Chapter 45: Urban Warfare

18 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

Captain Williams was not happy.

His superior, an experienced Major with a knack for urban warfare, was dead – torn in half by a hooded man with viscous claws. As such, it had fallen to him to take command of the rearguard detachment and cover the withdrawal from Newburg.

Gunfire clattered in the distance, intermingled with the sounds of explosions.

Fuck it all to hell, the young man cursed to himself.

They had fought fiercely for the city for over a week, but it belonged to the Infected now. The past twenty-four hours had been a miserable experience, with their remaining posts in the streets overrun. The main forces had already been successfully evacuated, and the remainder of the rearguard was now retreating to the airport, but there were still many soldiers trapped within the city.

Williams' standing orders were to hold the airport until 0530 hours the following morning, when a C-130 Hercules transport would arrive for the final withdrawal from Newburg.

His earpiece exploded with static. "Captain! They've overrun the outer district!" a desperate voice shouted over distorted gunshots.

"Fall back to the airport perimeter," the young captain ordered curtly. Adjusting the frequency, he spoke into the microphone again. "Forward units are coming in hot. Have the M2 machine-gun emplacements set up just outside the terminal, and ready to lay down covering fire immediately."

A rapidly-collapsing outpost. No air support. No reinforcements. Williams sighed and put his game-face on. It was not going to be easy.

"I can't believe you're still wearing that tie, Louis," Francis scoffed between handfuls of Milo cereal, straight out of the box. "What, you got a meeting on later or something?"

"You know who's going to survive this mess, Francis?" Bill said. "It ain't the fella makin' jokes."

"Pfft. We're in the world's biggest bar-fight right now – I don't plan on backin' out so easy."

The considerable amount of food they had managed to scrounge up in the darkened aisles of the supermarket was too big to all fit into the backpack, and so the group had taken it upon themselves to finish what was left for lunch. Zoey considered them to be quite lucky – between this supermarket and the grocery store they had found back in Riverside two days ago, they had managed to eat quite well. Despite the fact that most of what they were eating was junk-food, she figured that the excessive running, jumping and shooting satisfied the Heart Foundation's recommended thirty minutes of exercise per day.

If the Heart Foundation even existed anymore.

"It's weird," she commented after a spoonful of cold canned soup. "I mean, normally the supermarkets and grocery stores are the first things to get picked clean as the panicked crowds try to flee from the cities."

"You and your movie shit," Bill muttered as he took a smoke break. "You need a new hobby, kid."

"Can I bum a cigarette?"

"Smartass."

There was a good-natured silence as the group finished off the perishable food that they could not bring with them.

"No one was ready for it, I guess," Louis said suddenly. Seeing everyone's eyes on him, he decided to elaborate. "I mean, it only took a few days for things to spiral out of control. By the time people realised what was happening, it was already too late."

A rather sombre silence enveloped the scene at his words.

"We all set to go?" Bill finally said, lifting the M4.

Everyone nodded and stood. Zoey walked over to where she had left her Winchester rifle leaning against the aisle shelf and slung it back over her shoulder. She turned to pick up the now-laden backpack, only to find Louis putting it on.

"It's alright, I got this," he said. "You're carrying that big, mean hunting rifle now, while both my pistol and Glock can fit into my holster. Besides, you've been on backpack duty long enough."

"Thanks, Louis," she replied with a warm smile. He was a good friend. "It's purple – at least it sort of matches your tie," she teased. Seeing him wearing him such a girly backpack, she could not resist a little light-hearted ribbing.

"Stay close, and keep quiet," Bill said as he led the way toward the exit. "No unnecessary noise." He looked pointedly at Zoey with this statement, and she flushed red with embarrassment.

17 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

Thick and heavy smoke choked the sky above the city, basking it in an eternal twilight. Zoey gripped her pistol tighter as the group made its way down the street, which was becoming steadily more choked with bodies and rubble. Fires burned freely.

"Wonder where the army guys are," Louis said quietly to Bill, moving up to walk next to him. "Or all the Infected, for that matter. Haven't seen anyone since we left the supermarket."

"We're sure as hell seein' evidence of all the fighting, though," the older man grunted, a smoking cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He cast a sidelong glance at the darkened windows they passed and scowled. "I don't like it."

"The army's still gotta be out there," Louis pointed out. "We heard gunfire not all that long ago."

"That could just be other civilians who got their hands on some hardware. They're just as hosed as we are."

"Don't be like that, man. It doesn't help. I'm sure there's still someone over at the airport."

Bill chose not to answer, his wary eyes darting back and forth. He maintained a tight grip on the M4 carbine, ready to fire at a moment's notice. He did not like the way it was so quiet. A wandering Infected here and there he could handle, easily dispatched quickly and quietly with a broken neck.

But aside from the overwhelming carnage, the streets were empty.

His frown deepened as he thought of the large numbers of people they had to flee from quite recently. They were definitely out there. The question was where? The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end whenever they passed a doorway or window. He wondered if the Infected had retained the thought process and higher brain-function to comprehend taking cover inside buildings, to avoid smoke, and visual detection.

It was a troubling thought, in more ways than one.

16 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE

The group remained in tight-knit formation, covering each other as they followed the streets for roughly five kilometres. The war veteran's apprehension manifested itself in a spine-tingling chill whenever they passed alleyways, windows, doorways and other possible points of ambush. Even though they had yet to be attacked, he could not shake the feeling that they were being watched. Was it the two Hunters from earlier? Or something else?

Maybe it was nothing…

"They blocked off the street," Louis' quiet voice broke him out of his reverie.

He looked to see a grim concrete partition spanning the length of the road ahead, its top festooned with barbed-wire. Two abandoned machine-gun emplacements were positioned on top of the barrier, and the barbed-wire was choked up with bodies.

"What the hell is this horseshit, another barricade?"

"Great," Francis growled. "Now where to?"

Bill found himself eyeing a building on the corner of a nearby intersection. He could make out more barbed-wire strewn across the edges of the roof. "Tactics for this situation call for slowly taking control of the streets, setting up forward points at various key locations. The roof of that building over there was probably a spotting post or command centre. The army would have set up a safe avenue for their soldiers to move through. If we get to that rooftop, we'll be able to find it."

"Fuck that. Look over there. That's gotta be it." The biker pointed down a narrow street just to the west side of the barricade, the road liberally covered with bullet-ridden bodies.

The older man had to hand it to him – he was probably right. The street was narrow – a perfect choke-point, where snipers could rain down fire from high windows and rooftops. Heading down that street would probably be their best bet.

"I still want to check out that spotting post, though," he said curtly, crushing his cigarette under his boot. "There might be useful information up there, maybe even a radio."

Francis grumbled but led the way back to the building regardless.

"Stay positive, guys!" Louis called out. "I've got a good feeling about this."

"You're probably right, for once," he said casually as he opened the door. "We haven't seen any Infected in a while. There probably won't be any in here."

He received a savage growl in way of a response as the door swung open to reveal a man crouched down in combat-readiness.

"Oh, fuck!"

A blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the streets as the Hunter pounced, tackling the biker several metres back and into a car.

It also just so happened that the car was alarmed.

The piercing wail rose up into the air as the side-lights flashed, and the look of horror on everyone's faces grew more and more pronounced.

Francis, on the other hand, could care less about the alarm. "Get this fucker off me!" he roared, feeling a stab of pain shoot through his arm as the Hunter's claws dug into it. Its other hand was raised as it prepared to tear his throat out.

It never got the chance, as a well-aimed pistol shot, courtesy of Bill, splattered its brains across the car windshield.

"How's that good feeling treatin' ya now?" Francis growled as he stood up, brushing himself off.

"We've gotta get away from here, now!" Louis shouted over the shrill car alarm.

The rest of the group was in agreement, and they took off down the road and turned left at the barricade into the chokepoint, in an effort to put as much distance between them and the car as possible. However, steady streams of Common Infected had already begun to spill out of doorways and from further down the narrow street. The four survivors immediately opened fire, the thunder of their guns adding to the already-incredible noise.

"Let's move, people!" Bill barked, swinging the assault carbine around in a wide arc that cut down a multitude of ravenous humans. Bullets sparked the road and walls, amid flowers of blood that erupted from torsos and limbs.

The situation was going to hell in a hand-basket very quickly.

"Where to?!" Louis yelled, gunning down three Common Infected bearing down on them with a short burst of fire from his Glock 18 machine pistol.

"Into that hotel over there!" Zoey called as she ran toward the front steps. "Quick! Get inside! We'll be able to fight them off from in here!" The others made to follow her, but were taken aback by her dashing back out a moment later. "Oh, shit! Do NOT go in there!"

A cacophony of howling and screaming rose up as a large crowd people came barrelling out of the doorway after her in hot pursuit.

"Holy fuck!" Francis cried. The barrel of his MP5 spat flame as he unloaded an entire clip into the horde hot on Zoey's heels.

"Stand clear!" Louis called out. "Throwing pipe-bomb!" He armed the device, initiating a blinking red light and a loud series of beeps. I hope this works… he thought grimly, throwing it as far down the street as he could manage.

The result was instantaneous.

The Infected in the immediate area tilted their heads to the sky as one, seemingly in search of the infernal beeping racket that was disturbing the peace they so desperately desired. It was incredible – the thunder of guns and car alarms was enough to draw them in from far off, but the beeping of the pipe-bomb stirred them into a frenzy. They raced toward the bomb, clawing at each other to be the first to get to the noise – to tear it into tiny pieces and make it stop –

BOOM.

The survivors did not see the explosion – they were too busy running for their lives into the nearest open doorway to take cover from prying and ravenous eyes. But they sure as hell heard it, as well as the dull thuds of countless body-parts that had been thrown clear of the blast.

"Stay down and keep quiet," Bill hissed as they took cover behind a receptionist desk. "That pipe-bomb ought to have distracted them – no more shooting until they lose interest."

"We'd better not be found then," Francis muttered.

The howling just outside in the streets continued as a horde closed in from all directions. Louis found himself praying to whoever would listen that they would not be found.