Ronak, worried, gazed at the zombie hordes constantly attacking his walls reinforced with tal sheets.
Unable to see those refugees being trampled and transford into zombies, Ronak created a temporary shelter for the refugees in his base.
Now his primary concern was the hordes of zombies attacking the wall. Though his soldiers were competent, and it ca as a surprise that they were able to hold on till now, Ronak was worried about how long they could remain safe.
Roar! Roar!
The zombies clashed on the wall using brute force, while those superhumans standing on the defense wall fumbled due to the vibration of the wall being moved.
Balls of fla clashed straight toward the zombies, followed by occasional strikes of thunder. Powerful wind was sending a few zombies away, and so invisible strength occasionally crushed the zombies to the ground.
This was the coordinated attack Ronak had co up with. He also used hot weapons like guns, rifles, etc.
So even suggested the use of explosives.
Ronak tried everything he could in desperation. However, even Mother Earth seems not to be in his favor. The constant scorching sunlight made the soldiers and Ronak feel that they might soon lose a layer of their skin!
Their lips were chapped, and many had to suppress the urge to drink water since it was scarce to begin with.
Even with a talented water ability user, the base couldn’t et the demand.
These water ability users can at most make sure that the entire base has drunk a sip of water; however, that was the limit.
Due to the relentless heat, the problems only multiplied.
The food supplies, once neatly stored, began to spoil faster than expected. Canned goods were safe, but anything perishable beca useless within hours.
The sll of rotting vegetables and at spread through the base, attracting more flies and pests that carried diseases.
tal weapons and equipnt grew unbearably hot to touch, forcing soldiers to wrap their hands in cloth before using them.
The walls themselves, made of reinforced tal sheets, absorbed and radiated the sun’s heat like a furnace. Many soldiers suffered from burns just by leaning against them for a mont too long.
Fatigue beca a silent enemy. The soldiers’ stamina plumted as dehydration set in.
Even the superhumans, usually resilient to physical strain, felt their abilities weaken.
Fire-type users found their flas flickering uncontrollably from exhaustion, while those who manipulated wind could barely summon enough strength to cool the area.
Sleep beca a rare luxury. The nights offered little relief, as the heat trapped within the tal walls turned the base into an oven.
So soldiers fainted during their shifts; others hallucinated, mistaking the glint of heat waves for incoming zombies.
dical supplies were running low. Sunburns, heat rashes, and severe dehydration cases filled the infirmary.
The few dics available had to ration both ointnts and saline water, prioritizing those still able to fight.
The morale of the people began to crumble. Refugees grew restless, arguing over every drop of water and piece of bread. Mothers struggled to calm crying children who could barely swallow in the dry air.
And through it all, Ronak stood at the center, his shirt soaked in sweat, his throat dry, and his mind clouded with worry.
If blessings co in pairs, so does misery.
Having contacted all the other bases for help, Ronak only received one response: We are suffering too. Please try to be self-sufficient.
Now truly at a loss, Ronak could see his base crumbling, but he couldn’t do much!
This feeling of helplessness and despair was sothing new and horrifying.
"Leader, what should we do? The food at the camp is running out!" Neil, the general of the army, asked worriedly as his gaze swept over the horde of zombies.
"Transfer the food from my personal stash!" Ronak gritted his teeth as he watched his soldiers fight for his base! He absolutely can’t let them down.
"But leader, that’s the last batch of food; once it’s used up... we won’t have anything left for ourselves," Neil hesitated, his voice trembling, while his hand wiped away the sweat forming on his forehead.
Ronak closed his eyes for a mont, feeling the sting of sweat dripping into the small cuts on his face. His lips twitched as he muttered,
"I know... But if we lose the walls, none of that food will matter anyway."
"Then about the water supply..."
"I will find a way." Ronak rubbed his temple in exhaustion; his mind was filled with various possibilities.
Neil wanted to argue, but the exhaustion in Ronak’s tone silenced him. With a nod, he rushed off to execute the order.
Ronak stayed at the defense line for the next few hours.
By the next day, faint dark circles had appeared under his eyes, and his body, due to being dehydrated for a long ti, started to sway.
Just as he was about to fall, a pair of strong hands muttered in distress.
"Ronak, are you stupid? If you don’t take care of yourself, how will you manage the base?" Drake’s scolding was laced with his worry for Ronak.
"Sorry for worrying you, wifey." Ronak gave a faint smile. After standing up with Drake’s help, he thought of sothing and looked at him with deep tenderness.
"Baby, do you know about the small portion of food hidden in the secret room located under our bed?"
"Yes? So what?" Drake’s brows were furrowed.
"In case I don’t make it alive out of this... just take the food and run away," Ronak said earnestly. "I have already talked with Silas; he will take care of you after my death..."
Slap!
The stinging pain and the ringing ears told Ronak that Drake had slapped him. Not softly... otherwise... why would it hurt so much?
"You bastard! If you dare leave , I will marry soone else and fuck him right in front of your gravestone!" Drake shouted, anger flashing in his eyes.
"You dare!" Ronak’s anger flared up at the thought of seeing Drake with soone else.
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