Chapter 201: Fighting The Hybrid Infected of Atlantic City [1]

"Hey!" Molly’s voice called out immediately. "Where the hell do you think you’re—"

Before she could finish the sentence, before anyone could physically move to stop me, I reached the barricade. My hand shot up to grip the top edge of the metal barrier, fingers finding purchase on the welded seam. I launched myself upward in a single fluid motion, using arm strength and momentum to vault over the obstacle.

Then I landed on the other side with a controlled crouch, my boots hitting the broken asphalt with a solid thud.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!" Molly’s voice rang out from behind me. I glanced back to see her scrambling up onto the roof of an abandoned car that had been pushed against the barricade, using the extra height to peer over the metal barrier at me. Her hands gripped the top edge of the barricade as she looked at me shocked.

Marlon was there too, standing beside her with his arms crossed, his expression harder to read but clearly surprised by my sudden action. Maribel had arrived as well, her wooden lance held ready, her eyes wide with what looked like confusion.

"I’m going to get a look," I said. "I’ll be quick about it."

"Are you completely insane?!" Molly shouted, her voice rising in pitch. "There’s a Hybrid out there somewhere, plus whatever the hell Theo saw! You’ll get yourself killed!"

"It’s fine," I said, ducking down to pick up a length of metal pipe that was lying among the debris scattered across the street. It was about three feet long, solid steel, slightly rusted but still structurally sound. Not ideal, but it would have to do .

I’d left my hand axe back in the hotel room with my bag, sitting beside Clara’s bed where I’d carelessly set it down when I thought I was just going to eat a peaceful meal. That oversight felt monumentally stupid now, but there was no point dwelling on it. I’d have to improvise with whatever I could find .

I glanced back at the three of them watching me from behind the barricade, their expressions ranging from concerned to incredulous.

"I’ll be back soon," I said, adjusting my grip on the pipe. "Just stay alert and keep the place secure. If I’m not back in twenty minutes, don’t come looking for me."

Before any of them could respond or try to talk me out of it, I turned and rushed off deeper into the unsecured streets, my enhanced speed eating up distance as the buildings rose around me like the ribs of some massive dead beast .

Quickly focusing my Dullahan-enhanced senses, I tried to detect the presence of the Enhanced Infected Theo had mentioned. It wasn’t particularly hard to differentiate the aura—the wrongness—that enhanced variants exuded compared to ordinary infected. After facing several of them over the past months, I’d gotten the hang of sensing that particular frequency of unnatural energy they radiated. It felt like pressure against my mind, like static electricity making the hair on my arms stand up, like the moment before lightning struck .

For now, I couldn’t detect it anywhere in my immediate vicinity, so I continued pushing deeper into the ruins, my boots pounding against cracked pavement as I navigated around abandoned vehicles and piles of debris .

I encountered a few ordinary infected along the way—shamblers that had been drawn by the earlier gunshots or were just wandering aimlessly through their former hunting grounds. I struck them down with the metal pipe as I passed, not bothering to finish them off properly or confirm kills. A savage blow to the head that sent them sprawling was enough to get them out of my path. I had bigger concerns than a few broken ordinary Infected .

If this was another Starakian technology deployment as I strongly suspected, then the situation was worse than just a local threat to Atlantic City. Because there was a very real, very terrifying possibility that they’d followed us specifically—that they’d tracked our group from Jackson Township.

Which meant there was a chance—slim but genuine—that they’d already attacked the others back at Galloway while I was here.

I felt my heartbeat quicken and panic beginning to rise in my chest like cold water flooding a sinking ship. Rachel and Sydney were back there with the main group. They could handle themselves in a fight, both of them were capable and enhanced. But if the Starakians deployed something like a Fire Spitter or the kind of Frost Walker, there would definitely be casualties. People would die while I was here, miles away, unable to help .

Damn it. Damn it all.

I clenched my teeth hard enough that my jaw ached, forcing myself to breathe slowly and push down the rising panic before it could paralyze me. Getting worked up wouldn’t help anyone. I needed to focus on the immediate problem, deal with it, and then get back to Galloway as fast as possible .

I’d lowered my guard. That was the brutal truth I had to face. The last few days, I’d been vigilant about potential Starakian threats—constantly scanning for signs of their technology, staying alert for enhanced infected or unusual activity. But after arriving in Atlantic City and getting caught up in the drama between survivor communities, after meeting Rico’s people and learning about Callighan’s group, I’d unconsciously shifted my focus away from the alien threat and toward the human one .

I’d thought maybe the Starakians had abandoned their pursuit of Wanda. There hadn’t been any signs of them since Jackson Township fell. So I’d started to hope—foolishly, stupidly—that maybe they’d written off their lost asset and moved on to other experiments, other cities, other priorities .

But that thinking was dangerously naive. Putting aside the question of whether Hybrid Infected existed naturally around the world—which was possible—Starakian technology never appeared randomly or by accident. It was always deployed with purpose, with specific objectives in mind. If there was Starakian tech active in Atlantic City, it was here for a reason .

For what purpose, though? To kill me specifically and buy time so I couldn’t reach Galloway? To isolate me from my group while they attacked the main body of survivors?

The possibilities spiraled through my mind, each one darker than the last, but they all led to the same fundamental conclusion: I needed to see what we were dealing with, eliminate the threat, and get back to my people as quickly as possible .

I won’t let anything happen again.

Immediately, my enhanced senses screamed danger as I reached a four-way intersection where the streets opened up into a small plaza. My gray eyes caught movement—a huge figure rushing toward me from the shadows of a collapsed storefront with terrifying speed .

I reacted instantly, muscle memory and enhanced reflexes taking over before conscious thought could form. I brought the metal pipe up in a defensive position and swung it hard against the incoming fist that was already closing the distance with inhuman velocity .

The impact was enormous. The shock ran through my arm like I’d been hit by a sledgehammer, the force traveling up through my bones and into my shoulder with bruising intensity. The metal pipe bent visibly on impact, warping into a useless curve, the structural integrity compromised by the sheer force .

My grip failed. The twisted pipe flew from my hands as I skidded backward across the asphalt, my boots scraping against broken pavement as I fought to maintain balance. I managed to stay on my feet—barely—and raised my gaze to see what I was facing .

As expected. An Enhanced Infected.

This one was massive, easily seven feet tall and built like a heavyweight wrestler who’d been pumped full of steroids and hatred. Its body was grotesquely muscular, muscles bulging under skin that had split in places from the rapid growth, revealing raw tissue beneath. Its face was a nightmare of distorted features—jaw extended and filled with too many teeth, eyes that burned with unnatural intelligence and rage.

The creature’s eyes locked onto me, and I saw something there that ordinary infected never showed: recognition. Awareness. It had sensed the Dullahan symbiosis inside me, recognized me as something other than normal prey. Its expression shifted from mindless hunger to what looked almost like hatred or territorial aggression.

Growling louder, deep in its chest like an engine revving, it rushed toward me with frightening speed .

Damn it, these things are always so fast! Even knowing what to expect, the velocity still caught me slightly off guard .

I waited for the right moment, letting it close the distance until I could see the individual teeth in its gaping mouth, then jumped hard to the side. My enhanced leg muscles propelled me clear of its charge, and the creature barreled past where I’d been standing, its momentum carrying it several feet before it could arrest its movement and turn .

I need a weapon. Something better than my bare hands.

My eyes scanned the surrounding area quickly. Broken glass—too small and fragile. Chunks of concrete—awkward to wield effectively. A street sign post that had been torn from its moorings—maybe, if I could get to it .

But I didn’t have time for a thorough search. The Hybrid had already recovered from its missed charge and was rushing toward me again, its massive hands reaching to grab and tear .

I clenched my fists and made a split-second decision. I rushed toward it instead of away, closing the distance in a way it clearly didn’t expect .

Using the wind blade took a significant amount of stamina—I could feel the energy draining from my core as I channeled the Dullahan essence into a focused cutting edge around my limbs. But I couldn’t afford to hold back against this thing. One mistake, one moment of hesitation or weakness, and it would tear me apart .

The Hybrid shot its large hand forward to catch me in mid-charge, fingers spread wide enough to encompass my entire torso. It was fast—terrifyingly fast for something so large and ungainly-looking .

But my reactions, enhanced by Dullahan and honed by months were faster.

I tilted my head at the last possible instant, dodging the grasping hand by a hair’s breadth. I felt the displaced air ruffle my hair as those massive fingers closed on empty space where my skull had been a fraction of a second before. Still moving forward, I ducked low under its extended arm and drove my fist upward in a rising uppercut aimed at the creature’s jaw .

CRACK!

The sound of bone breaking echoed through the empty street, unnaturally loud. My fist connected with the underside of the Hybrid’s jaw with all my enhanced strength behind it, reinforced by the wind blade technique that added invisible cutting force to the impact. The creature’s head snapped back violently, its jaw visibly dislocating with a sickening crunch .

But more than that—the wind blade energy released on impact, creating a localized gust of cutting air that tore upward through the soft tissue of the creature’s throat and lower face. The Hybrid was lifted completely off the ground by the force, its massive body becoming briefly airborne before it crashed backward into an abandoned car with a tremendous impact that caved in the vehicle’s roof and shattered what remained of its windows .

I stepped back, breathing hard, watching to see if that had been enough.

Obviously it wouldn’t be that easy. These things never went down from one hit, no matter how hard you struck them .

The Infected growled—a wet, gargling sound now that its jaw was shattered—and pushed itself up from the ruined car. Its jaw hung at an unnatural angle, bone fragments visible through the torn skin and muscle. The lower half of its face was a mess of mangled tissue, exposing the interior of its mouth and throat in stomach-turning detail. Dark, corrupted blood oozed from the wound, dripping onto the pavement .

But it was still moving.

It rushed at me again, apparently either too enraged or too mindless from the virus to recognize that it should retreat and heal .

Thankfully, this one didn’t seem as dangerous as some of the other enhanced variants I’d faced. Not as the Guardian-type Infected I faced at the radio station with Rachel. Not as lethally threatening as the electrical Infected that had nearly killed me with successive shocks that might have stopped my heart. This was just a brute—powerful and fast, yes, but straightforward in its attacks .

It charged toward me in a straight line again.

I stepped backward, my boots finding purchase on the broken asphalt as I retreated in a measured way. I backed up until I felt the edge of an abandoned car door behind me—one that had been left hanging open, probably when the original owner fled or was dragged out months ago .

I jumped backward over the car’s hood in a smooth motion, using the vehicle as a temporary barrier. As I landed on the other side, I pivoted and kicked the open door with all my enhanced strength, using the wind blade technique again to add cutting force to the impact .

The door tore free from its remaining hinge with a screech of protesting metal. It flew through the air like a massive discus, spinning and tumbling end-over-end until it crashed edge-first into the charging Hybrid’s face with brutal force .

The creature’s nose shattered on impact. Blood—dark and wrong-looking, almost black—sprayed in an arc as the Infected’s head snapped back from the blow. It stumbled, its charge broken, arms windmilling as it tried to maintain balance .

I used that opening immediately, closing the distance while it was still off-balance. I twisted on my heel, channeling momentum into a powerful roundhouse kick enhanced with wind blade energy, aiming for the creature’s exposed midsection .

My boot connected with its flabby, distended abdomen—the flesh there already fragile and weakened by the virus’s grotesque transformations. The wind blade technique released on impact, the invisible cutting edge tearing through corrupted tissue like it was wet paper .

My leg actually punched through the creature’s abdomen, sinking in up to my knee with a horrific wet tearing sound. I felt the disgusting sensation of rotten flesh parting around my limb, warm and viscous and wrong in every possible way. The Hybrid made a sound—something between a scream and a gurgle—as the wound registered even through its pain-deadened nervous system .

The force of the kick sent the creature flying backward yet again, my leg withdrawing from the massive wound with a sucking sound. It crashed into the side of a building, leaving a spray of dark blood and internal fluids across the brick wall .

I landed on my feet but immediately had to fight down the urge to vomit as I looked at my right leg. It was completely coated from the knee down in the Hybrid’s blood and rotting internal matter—a disgusting mixture of dark fluid and tissue fragments.

I should really find somewhere to change clothes and wash this contamination off as soon as possible. But before that, I had to finish what I’d started here. A wounded predator was often more dangerous than a healthy one, and I couldn’t afford to leave this thing alive to potentially attack someone else.

I forced myself to ignore the disgusting sensation coating my leg and rushed toward the Hybrid, which was now slumped against the brick wall where my kick had sent it. Dark blood pooled beneath its body, spreading across the cracked sidewalk in an expanding stain that looked almost black in the afternoon shadows .

But as expected, even with its abdomen catastrophically punctured and its internal organs likely shredded, the creature wasn’t finished.

The Hybrid began to rise, its massive arms bracing against the wall as it pushed itself upright. My eyes widened when I saw what it was holding in one massive hand—a chunk of broken concrete the size of a softball, gripped tightly despite the creature’s mangled condition .

Shit!

I reacted instantly, crossing my arms in front of my face and upper body in a defensive position, trying to protect my most vulnerable areas. But I wasn’t quite fast enough.

The Hybrid hurled the concrete chunk with shocking accuracy and force, its aim deadly despite its injuries. The projectile struck me squarely in the abdomen with brutal impact, the stone’s jagged edges driving into my midsection like a battering ram .

"Aagh!" The sound was forced out of me involuntarily as all the air in my lungs expelled in a single violent exhalation. I felt something crack inside my torso—a distinctive sensation that I’d unfortunately experienced before. The impact sent me stumbling backward, my boots scraping against pavement as I fought to maintain balance and not go down completely .

Pain bloomed across my abdomen and radiated up into my chest, sharp and insistent in a way that told me I’d definitely taken damage. My ribs on the right side had definitely cracked—maybe broken cleanly—from the force of impact.

I forced my gaze up through watering eyes to see the Hybrid rising fully now, its expression—what remained of it with the shattered jaw—twisted into something that looked almost like a smirk.

Created to kill Host of Symbiosis, so of course it was delighted to see me suffering.

However.

Now I’m pissed off.

Dullahan to my emotional state immediately, flooding my system with adrenaline and combat hormones, sharpening my senses even further despite the pain radiating from my ribs .

I clenched my fists, ignoring the stabbing sensation in my torso, and prepared to meet the creature’s charge. The tattoo on my right forearm—the mark of Dullahan—began to glow.

But at that exact moment, before either of us could close the distance, I saw a figure flash into existence behind the Hybrid with startling speed.

A wooden lance thrust forward with vicious precision, the sharpened tip punching through the back of the Hybrid’s neck and erupting from the front of its throat in an explosion of dark blood and tissue.

I widened my eyes seeing who it was.

Maribel stood behind the Hybrid, her wooden lance still embedded in its neck, her expression twisted into irritation as she glanced at me.

"You really do have some screws loose, don’t you?"