The gunshots echoed like thunder in the cramped Humvee. Empty shell casings piled at our feet as the horde pressed against the vehicle, their rotting fingers clawing through the cracked windows.
"Down to my last mag!" Mara shouted over the moans.
I jammed the rifle barrel through a shattered window and fired. A biter's head exploded. "We need to move—now!"
A Sudden Roar
The growl of an engine cut through the chaos. Headlights blinded us as a armored personnel carrier plowed through the undead, its mounted machine gun mowing down the horde.
"You two alive in there?" A soldier in a gas mask yelled from the APC's hatch.
Mara didn't lower her pistol. "Depends who's asking."
"Sector 7 sent us to sweep for survivors. Get in if you want to live."
We didn't hesitate.
The Bitter Truth
The APC's interior smelled of blood and diesel. The soldier—Sergeant Vance—handed us canteens as we sped away.
"Redfield's gone," he said. "Overrun yesterday. Sector 7's the last stronghold."
Mara's eyes narrowed, "and the military shooting their own?"
Vance's grip tightened on his rifle. "Containment protocol. Once you're bit..."
A sudden lurch. The APC screeched to a halt.
"Contact front!" the driver screamed.
Through the viewport, I saw them—hundreds of biters, blocking the road. But these were different. Faster. Organized.
"Oh God," Vance whispered. "They're evolving."
The Final Sprint
"There's a drainage tunnel half a click east!" I yelled. "We can lose them underground!"
Vance tossed us grenades. "Cover your ears!"
The explosion tore through the horde's center. We sprinted through the smoke, bullets whizzing past as the soldiers covered our retreat.
The tunnel entrance loomed—a rusted grate hanging by one bolt. Mara and I squeezed through as Vance turned to make his last stand.
"Tell Sector 7 what you saw!" were his last words before the horde swallowed him.
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