They were taking so much fire from the houses to the east that everybody had to take cover behind the trucks. The snipers on top were already flat on their stomachs trying to take out as many hostiles as possible. Still, that didn't prevent them from taking casualties as soon they started disembarking.
Two of Bravo's people had to be dragged to cover. One was nothing more than a flesh wound, but the other was shot in the thigh and he was bleeding badly.
"Tango down," the snipers began saying.
"Listen up!" Harry shouted loudly, so that not only Bravo but also to everybody from Delta and Foxtrot could hear him. "The enemy is that way!" he said, pointing to the houses. "We are going to take these fuckers out, and make it so that zombies are once again the only goddamn thing we have to worry about! MOVE OUT!"
With a yell, he raised his rifle and sprinted around the truck to the objective. Not wanting to be left behind, Cameron and all those around him followed Harry without hesitation.
Once in that open the incoming fire became heavier. The fifty plus determined men and women pressed on nonetheless, only stopping if someone nearby had been hit. Drawing closer and closer to the nearest house, people began to stop for a second to fire a few rounds, and then move forward.
Cameron heard as a bullet flew right by his hear. Immediately he jumped to his left, crouched, and raised his rifle up to return fire at the window where the enemy fire originated.
"Bravo, keep putting pressure on this side of the building!" Harry ordered amid the chaos. "The other two teams circle around the back! Flank these guys!"
Doing as he was ordered, Cameron was now inching onward while keeping his sight up and firing at the hostiles taking shelter in the house. Finally he managed to reach the wall of the house, and looked back at where he had come from. People were still making their way forward by either crouch running, crawling, or moving from cover to cover.
"Cam!" Sheila shouted from the ground a few yards away. Once seeing she had his attention, she lobbed something over at Cameron. Picking it up on the roll, he discovered that it was a grenade.
The window above him had bullets flying out of it once more. Once the firing had stopped, Cameron stood up, looked through to see a bandit reloading, and shot him. Not waiting to see whom else might be inside, he pulled the pin and tossed in the grenade. Throwing himself to the ground, and planting his hands over his ears, he felt it as it exploded.
After recovering, he stood back up to take another look inside the house. It was the living room, and in it were two dead bodies in addition to Cameron's kill—along with one rolling in agony. The wounded hostile was quickly shot and killed by someone else through another window.
Carefully he climbed through the window, as did three others. Briefly wondering where everyone else was, he looked outside to see the others moving onward. Seeing as they were left with the task of clearing the house, they made a sweep of the downstairs. In the kitchen a pale hostile was on the ground trying to stop the bleeding from a wound to his shoulder. He had looked at them pleadingly, but was put down with less pity than one might have towards a rabid animal.
Next was the upstairs. One by one the rooms were opened and searched. In the last they had found one hostile alive with five prisoners. He was holding a shotgun to the head of a girl barely older than Sarah. The girl was bound, naked, and crying. And the others were in no better shape.
"Let me go or she—"
Bang! Cameron had quickly fired off a round, and caught the bastard in the left eye, causing pink mist to erupt from the back of his head. The now dead bandit toppled to the ground, and the shotgun went off as it hit the ground, though it thankfully injured no one.
"Are you okay?" Cameron asked the girl, undoing the ropes and gag.
"Uh-huh," she responded, shaking and crying.
"Your fine now," he tried to reassure her. "You're fine." It was a lie. She was not going to be fine. That poor girl was probably traumatized for life—no chance ever being a normal girl again. If those bastards that attacked Yuba had their way, then that would've been Marge and Becky's fate. Seeing all of that only made Cameron even more incensed—and the same went for the militia with him.
"I'll take them back to the trucks," Cole told them, untying the other prisoners. "Go back out there and make the fuckers pay."
None of them needed to be told twice. Outside the rest of the militia continued down the neighborhood to deal with other bunkered down hostiles. Gunfire was coming from down the street, where the militia looked to have been split between at least three houses. A bit to the north were even more battles taking place.
The two that Cameron was with charged forward to do whatever they could do to help. As Cameron was about to join them, something across the street to his left caught his eye. A small squad was running across a yard in the cul-de-sac in the distance. Those people were taking and receiving fire, as they got closer to one of the houses.
Cameron decided to go give them a hand. The squad was way off to the right putting heavy fire on the house. Then dirt suddenly puffing up around his feet, causing Cameron to stumble a bit and try to get out of the way. He tripped, forcing him to crawl away from the gunfire aimed at him.
Getting onto his knees, Cameron aimed and fired at the window where the gunfire was coming from. After a few rounds he came up empty, so he took a magazine out from his pocket to swap it out. Immediately Cameron started to return fire again.
"LIVE GRENADE!" Cameron heard somebody from the squad shout in panic.
It was followed by an explosion. Pressing their advantage, the hostiles focused all of their firepower on the distracted squad. From his position Cameron watched in horror as the disoriented squad tried to fight back, but only managing to get off a few rounds as they tried to retreat.
"Son of a bitch!" Cameron cried, now freely sprinting towards the house.
Upon reaching it, he took cover under the window. With the focus they were putting onto the larger force, who ever had been shooting at Cameron before forgot all about him. Big mistake!
Breaking free from his cover, Cameron took a quick look inside the house before hopping through the window quietly. The bandits were to his right still trying to finish off the squad.
"Haha! Look at them squirm," they were saying, shooting gleefully. "Tryin' to run? Don't think so!"
Pissed off, Cameron pointing his rifle at their backs, and shouted, "EAT SHIT AND DIE!" Cameron proceeded to unload the contents of his rifle as he swept it across the mass of hostiles. Pointed rounds of hot led entered each one of their bodies, their blood splattered, and they died as they screamed in surprise and agony.
Two of the six he shot were still alive, but Cameron fixed that soon enough. Now he wanted to go out and check on those people outside, but he couldn't. Quickly swapping out his magazine for a fresh one, he first Cameron headed upstairs to perform a quick sweep of the area. More prisoners were found in one of the rooms upstairs, so he untied one of them telling him to free the rest.
Once back outside Cameron went to check on his fallen comrades. Sadly all were dead but two. Perry, one of the injured, was lying on the ground moaning with a few rounds embedded in his bulletproof vest, and his right arm and left leg had also caught a few. The other one…
"No!" Cameron said in dismay. "Major!"
Major Kyle was worse for wear. On the side of his neck was a bloody wound, he was coughing up blood, and his breathing was labored.
"Marsh," he said weakly.
"Don't talk, Major, we'll get you some help."
"No helping me, Marsh," Kyle gasped, dribbling out more blood. "Take my radio…. Tell Harry he's in…in charge now."
"Bullshit," Cameron told him, trying to press his hands against the wound to stop the bleeding. "You may not be able to fight anymore—but you can still call the shots!" Blood was getting everywhere!
"Dammit, Marsh, listen to me! Finish the mission," Kyle ordered through gritted teeth. Suddenly his face fell slack, his eyes rolled back, and Major Kyle—the man that had taught Cameron and half the militia to shoot, Yuba's own personal R. Lee Ermey, and the leader who was there during every venture into zombie country—was dead.