The hollowed ruins of the university stretched ahead, but now Carter had a new destination—the library, where the so-called rebels had made their stand against Logan's growing tyranny within the school building.
His fifty Medjay warriors moved with silent discipline, their bronze armour gleaming dully in the dim emergency lighting, and scattered sunlight as the glowing orb began its rise into the sky signalling the 2nd day of the apocalypse.
The survivors they had picked up trailed closely behind the armed unit, still shaken but clinging to this unexpected lifeline that seemed to offer even just a tiny bit of hope.
Carter kept his eyes forward, his spear resting against his shoulder, mind churning with calculations.
Logan had started his own regime, twisting fear into power, and controlling food, water, and weapons to enforce his newfound power.
And Rachael?
She wasn't with him.
She had fled with the rebels.
Smart girl.
But that meant she was still in danger.
The only question now was how long the rebels could hold out—and if they even trusted Carter enough to let him in.
They moved quickly through the halls, bypassing barricaded doors, stepping over bodies long since cold, the stench of death ever-present.
The university had once been alive—a place of learning, of ideas, of youth.
Now?
Now it was just another graveyard just like the rest of the city.
Carter caught movement up ahead—a set of metal doors, reinforced with makeshift barricades.
A watcher—a young woman with a makeshift spear—peered from behind a stack of overturned desks, her face pale and tired.
She saw them.
Her eyes widened in alarm.
"Who the hell—"
She raised a whistle to her lips, but Carter raised his hand in a non-threatening gesture.
"Wait!"
he called out, stepping forward.
The Medjay warriors tensed, but held formation.
"My name is Carter Sherban. My sister, Rachael, is supposedly with you. I'm here to get her out."
The watcher hesitated, her fingers twitching over completing the whistle.
Then—
A voice from behind the barricade called out.
"Let them through."
The girl froze.
"Are you sure?"
"They wouldn't be this calm if they were with Logan,"
the voice replied.
"Let them in."
With visible reluctance, the girl stepped aside, and the makeshift barricade was pulled open just enough for Carter and his small army to step inside.
The library was a fortress, well not really but to these survivors it was.
Carter's eyes swept the room.
Dozens of survivors huddled inside, their faces hollowed by hunger and fear, but their eyes burning with something else—defiance, unwilling to cave to the tyrant Logan's demands, most of the survivors here were women, clearly fearing what was in store for them at the hands of Logan and his minions.
Bookshelves had been overturned into defensive positions, and furniture had been repurposed into barricades.
They had weapons—mostly melee, some makeshift, a few firearms scavenged from fallen officers or security guards.
And at the center of it all, standing tall with her arms crossed, was Rachael.
Carter's breath hitched.
She was alive.
Dirty.
Tired.
But alive.
Her blue-green eyes locked onto him, widening in shock.
"Brother?"
Carter felt something deep inside him loosen, an invisible weight lifting off his chest, he and his sister weren't close by any measure but the knowledge that he could return to the condo complex and not have to report her death to his brother-in-law, or hear the endless amounts of moaning and complaining spewed forth like toxins from their mother.
He strode forward, gripping her shoulders firmly, scanning her for injuries.
"You okay?"
Rachael nodded rapidly, emotions warring across her face, she seemingly had held it together mentally only the belief in his promise really holding her together.
"I—I can't believe you're here,"
she whispered.
"Neither can I,"
Carter said with a small smirk.
"But I told you I'd come, and don't worry Sam's ok to, he's holding down the fort back home."
She half-laughed, half-sobbed, and before he knew it, she threw her arms around him.
For the first time in the last 24 hours, Carter allowed himself a brief moment of relief.
She was safe.
For now.
~
A man cleared his throat, breaking the moment.
Carter turned his head even as his body was still locked into an embrace by his weeping sister.
The speaker was older, maybe mid-fourties, with dark skin, a shaved head, and a military bearing.
He stood with authority, an old police baton strapped to his belt, a holstered pistol resting on his hip.
"Lieutenant Marcus Caldwell,"
he introduced himself.
"Former campus security, now… well, now just the guy trying to keep these people alive."
Carter gave a nod.
"Carter Sherban. And these are my men."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, looking over the Medjay warriors with clear skepticism.
"You gonna tell me where you found a battalion of Egyptian warriors in the apocalypse, or should I just roll with it?"
Carter smirked.
"Long story."
Marcus huffed.
"Figures."
His gaze hardened.
"Logan's people are a problem,"
he said bluntly.
Carter's expression darkened.
"I know. I intend to deal with them."
Marcus studied him for a moment.
"How?"
Carter didn't hesitate.
"I kill Logan, then at least for those who want it, we return back to our home, a condo complex with reinforced walls that has been cleared and thus far is free from infection."
Silence.
Then Marcus let out a low chuckle.
"You don't waste time, do you?"
"Not when my sister's safety is involved,"
Carter replied.
Marcus exhaled.
"Logan's got about twenty guys, so your 'men' here outnumber them. They also control the food, the weapons, and the strongest survivors since after their initial coup they quickly raided the cafe's, cafeteria, and event he security office, luckily they also did a number on those creatures within the building so much so that I'm sure only the ones outside are left. As for his men most of them are cowards, but Logan… he's got a couple who are just as bad as him, and fear of those few is enough to force the others into line."
Carter's grip tightened around his spear.
"Where is he now?"
Marcus gestured to a campus map, tattered and stained.
"The student center. They took over the food court, and have been gathering supplies into the one place. That's where they're holed up."
Carter nodded.
"Then we take it back."
Marcus frowned.
"You don't think they'll fight back?"
"They will,"
Carter said.
"But they don't have my warriors."
Marcus glanced at the Medjay.
"...Yeah. Fair point."
Carter turned to Rachael.
"You stay here."
She stiffened.
"But—"
"No arguments,"
Carter cut in, his voice firm.
"You're safe here. I need to focus, and I can't do that if I'm worried about you."
Rachael bit her lip.
"...Fine."
Carter turned to Marcus.
"You coming?"
The older man let out a humorless laugh.
"Hell yeah. Been waiting for a shot at that bastard for days."
Carter smirked.
"Good. Then let's end this."
Carter turned to leave taking only forty of his men with him, and leaving ten behind just in case to protect the family he was leaving behind.
~
The campus food court had been transformed into a fort, something akin to what children would make when trying to keep their siblings from their room, or secret hiding spot.
Logan's gang had barricaded the entrances with tables, chairs, and even vending machines, creating a makeshift stronghold but they failed entirely to secure their holdings instead only managing to create a little bit of an obstacle course since a path forward was not exactly impossible.
The large glass windows had been smashed, their jagged edges left as crude deterrents.
Dim emergency lights flickered, casting long, eerie shadows across the room.
And inside?
About twenty armed men—Logan's enforcers—sat behind cover, their nervous eyes scanning for threats, all the while joking about with one another and eating heartily upon the foods they'd found for themselves.
They weren't soldiers.
They weren't trained killers.
They were thugs—bullies who had thrived in the collapse of law and order.
But today?
Today, they would learn what it meant to fight against real warriors.
Carter stood outside in the shadows, peering round the corner as he watched on the fools hadn't even had the sense enough to post a sentry.
At his back forty Medjay warriors flanking him in the cool morning air, and lastly the lone elderly survivor who'd tagged along on their mission.
He studied the defences, his grip tightening on his spear.
Then, he nodded, before looking back to his troops, and giving a command via whisper.
"Kill them."
~
The first volley came without warning.
A whisper of wind—and then, death.
Bronze-tipped arrows and throwing spearswhistled through the air, raining down with ruthless precision on the unsuspecting morons, arcing high over their makeshift barricades.
The first few thugs never even screamed—just jerked violently, blood spurting from pierced throats and sunken eye sockets before they collapsed behind cover.
Panic erupted.
"WE'RE UNDER ATTACK!"
Logan's men scrambled for their weapons, overturning additional tables to serve as shields and grabbing scavenged guns—a mix of pistols, hunting rifles, and even a shotgun.
They fired blindly from behind their cover not willing or brave enough to poke their heads up to properly aim at whomever was attacking them, their shots wild and erratic, sending bullets ricocheting off walls and pillars, but hitting nothing of real value, especially not the attacking Medjay.
Meanwhile, the Medjay warriors remained calm and disciplined, ducking between cover, loosing arrow after arrow, launching spear after spear.
Every shot was measured.
And while accuracy was not 100% their volley's were indeed highly lethal.
Another thug collapsed, a spear lodged deep in his chest.
Another screamed, an arrow buried in his thigh, forcing him to drop his rifle and clutch the wound.
"WHERE THE HELL ARE THEY SHOOTING FROM?!"
Logan's men were breaking.
They were used to being the ones in control, the ones who inspired fear—but now, they were the hunted, and the fools didn't realize the weakness of their position and weapons, when the arcability of arrows was far better to attack from above.
Another volley came.
And more of them fell.
Blood smeared the food court floor.
The stench of iron, and death grew thicker.
And then—
Carter raised his fist.
The barrage stopped.
The remaining survivors—the ones still clutching their guns with shaking hands—realized something chilling.
The enemy was no longer attacking from a distance.
They were coming in.
For the kill.
Melee Combat Begins
"CHARGE!"
Carter's voice rang through the cafeteria like a war drum.
The Medjay roared, their voices a thunderous battle cry, shaking the very walls as they surged forward.
Logan's men tried to fire again, but—
Too slow.
The Medjay had already broken through their barricades and crashed into them like a tidal wave, their bronze weapons flashing under the dim lights.
Swords clashed.
Spears stabbed.
boys screamed.
A thug tried to raise a shotgun, but a Medjay warrior sliced through his arm, sending the gun clattering to the ground before driving his khopesh into the man's gut.
Another thug swung a metal bat, but a warrior ducked, using his shield to bash the attacker's head, dropping him instantly.
Carter himself moved through the chaos like a ghost, his spear a blur of motion.
He impaled a man through the chest, spun, and kicked another in the knee, sending him toppling into an oncoming blade, his actions made him out to be like a combat veteran but he was sure this was all because of the boon given to him by raising his melee rank.
The battle was brutal.
But it wasn't a battle.
It was a slaughter.
Logan's men were falling fast, their morale shattering.
Some dropped their weapons and surrendered.
Some tried to run only to be cut down as they tried.
And others simply froze, realizing there was no escape, but still failing to drop their own weapons.
Within minutes, it was over.
The ground was slick with blood.
The few remaining thugs aliver had surrendered, falling to their knees, their weapons cast aside and the Medjay binding their hands behind their backs as if they had been arrested.
However no matter where he looked Carter could not spot the cause of this all, even after kicking down a locked room leading to the food court back storage room, while they found other survivors... those just barely clinging to life and sanity after Logan and his, thugs had, had their way with them.
In a world like this perhaps it was better if we just put them out of their misery.
But still no Logan.
After sending the recovered girls back with a squad of Medjay and Marcus to the library, the surviving thugs were disposed of, death was far to simple a result of their crimes but we didn't have the time to deal out proper punishment.
~
- Back in time to just before the battle started -
Man this is the life, we've got food, we've got water, hell we've even got women!
A few more days and we'll be able to bring those resisting our rule back into the fold and double the number of girls for our uses.
Then we can think about leaving the campus and going out maybe we can find some beer?
Then everything changed, one minute we were just shooting the shit and the next, Daryl and Tom were dead arrows sticking out of them.
Our fortress had come under attack by someone, dealing us a silent death sentence.
Then another round of arrows and spears came flying in striking metal, tile, and flesh alike, chaos erupted among our forces, our once mighty collective was now just a mass of whimpering children crying out for their punishment to stop.
Screams and frantic shouts filled the air as gang gang of thugs scrambled for cover behind overturned tables, counters, and whatever debris they had piled up to form our barricades.
Their stolen firearms cracked in return fire, but their aim was wild, panicked—the difference between scavengers who had never held a weapon before and warriors honed for battle.
After the first deaths had come, and seeing the second volley of arrows approaching Logan didn't hesitate, he bolted.
Leaving his gang, his food, even his women behind.
In the end his life and his life alone was more important.
Taking what he could carry with him he ran, and thankfully found that the campus grounds had emptied of the undead allowing him to abscond from his present nightmare to start anew in the waiting city below.
~
Like a cockroach scurrying for darkness, Logan hadn't hesitated for even a second.
He'd abandoned his so-called army, disappearing through a side exit without so much as a backward glance.
Coward.
Carter's grip tightened on his khopesh.
He had expected Logan to fight given all his posturing and bluster, to put up some kind of resistance, to at least try and lead his men.
Instead, he proved himself exactly what Carter suspected—a fraud who ruled through fear, but when that fear turned against him, he fled like a rat escaping a sinking ship.
Carter surveyed the aftermath, stepping over bodies, some dead, others groaning in pain.
The air smelled of blood, sweat, and burnt food from the destroyed kitchen stations as these thugs barely had any skills in culinary ability.
His warriors stood victorious, their golden armour gleaming in the luminous morning light pouring through the open windows.
It was over.
But Logan had escaped.
Carter's expression darkened.
He turned to Solomon, the captain of his Medjay forces.
"Search the school."
Solomon saluted.
"At once, my Pharaoh."
The Medjay fanned out, moving like shadows through the halls.
Carter moved with them, his spear in hand.
Room by room, hallway by hallway, they swept through the campus in teams, searching for any stragglers—survivors or enemies.
They found both.
Some students and faculty, terrified and starving, had been hiding in classrooms, too afraid to pick a side.
They surrendered the moment Carter's warriors arrived, begging for protection.
Others, still loyal to Logan, or their own leaders attempted to resist—and they were swiftly subdued and any who resisted were executed for their actions.
But Logan himself?
Gone.
The trail ended at a shattered window on the east side of campus.
Footprints in the dirt.
A blood-stained cloth snagged on a piece of broken glass.
He had slipped away into the ruined city.
Carter clenched his fists, frustration boiling beneath his otherwise cold exterior.
The tyrant had fled, but he wasn't dead.
And that meant he would be back... eventually.
Somewhere in the city, Logan was lurking.
Plotting.
Scheming.
And Carter would make sure that the next time they met…
He wouldn't get the chance to run.
By the time Carter and his warriors regrouped at the library, the campus had been fully secured.
Logan's and the others reign was over.
The resistance from the library, including his sister Rachael, were beyond shocked and pleased to hear of the news and openly welcomed the incoming survivors into their ranks, their expressions ranging from relief to shock as they took in the brutality of Carter's conquest having witnessed first hand what these Warriors were capable of to any who resisted.
The survivors who had surrendered were gathered before him.
Just scared civilians who had been swept up in the madness of the tyrant's rule, or those who'd successfully hidden themselves away from the roaming undead.
Carter's eyes scanned the gathered survivors.
"This school belongs to us now,"
he declared.
His voice was calm but undeniable.
"If you want to stay, then feel free to stay, for we will not remain here, but if you choose to come with us, you follow the rules... our rules. No more violence, no more tyranny, no more power games. The laws of the old world still exist, however punishment for breaching these laws is enforced far harsher then before, criminals are something not worth wasting supplies on afterall."
He let the weight of his words settle before he continued.
"But if you cannot get behind this, or you think you're better off on your own, feel free to leave, or even setup camp here for all we care."
Silence.
Then, one by one, people dropped their heads in submission, none choosing to object to his stated decision.
Logan's rule had been built on fear.
But Carter's?
Carter's rule would be built on strength, sure there would be a bit of fear, that said strength might be turned on them but if they abided by their own ruling that strength would remain pointed external.
And with that, the University was his only to immediately be cast aside as they looted the supplies that were useful into cars, while the Medjay began to regroup with the chariot forces and defensive forces, preparing to become the guard force for the vehicular conoy as they headed back towards the condo complex.
As the survivors got to work looting what remained of the school, Carter overlooked his forces pleased to see that even with their meager numbers in comparison to the zombie forces they had suffered no casualties, but thanks to his restocking of their ammunition and providence of additional weapons they had managed to cull quite a few of the zombie's numbers.
Since they had free time, Carter and his army continued to cull the herd, while the Medjay guards continued to protect the students and staff hard at work loading up anything of worth into cars, trucks, and even some delivery trucks that could be used to take the haul along with all the people back with them far better than the chariots ever could, but his men and women could not drive cars so it was up to the survivors to fulfill this role while the Medjay completed their roles as security.