Chapter 137: The Fall of Tampa
Gunshots echoed from every direction, making it impossible to tell where they were coming from.
The night sky above Tampa was stained dark red by the glow of countless fires. The roars of Walkers and the screams of terrified survivors blended together into a chaotic symphony of destruction.
Santiago Herrera shot upright from his bed.
His hand instinctively reached beneath his pillow and wrapped around the grip of his pistol.
The two white women beside him were awakened by the sudden movement.
They lazily sat up beneath the blankets, their hair draped over their shoulders and their eyes still half-closed from sleep.
Without a word, they handed him his clothes one piece at a time—pants, shirt, leather jacket—as naturally as if they had done it hundreds of times before.
Santiago dressed while walking toward the door.
His leather boots struck the marble floor with heavy, deliberate footsteps.
When he entered the office, every light was already on.
Several gang leaders stood around the long conference table.
Some smoked cigarettes.
Some gripped rifles.
Others wiped sweat from their foreheads.
None of them looked good.
Santiago strode to the head of the table but remained standing.
Placing both hands on the tabletop, he leaned forward like a predator preparing to strike.
"Can someone tell me what the hell is happening outside?"
His voice wasn't loud.
Yet every word felt like a nail being hammered into wood.
A heavily bearded gang leader answered first.
"Someone lured a Walker horde here."
"There are too many of them."
"The outer sentry posts have already been overrun."
Santiago's eyes narrowed.
"Which gang did it?"
The man hesitated.
"We don't know."
"Worthless."
Santiago straightened and swept his gaze across the room.
Eventually, it landed on a middle-aged Chinese man standing quietly in the corner.
"Wang Yukun."
"Take your Fuqing Gang and clear the streets."
"Hold them back for now."
Wang Yukun stood up with a smile.
"Understood. Leave it to me."
He turned and walked out without any urgency.
The moment he stepped into the hallway, however, the smile disappeared from his face.
Under his breath, he cursed Santiago several times.
Back inside the office, Santiago continued issuing orders.
"You."
He pointed at another group.
"Hold the major intersections."
"Set up defensive positions."
"Don't let the Walkers enter the city center."
The remaining leaders accepted their assignments and quickly left.
Soon, only Santiago and his bespectacled staff officer remained.
Santiago sank into his chair and rubbed his temples.
"Go find out how large the horde is."
"Then start preparing an evacuation plan."
The staff officer nodded, grabbed a radio, and hurried outside.
---
Meanwhile, Wang Yukun led twenty members of the Fuqing Gang through the streets.
They had barely rounded a corner when everyone froze.
Ahead of them was a gray tide of death.
Not dozens.
Not hundreds.
But thousands.
Tens of thousands.
Walkers poured in from the highway like a tsunami, filling every street and crushing every defensive line in their path.
Several Latino gang members were retreating desperately.
They fired a burst of bullets.
Ran.
Turned.
Fired another burst.
Then ran again.
They weren't fighting.
They were fleeing.
Wang Yukun stopped.
The men behind him stopped as well.
Some swallowed nervously.
Others tightened their grip on their weapons.
A few had already begun edging backward.
"Boss..."
One of them swallowed hard.
"Do we fight?"
Wang Yukun immediately cursed.
"Fight my ass."
Then he turned around.
"Run!"
"Get out of this city!"
The entire group spun around and sprinted away.
They had only run a short distance when a group suddenly emerged from a nearby alley.
The leader was someone Wang Yukun recognized instantly.
Qin Ming.
A member of Bamboo Union.
Behind him were Li Hanfu, Kong Dexiang, Li Hua, and more than a dozen others.
Every one of them carried a firearm.
Every one of them looked ready to kill.
Qin Ming raised his pistol.
His finger rested on the trigger.
His knuckles had turned white from gripping the weapon too tightly.
"WANG YUKUN!"
His roar echoed through the street.
"You bastard!"
"You killed my wife, Bai Moyue!"
"You killed my brothers!"
"Today, you'll die without a grave!"
A gunshot suddenly rang out.
It wasn't Qin Ming who fired.
It was Li Hanfu.
The bullet struck a Fuqing Gang member beside Wang Yukun.
The man screamed and collapsed behind a parked car while clutching his shoulder.
The Fuqing Gang immediately returned fire.
Bullets slammed into walls, telephone poles, and abandoned vehicles.
Concrete fragments exploded into the air.
The narrow street instantly became a battlefield.
Gunfire erupted nonstop.
Wang Yukun ducked behind a wrecked car.
Bullets hammered the vehicle, shattering windows and showering him with broken glass.
He raised his voice and shouted toward Qin Ming.
"Qin Ming!"
"A wise man knows when to submit to reality!"
"If Bamboo Union and 14K hadn't refused to cooperate with the Latinos, your wife and those brothers wouldn't have died!"
"You brought this on yourselves!"
"Bullshit!"
Li Hanfu leaned around cover and fired a burst that forced Wang Yukun back.
"You traitorous dog!"
"How dare you say that!"
"If I don't kill you tonight, I'll change my surname to Wang!"
The battle intensified.
Bodies began piling up on both sides.
Blood darkened the pavement beneath the streetlights.
Then the first Walkers arrived.
Drawn by the gunfire.
The undead surged toward the street.
The survivors suddenly found themselves trapped between two enemies.
One Fuqing Gang member was tackled to the ground by a Walker.
His scream lasted only a moment before being abruptly cut short.
Others, unwilling to face such a fate, raised their guns and ended their own lives before the Walkers could reach them.
Wang Yukun was struck in the arm.
Blood poured from the wound and dripped from his fingertips.
Grinding his teeth, he clutched the injury and fled deeper into the city.
Qin Ming immediately pursued him.
But Li Hanfu grabbed his arm.
"Stop!"
"The Walkers are coming!"
Qin Ming shook him off and continued chasing.
Only then did he realize his own abdomen was soaked in blood.
A large crimson stain spread across his shirt.
Blood seeped between his fingers and dripped onto the road.
He didn't even know when he had been shot.
Maybe during the exchange of gunfire.
Maybe earlier.
It didn't matter.
Wang Yukun was still alive.
And as long as he was alive, Qin Ming couldn't stop.