CHAPTER 60: INTERACTIONS WITH THE NIGHT PART 19

Kana, who had been lazily lounging with a bow across her lap, watched as he leaned further and whistled through his teeth.

That sound meant real trouble.

She moved slightly, her fingers brushing against his arm as she gestured for the binoculars.

"Here you go." He passed them to her, and she raised them to her eyes, adjusting the focus carefully.

As the ruined structure came into sharp view, her face drained of color.

Her mouth parted slightly at the sight before her.

"That’s a jumper..."

"A jumper?" Luck echoed.

"See the legs?" she handed him back the binoculars.

"Look at those thighs—twice the width of the upper body. It can jump a wall easily. "

The Jumper stood still, shifting its weight from foot to foot like a spider monkey on Adderall.

Its mottled blue-gray skin stretched over cords of muscle and bone. Long arms hung behind it like loose whips.

Kana exhaled, then reached for Luck’s sleeve, almost unconsciously. "This is the first time I’ve seen it personally."

"Then why do you know so much?" he raised an eyebrow.

"We met a guy before." her voice dropped a little. "Obsessed with zombies. He kept a notebook, sketched every type he saw, and explained the mutations. At first, we thought he was just crazy—but he swore more of them would evolve sooner or later."

The more he listened, the more curious he became. "Where is that guy now?"

"I don’t know." She shook her head. "He disappeared when we were almost surrounded by the undead. But he left his bag and notebook."

"Let’s go get it," he commanded.

She didn’t ask any questions—just turned and headed off to retrieve it.

They went inside the motel and used the light to study the notes.

Luck paged through the battered, sweat-stained notebook at the counter table while she watched, chin propped on her hands.

The first few sketches were precise and meticulously detailed, each line drawn with a steady hand that left no room for ambiguity

Over a dozen mutated variants were cataloged, their names written in a neat script.

However, only six of these had comprehensive descriptions, illustrated with an elaborate attention to detail that allowed no nuance to be missed.

The others were merely rough sketches, hastily scribbled outlines that nonetheless conveyed some information.

He read each page slowly, locking the details into memory. When he shut the notebook, Kana gave him a look—she didn’t expect him to finish that fast.

"You’re done already?"

"Yes." He nodded.

For now, the Jumper’s weak spot was still the neck. Its long arms were a problem, but he could handle it one-on-one. Thanks to his immunity, even a scratch wouldn’t turn him.

"Give me some time. I need to get a few things."

He headed back to his office, grabbed extra supplies, and set the weight gear to zero.

Speed was his priority because he would be facing something fast, and any drag could get him killed.

Once he finished preparing, they went straight back to the watchtower.

Fernando was still on watch, eyes locked on the Jumper. But his expression was stiff—tense, unsure.

"Big Boss, there are three of them now!"

Luck took the binoculars again, steadying his breath.

The jumpers weren’t in a pack—they were spread out, one to the north, one to the east, and one already halfway up a delivery truck by the old liquor store.

But that wasn’t the only thing that was concerning.

He turned his focus down the street. Regular zombies were starting to push through the wall—some already torn through the barbed wire.

If they began shooting now, the noise might attract more from further away.

However, doing nothing meant the wall would be vulnerable. And a horde of zombies slamming their fists against it wasn’t exactly quiet.

Fernando stared at him, eyes wide and desperate for direction.

Luck remained silent, withholding the command.

Meanwhile, the zombies intensified their assault, slamming against the barricade.

Their decaying fingers clawed at the gaps in the wood, and their lifeless bodies dragged mercilessly across the jagged barbed wire. Black Blood oozed from their wounds, staining the posts in a grotesque display.

Then one slammed into the wall hard enough to crack it. That’s when the others joined in, pounding nonstop. The sound and vibration could even be felt from the watchtower.

From every alley, the dead turned, heads canted, eyes like white bulbs.

Luck stood up fast.

"Shoot them all."

His command left no room for hesitation.

Kana fired first. The arrow grazed one zombie’s cheek, then sank into the skull of another behind it.

To most, it looked like a lucky shot—but that was just her showing a bit of what she could really do.

She kept firing, each shot smooth and steady—like someone trained since childhood.

No one here could match her with a bow. Not even Luck.

Fernando gulped and shot, missing his target by a yard but hitting something, at least.

While this was happening, the others on nearby towers started firing too—arrows cutting through the air like a volley from medieval knights defending a fortress.

The thuds of bowstrings and the sharp twang of metal-tipped shafts filled the air. Some arrows struck , dropping zombies mid-step. Others barely slowed them down.

Fernando grabbed the rail and fired blind, the bolt skidding off a skull and vanishing into the street.

"Keep firing!" Luck snapped, voice sharp as the tip of his arrow

Kana loosed another arrow, then another—every shot mostly clean, but the sheer numbers made the progress look like a child draining a lake with a straw. .

"Big Boss," she shouted, "the one by the liquor store—it’s moving!"

Luck nodded once, eyes already tracking it.

Its glowing eyes locked forward, legs crouched low, ready to spring.

Then it leapt.

It cleared the delivery truck in one smooth arc, landing on top of a burned-out sedan. The hood buckled under its weight. A second later, it bounced again, this time toward an SUV.

"Shit," Fernando breathed.

"Don’t worry. I got this!" Luck barked. "Focus on the zombies."

The Jumper dashed forward and launched itself.

Mid-leap, it found footing on a zombie’s skull, crushing it with an explosive force that propelled it like a wild springboard.

With unstoppable momentum, it soared over the wall, leaving the horde below in its wake.

"Not on my watch!" Luck aimed the bow, pulled an arrow from the quiver, and fired—once, twice, three times. Then a fourth.

All four shots slammed into the Jumper’s torso mid-air.

It twisted on impact, stumbled, and landed hard on the gravel, claws tearing the earth as it caught its balance

Luck didn’t hesitate for a second. He jumped from the tower , landing with a bone-jarring thud that reverberated through his entire body.

With his sword drawn, he faced the monstrous creature head-on. His stance showed complete confidence in his ability.

The Jumper hissed, black blood leaking from its wounds. Its glowing eyes fixed on him, filled with rage and a promise of violence.

"I bet you never won any MVP awards, seeing how pissed you are," Luck muttered with a grin.

It charged at him.

Luck sidestepped the first lunge and sliced his blade across its ribs in one clean motion.

Sparks flew as his blade scraped against bone.