The Undead and Unstoppable Apocalyptic Queen novel Chapter 590

Chapter 590 Into Firestone

Steven nodded furiously under the weight of their threats.

But when their words turned toward Theresa, the tone softened completely.

“Be careful.”

“Don’t lose your communicator–check in anytime.”

“Do you have enough supplies? Still carrying a gun? I can give you more weapons.”

“No need. All of you, head back,” Theresa ordered.

At her command, the group reluctantly withdrew.

Only then did Steven begin to piece it together, slow and stunned.

“Theresa… all of them, they’re…”

“My crew,” she replied simply.

Steven’s eyes went wide.

Of course. This was Theresa.

Unshakable, unstoppable.

She was exactly as formidable as the stories made her out to be.

“Didn’t I tell you before? You should’ve come to my alliance. It’s safe there,” Theresa continued. “Your old campmates have already moved in.”

Steven swallowed hard, his throat dry.

If he’d known just how powerful Theresa really was, he never would have stepped into Divine Academy’s inner camp in the first place.

They’d been blind–short–sighted fools.

“What’s

your assignment this time?” Theresa asked.

“My job is to deliver you and then leave.”

“You’re leaving? Not waiting for me?”

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“That’s right. I’ll drop you off, and someone else might pick you up later.”

“Why not stay with us?” Quentin pressed, seizing on the loophole.

* Finished

Steven shook his head violently. “I can’t. This helicopter’s rigged with a timed explosive. If I don’t return on schedule, it’ll detonate.”

That silenced Quentin.

Inside the helicopter, two full kits awaited them: headsets connected to the comms system, locators flashing their target coordinates, and packs crammed with compressed biscuits, canned meat, energy bars, and bottled water.

The supplies were generous this time.

But Theresa wouldn’t touch any of the food.

She had seen with her own eyes how easily Divine Academy poisoned what they offered.

She packed everything neatly, slinging it over her shoulder.

Steven checked the instruments. “We’ve locked onto the location.”

The helicopter thundered down onto a rooftop helipad.

They had reached Firestone.

It was an industrial city, bristling with chemical plants and crowded with migrant workers.

The population wasn’t as overwhelming as Stratford’s, but it was easily twice the size of Ansford.

They had landed in the city’s northwest quarter, while the locator in Theresa’s hand pointed southeast–where their rescue target awaited.

“Why didn’t you drop us right by the target?” Quentin demanded.

“I don’t know. I just follow orders,” Steven replied.

“I know exactly what they’re doing,” Theresa cut in, her eyes flashing cold.

They wanted to test her strength–to see what she was truly capable of.

The helicopter lifted off again, its roar echoing through the concrete canyons.

Below, the noise drew the horde. Zombies surged from every direction, howling and snarling as they swarmed toward the building.

The structure beneath her feet was only ten stories tall, surrounded by a sprawl of equally low- rise buildings packed far too close together.

Firestone had grown out of its chemical plants, and though the city’s economy had flourished, the housing here had barely advanced past makeshift, village–style blocks.

Factory bosses pocketed the money; migrant workers couldn’t dream of buying property nearby. Even real estate developers largely ignored this district.

That left a jungle of self–built apartment houses–six, seven stories tall at most–thrown up as cheap lodgings for the labor force.

The building Theresa stood on was a mixed–use block, its walls plastered with sun–bleached signs: cheap tutoring services, prepaid cell plans, hot–and–spicy chips, cash advance loans, and drain cleaner.

Local ads at their rawest.

Beneath them, a tangle of sagging wires and jutting laundry poles connected one building to the next. The gaps between rooftops were so narrow that, before the world ended, this place would have been a parkour paradise.

Now, there was no ground left to land on–only a roiling sea of the dead.

The building itself began to shudder under the assault.

“Roar!”

“Roar!”

“Roar!”

Thousands of zombies hurled themselves at the crumbling structure, their collective impact rattling the walls like an earthquake.

The horde had surrounded them.

“Run with me!” Theresa barked. After a single glance at the three–yard gap to the next rooftop, she vaulted the safety railing and caught hold of a metal billboard frame, half her body hanging out over the abyss.