.

"Good. I'll check on the other supplies first. Once I'm done, bring them out and come with us."

"Got it. We'll head out after we finish eating."

With that, she slammed the iron gate shut with a loud clang, as if in a hurry.

The second-in-command stood there for a moment, sniffing the air.

There was a lingering scent of chicken.

Were they eating chicken?

Damn… not bad.

...

At that moment, Ethan and the others were feasting on an all-chicken banquet. Every single one of the dozen or so chickens in the coop had been slaughtered.

Chris, despite his usual theatrics in the kitchen, was undeniably a master when it came to cooking chicken.

There was fried chicken, buffalo wings, BBQ chicken, roast chicken, chicken pot pie, lemon pepper chicken, and honey garlic drumsticks—an absolute feast.

Everyone was eating with pure satisfaction, giving enthusiastic thumbs-ups.

"Uncle Chris, I gotta hand it to you. We finally found your one true talent—you really know how to handle a chicken."

"Heh, keep it low-key, keep it low-key," Chris chuckled awkwardly. Why did that not sound like a compliment?

Brandon grinned. "Uncle, maybe you should just change your name. Forget Chris—just go by 'Chicken' from now on!"

"Uh… how about you learn some damn manners?" Chris shot back, exasperated.

The whole group burst into laughter, the mood light and cheerful.

But then Mia spoke up. "Alright, time to move. That Black Hand Legion guy told me to bring thirty people out."

The laughter died instantly.

"Huh?" The tension in the room spiked.

"What… what do they want with us?"

"They're taking us to trade with Genesis Biotech. Looks like they moved up the schedule," Mia explained.

"Oh…"

Everyone had eaten their fill, but now they had to face the real danger ahead. Leaving the compound with the Black Hand Legion meant a high risk of exposure. And once they reached the trade site… they'd have to deal with Genesis Biotech's enforcers.

"Screw it. If it comes down to it, we fight."

"Yeah. If I'm going down, I'm taking one of them with me."

"Either way, I'm never letting these bastards get their hands on me again."

The survivors were fired up, ready to risk everything.

Ethan, seeing the tension, smirked and said, "Look at it this way—when we got here, they escorted us in. Now they're escorting us out. That's what I call top-tier customer service."

"Uh…" Everyone blinked, momentarily thrown off.

Now that he put it that way… it kinda made sense.

With that, they got to work. They smeared dirt on their faces, making themselves look weak and exhausted. Then they found some chains and loosely wrapped them around their wrists, faking captivity.

The plan was simple—blend in with the trade convoy and slip out of the city.

...

Outside the compound, the scene was bustling. The trade wasn't just for crystal cores and live captives—there were also rare metals and other valuable goods being exchanged.

Black Hand Legion members were pushing broken-down carts loaded with supplies, moving at a slow but steady pace.

With fuel being a rare commodity in the apocalypse, vehicles were mostly useless. Transportation was done on foot, and communication was basically just shouting.

The only exception was Damon.

Dressed in a leather jacket and sunglasses, he rode a heavily modified Harley through the convoy. The bike was rusted, patched with extra metal plates, and had a full-on wasteland aesthetic.

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"Move it! Quit dragging your damn feet!" Damon weaved through the crowd on his bike, kicking up clouds of dust.

"Cough! Cough!" People waved their hands in front of their faces, trying to clear the air.

At that moment, Mia led the disguised survivors out of the compound and into the convoy.

Damon's second-in-command gave them a quick once-over, counting heads. Seemed about right. He pointed to the side.

"You lot, over there."

"Oh…" Chris followed his gaze and saw a cart.

"Damn, we actually get to ride in a cart?"

The second-in-command turned to him with a look that screamed Are you an idiot?

"I said push the cart."

"...Oh."

...