Calista's plan had been proven effective, though the process was extremely unpleasant.
The orders that followed became much easier to carry out.
Calista stood at the entrance of Rock Fortress, facing sixteen carefully selected mercenaries.
Aside from Leah, Rickson, Carver, Mike, and Bossie—and Hank and Leon, whose gunshot wounds hadn't healed yet—all the other elite members had been assembled.
"Operate in groups." Calista's voice was still slightly hoarse from earlier discomfort. "Clear out all visible walkers along the route from the southeast of the base to Blackberry Ranch.
Drive them all toward the center of the ranch. No gunfire, no close combat—just guide them. Use anything that can make noise, and keep a safe distance. Understood?"
"Understood!" the group replied in low, serious voices.
Leah stepped forward and quickly assigned roles:
"Maya, take Jonathan and Thompson and handle the eastern tree line. Turner, you take Jenson and Wells and clear Old Highway 17 leading to the ranch. Ethan, you're with Danny and Ancheta, responsible for the southern ravine.
Edmund, you, Saed, and Gavin cover the west. Rory, Mikey, Murphy—you handle the north. Zhou, lead Guillermo, Miguel, and Merle as a mobile support team. Fill any gaps and make sure the horde flows in the right direction!"
"Roger that!"
"All teams—three hours from now, regardless of results, withdraw to the observation point on the high ground outside the ranch and regroup. Move out!"
No one wasted words. Each team quickly grabbed the necessary equipment—
several high-powered portable speakers, a pile of sledgehammers and metal rods, high-frequency whistles, and even two battered gongs.
Then, in silence and with speed, they rushed out the gate and disappeared into the dense mountain forest.
Rickson, carrying a sniper rifle, climbed up the watchtower at the entrance to guard the base, making sure no stray walkers wandered too close to Rock Fortress.
Calista, Leah, Carver, Mike, and Bossie stayed behind. They needed time for the horde to gather—and time… to mentally prepare for what came next.
Beside them sat several large barrels filled with "disguise materials" taken from the earlier "donors," giving off a suffocating stench.
Deep in the forest, the operation unfolded rapidly.
Maya's three-person team moved silently through thick undergrowth.
Maya's eyes were sharp as she directed with hand signals. Jonathan found an open spot, quickly set down the speaker from his pack, and connected it to a battery. Thompson stayed alert, using a suppressed rifle to quietly pick off scattered walkers drawn in by the noise.
"Set the frequency to maximum," Maya whispered.
Jonathan turned the dial. A piercing, shrill noise—almost beyond what human ears could tolerate—burst out instantly, cutting through the forest with incredible force.
"Huh… huh…"
Almost immediately, answering growls echoed from deeper in the woods, and the trees began to shake.
"It's working! Move! Keep the noise going!" Maya ordered.
The team began to retreat while maintaining the sound, drawing the hidden walkers out one by one like bait on a line, guiding them along behind.
...
Meanwhile, on Old Highway 17.
Wells, a burly heavy weapons specialist, swung a massive sledgehammer and smashed it down onto the hood of an abandoned car by the roadside.
"Clang!!!"
The deafening noise echoed across the otherwise quiet valley, carrying far into the distance.
"Hey! You rotten meatbags! Dinner time!" Turner shouted as he banged on a road sign pole.
Even though close combat was forbidden, he was clearly enjoying himself.
Jenson was more cautious, scanning the area through binoculars. "Left flank—about thirty are coming in! Movement on the right too! Keep the rhythm steady!"
They became the source of the noise, constantly generating sound to attract walkers, slowly retreating as a shambling procession of the dead gathered behind them.
...
In the southern ravine, Ethan had a whistle clenched between his teeth, blowing out sharp, off-key shrieks. Danny rhythmically struck rocks with the butt of his rifle, while Ancheta nervously watched both upstream and downstream.
Suddenly, a large group of walkers poured out from a bend upstream—far more than expected.
"Shit! Too many! Fall back, now!" Ancheta shouted.
"Quit panicking!" Danny snapped, though he didn't slow down. The three immediately turned and retreated quickly along the creekside path, continuing to make noise as they guided the massive group into the main flow.
...
The western and northern teams carried out their tasks just as efficiently.
The support team moved between groups, driving slowly while blasting noise, filling in gaps and making sure no walkers strayed or fell behind, steadily funneling every scattered group toward the massive "walkers reservoir" at Blackberry Ranch.
"Damn, this job is stupid!" Merle kept complaining, but he still blew his whistle with full effort from inside the vehicle.
——
Three hours later, at Blackberry Ranch at the foot of the Great Smoky Mountains.
From the high ground outside, the sight was enough to chill anyone to the bone.
The once lush pasture was now packed shoulder to shoulder with walkers—hundreds of them.
Low, mournful groans blended into a constant, unsettling hum, like the gates of hell had opened here.
The teams returned one after another, faces pale, drenched in sweat—more from mental strain than physical exertion. When they saw the result, everyone drew in a sharp breath.
"Oh my God…" Maya murmured, lowering her binoculars.
"What the hell did we just create…" Zhou gasped.
Calista, Leah, Carver, Mike, and Bossie stood together once more.
Each of them, like Calista before, was covered head to toe in foul, rotting matter, draped in crudely processed zombie skin.
Even seasoned fighters like Carver and Mike looked pale, forcing themselves to endure the nausea.
"Remember the route. Keep a steady pace—not too fast, not too slow." Calista's voice came muffled through the cloth soaked in corpse fluids covering her mouth and nose. "We are the lead sheep of the flock. We take them… where they need to go."
The five exchanged glances and nodded, determination in their eyes.
Like true Whisperers, they silently descended from the high ground and slowly merged into the endless tide of walkers.
The walkers showed no reaction, instinctively following these moving "kin" that carried the strongest scent of their kind.
Calista adjusted her breathing, imitating the walkers' slow, unsteady, aimless gait.
Leah stayed close on her left, Carver on her right, with Mike and Bossie slightly behind. The five formed a small, eerie core.
They began to move—not guiding with noise anymore, but becoming the guides themselves—gradually turning toward East Knoxville.
Miraculously, the walkers around them began to follow.
Like a flock trailing its leader, the mindless dead instinctively followed these few strong "kin."
At first, it was only the dozens closest to them. But the movement triggered a chain reaction.
The walkers behind pushed those ahead, and the entire massive horde began to shift, like a colossal beast slowly awakening, creeping forward in a single direction.
On the high ground, Maya, Rickson, Merle, and the others watched through binoculars, palms slick with sweat.
"They… they actually did it!" Jenson said, his voice full of disbelief.
"God bless them…" Mrs. Howard made the sign of the cross.
Maya lowered her binoculars, a faint smile appearing on her face. She turned to her companions.
"We should get ready too."