The group chatted and laughed along the way, making the journey anything but dull. Since their aircraft was flying at a high altitude, no brainless mutated flying beasts dared to cause trouble.
Everything was going smoothly.
About an hour later, they reached Texas airspace.
The aircraft began to descend, switching to low-altitude flight.
Through the windows, they could see the desolate land below. Occasionally, they passed over ruined cities, where the distant howls of zombies echoed. Some mutated flying beasts circled in the sky, scanning for prey.
In this post-apocalyptic world, most places were still overrun by the undead.
"Where are we headed?" Oliver, the pilot, asked.
Ethan thought for a moment. He couldn't just charge straight into Blackhand City—that would be way too conspicuous, especially with thousands of Awakeners inside.
Caution had always been his style.
"Let's scout around the outskirts of Blackhand City first. See if we can find any isolated teams."
