A lot of days.

Chapter 23: Slow Dive

The Tank found its way to the top level, and started a rampage across the survivor's defensive position. The right flank was falling apart, being sandwiched between from both below and to the side. There was no escape downwards, and thus was relegated to hit and run tactics. Their enemies weren't exactly slow, however, as more and more kept getting picked off.

Bailey and Francis stuck close, and ran alongside the walls themselves. It was a good thing that at this level everything was connected, and they could potentially rendezvous with Louis and the rest of the left flank should they make it. Unfortunately, the rocket blast from earlier created a gap between the walls, one which they could not jump through. It was possible to climb around the edge, but that would cause a great slowdown in speed, and render them incapable of defending themselves. Worse yet, their ammunitions were running out, and nobody was in a position to get any.

"Are we going across?" They were at the edge. The Tank was occupied with other things, but there were still random infected on their tail. Francis provided cover fire as the Captain examined their position.

"Gap is too wide. We have to climb down." A closer look. "We go one by one, else we're defenceless."

"You're going first then." It was something Francis didn't expect himself saying.

"What?"

"I'll be fine on this side." The biker knelt for a better shot, and ushered Bailey to leave. "Can't say the same for you."

"Cheeky." The Captain noticed the smirk, but there was no use debating this. Strapping the rifle to his back, he hanged onto the ledge, and started balancing himself on it. This was the quicker but far riskier option, as it left him completely open still.

Not a lot he could do when he was punished for it. Bailey had not make it half way through before he felt his neck wrapped and tugged back by what felt like an organic rope. He struggled at first, but the path he was walking off of didn't have enough ground for him to stand and make a firm retaliation. If he got pulled off of here, his body would hit the ground and die before it was even dragged to the Smoker.

The good news was, it was shot off just in time.

Before he could even find the source, Bailey managed to squat and grab onto whatever he was walking on. Peering from the source of the gun shit, he saw a slender figure disappearing out of sight, apparently driven off by the infected being drawn to its position. It wasn't hard to figure out who it was.

Bailey was back on his feet soon enough, and started moving again. This time, however, he wasn't confident enough to stand straight up and walk by balancing his sides, instead traced across the arch and held himself firm by the arms. It slowed him down, but was far safer.

Francis was doing a good enough job, not noticing most of what was happening at all. He only had ammo in his pistol left, and it was becoming quite inefficient at stopping packs. This was like a true war he had gotten mixed up in.

"What a pain."

Francis slapped his last rounds into the weapon, and held his position. There was no longer room for expanding them in prevention, instead only when kills could be secured.

Easier said than done.

"Hey!" The Captain was screaming from the other side. "Move it!"

Francis nodded, and instantly stashed his firearms. He basically dropped off the ledge, and took the same route Bailey just did. He did it the safe way, however, hanging off the ledge instead of walking on top of it.

"Right flank, come in!" The Captain was radioed in.

"Left flank, this is Captain Bailey."

"Captain, we're clearing up on this side." Good news at last. "There can't be many left."

"There aren't many left here as well." Bailey spoke the truth. There was only the Tank from before and a few strays. He did, however, lose his entire squad to achieve this. "On both sides."

"Roger that, Captain." A brief pause of gun shots. "Left flank out."

"Scouts, come in." While he gathered information, Bailey was still watching the ledge on the other side. However, there truly were far fewer bodies moving around at this point. "What are we expecting?"

"There are only two waves left, Captain. There're two Tanks on the last wave though."

Bailey took the time to snipe out the Smoker from before.

"Got it, Bailey out." Shutting off the radio, he knew that everything was coming to an end. There were barely any soldiers left, and still quite a bit of opposition. Things were still winnable, however, and none have yet to reach the underground bunker protecting the refugees. "Francis, you ok?"

"Yeah, just slow."

…

"We clear?" Louis leaned against the support beam in exhaustion. This was the longest he had ever fought without any intention of running. Usually they'd rely on safe houses and such position, abandoning wherever they came from just as soon as the next rescue vehicle was ready to have the aboard. However, holding out a defensive position was so different.

"Clear." The squad he was with had four people left. They were positioned on the third level of the left flank, tasked with stopping any infected from climbing up the stairs.

At this point, the entire second level had been lost, but the numbers down there weren't exactly overwhelming. When the infected was in hordes they trampled positional advantage, but now that their numbers were thin enough that they had to be funnelled through choke points, it was rather smooth sailing.

Louis did note the number of people still defending the base. The majority were lost when the gate was first broken through. Of those who were fortunate enough to be able to retreat up, an upwards of seventy percent has lost their lives. There were only a few dozen soldiers left, and all of them were pinned to the left flank.

He briefly wondered how the rest of his team was doing. Bailey radioed in earlier, but didn't mention Francis. Zoey and Cindy were supposed to be situated within the infirmary, also on the right side. There was little he could do for them from here, but historically Cindy had proven to be quite capable, but she never had been reliable. This was a terrible feeling, as there would hardly be a point for him to stay here like this when his teammates were in danger. However, that was simply a matter of circumstance, and no one was to blame. He just wished he could still return to them once this was all over.

With that, he held firm a machete. In order to conserve ammunition, it had proved to be effective to simply cut off the limbs of the infected as they tried to climb up, effectively eliminating their threat, instead of outright trying to kill them with bullets. The chopping was rather easy, but being in close range did hold a certain amount of risk. It limited his vision, as well as making cover fire difficult. It was not really a problem at this point anymore, however, as even with only four other to help, it wasn't hard to get a hold on the number of things coming at him at once.

"Hey," He turned his head. Perhaps he was simply not giving his teammates enough benefit of doubt.

"Yeah?"

"Can you radio Bailey for me?" Still, it was crucial that he knew. Doing pointless things was not what he appreciated. Years being in management taught him that.

"What for?"

"I need to ask him about a friend." Francis first, which Bailey should probably knew about. He wasn't sure how he was going to get a hold of Zoey and the Witch, however.

"Alright." The soldier was being very cooperative. It was good timing as well, seeing as there wasn't a huge amount of work for them at the moment until the last hordes arrived, which according to scouts would not be for another five minutes or so. Before then, the group only had to watch out for trickling climbers trying to vault up the walls from the outside. "Right flank, come in."

Two seconds.

"Captain Bailey, come in." Previous communications informed those at this position that very few of right flank survived, and this lack of answer wasn't doing their mental health any favours. "Captain!"

"Damn it." Louis was up on his feet. No news means bad news. Either they're all dead, or they're too busy to answer. Either way he was not staying here. "Can you hold?"

"Yes, but our orders are to stay guard here." Despite the protest, Louis was already running off.

"That's your orders, boys." He didn't even bother looking back. It was going to take a lot more than a life and death firefight for him to look out for anyone else. "I'm no soldier."

Leaving the team by themselves, but perceivably capable, he was determined to get to the other side. It wasn't a quick run, as being grabbed by anything because of not paying attention would be the worst way to go.

He arrived at the edge of the large gap separating the two sides.

"Hey!" A familiar voice.

"You just can't die, can you?" From below, he could barely see the silhouette of the biker, arms hanging out from above. "And you got me worried too."

"We apologise for not taking the radio message." Captain Bailey was not so far behind. "We had a problem to take care of."

Francis climbed down to the lower level, as pretty much all infected has been cleared from the area, at least for now. The Captain left for his men.

"You see Zoey anywhere?" The biker inspected his own firearms. They weren't in the best of conditions, and would need to be replaced soon if possible. "Bailey told me he spotted her earlier, but I didn't hear gun shots. I can't see anything either."

"She's probably fine, though I can't say that moving like that is going to be good for her arm." Louis handed over his pistol for the time being. Whatever it was, they could see the end approaching. After these last waves, there should be no more. They could finally just sit down and recuperate, perhaps settle down finally.

A light drop.

There was a light leakage near where they were sitting. Drops of water were dropping from the plumbing system. That wasn't what drew Louis' attention, however.

He simply stared at the scene. Noises were heard from the distance, but it was the pebbles rolling in the humid wind, the batch of sun light he was bathing in, and the sense of selfless belonging that took him back. He saw in himself a strange sagacity. There was no explanation for this transcendence, except a point to the future.

Suddenly, he felt Francis' palm on his shoulder.

"Bailey's calling."

"Yeah."

They left to regroup.

…

"How many do we have left?"

"Twenty five in total." It was an extremely low number compared to the platoon present before the battle. However, suffering heavy losses was something inevitable. Not being massacred was a hopeful prediction, and with that in mind they were doing quite fine for themselves. "Scouts say two waves, around a hundred forty random, half a dozen specials, and one or two Tanks."

"Why don't we know the exact number?" Francis loaded his brand new shotgun. If this was the final battle, there was no way he was leaving without his favourite toy.

"Scout was K.I.A before confirming."

That was the reality of the situation, and at this point so much blood was already shed on the grounds of this fort that nothing like that would surprise them. All they could really do was gather up what they have left and make a last stand.

"Do we have any 'nades left?"

"A couple."

A sigh was heard. Time had come.

The initial horde had one Tank accompanying it. There were always ominous threats lurking about, but due to the positioning of the island it was fairly easy to spot out most obvious attack vectors. The random stranglers were mopped up quite quick, while a dedicated group of ten was to handle the Tank.

The soldiers might not be aware of it, holed up in this fort for so long, but Tanks have been getting harder and harder to deal with per Francis and Louis' experience. They used to be giant brutes that just charge at you, something that would go down after a few rounds of gun fire and literal fire. Ever since the group arrived at the Keys, the Tanks they've faced were both resilient and smarter, often requiring a significant amount of ammunition to take down. In this battle alone, Tanks actually required sacrifices to handle a lot of the time. With not that many people left, such an option became extremely hard to justify.

This one was no different. It actually preferred throwing boulders and slabs of concretes, almost like cover fire, to aid in the attack. Only once it was left almost alone did it start approaching. Its speed was naturally unmatched, and thick hardened skin meant bullets hardly dealt much damage to it. That said, the advantage of this defensive position played a large role in the soldiers slipping away from its clutches at every turn.

Without warning came the next wave, with another Tank, and a bigger one at that. Now that there were two of these towering beasts in play, both close range and from afar, the situation was becoming a lot bleaker. Since the gate was long destroyed, not much was left to stop the overflow of infected into the compound. They were dashing and climbing towards their target, mindless and driven purely by instincts. Mixed within were looming threats of Jockeys, catching out stranded defenders and overwhelmed them in their own guts and blood.

Francis and Louis stuck together at this junction. They had far more experience with these kinds of high-stake situations, and were far more comfortable being in a smaller group. Furthermore, though they were trying their best, they also didn't plan to stick their neck out for anyone else. This lead to a few risky casualties, which perhaps could have been avoided, but nothing came of it.

"Captain!"

Bailey's small squad was being overwhelmed. The first Tank died trying to get at them, and was successful in causing serious damage. In a war like this, a broken leg meant death, and a lot of people were left behind, even though the space they were manoeuvring around was hardly large. It was all coming down very bad.

That was when the Captain was grabbed.

Pinned down, Bailey screamed for help, as he was witnessing his flesh being torn apart by the claws of the adept Hunter. There was no aid to come, however, as the ground around was corrosive, deterring all possible assistance until it was too late. The man was barely conscious by the time he was freed, and was no longer able to fight back. He was quickly swept up under the remnant of the rampaging horde.

A shot was suddenly heard from a distance. On the other side of concrete ravine was Zoey and Cindy, to everyone's surprises. Naturally, they rushed to reveal their position in order to provide aid. It's terribly difficult to regroup with the rest of the squad from their position, but they were safe enough. Zoey was picking off enemies one by one with her pistol. It wasn't an amazingly efficient job, but she was good enough a shot that it was actually helpful. The Witch just stood there to cover their ground, fending off those that ventured to close with her immense strength and claws.

The last Tank soon became too close for comfort. He was in the middle of the floors, wrecking formations left and right.

Without a word, last Molotov in hand, Louis sprinted at it. He couldn't just throw the fire directly at it, risking napalm-like effect compromising their high ground advantage. It was also no longer possible to just kite it around, since they were running out of gunmen.

He skated beneath the behemoth, firing pot shots to draw it attention. There were about eight people left, not counting him and Francis. If those people die, there would not be enough cover fire for anyone else to survive.

Francis simply stood where he was, not even bothering to question his teammate, instead calmly delivering constant firepower as needed.

Louis safe got around to the back. The Tank was burning, and it was only a matter of time before it went down. However, in this enraged state, it was far more dangerous and swift. Bellowing, it stormed at him. He had no chance, and Louis was caught in its grip, dowsed in the cocktail flame. If this were to go on, he would undoubtedly be burnt alive.

"Cindy," The Witch flinched at Zoey's commanding tone. Her voice wasn't usually as serious, but this was an emergency. "Kneel and hold your hand out."

Cindy did exactly that. Zoey stepped on those rugged hands, grenade ready.

"Throw me at Louis! Don't miss!" A moment of hesitation from the Witch. "Please!"

Next thing she knew, Zoey was flung across the air and straight towards the scene of the action. Her momentum was far greater than anticipated, but it only made things easier. The pipe bomb flew as soon as she was thrown, landing squarely at the midriff and the staggering the towering beast, releasing Louis from its grasp. Zoey managed to grab a hold of him on the fly through, and the two of them landed right on Francis, who was there waiting to catch them.

The Tank was eaten up in the flames, with an earth-shattering roar as the flesh crumbled.

"Louis!" Zoey could care less about anything else.
He wasn't responding. His clothes were half-burnt, and his joints were bleeding just from being crushed by the Tank.

"Louis, come on man!"

There was no answer.

All around them, the infected number was thinning out rapidly. Without a fearsome leader to distract the defenders, stranded individuals of the horde had no chance against a well-trained Marine squad, even if there were only five pair of arms left on the team. They were all safe. It was a hard fought, well deserved victory.

Just not a complete one.

"Is he alright?" Cindy finally made her way to the other side. She saw Zoey gripping Louis by the hand. She saw Francis with his back to the wall, silently sighing. She saw the last of the marines flock over the dead, carrying the bodies of their old friends and people who may still be alive to wherever. The soldiers that were hidden inside the refugee compound was also coming out. They were greeted with dead teammates and a bloodied battlefield.

After a while, the Witch received no reaction. Perplexed, she sat down next to the unconscious black man, and the girl settled next to him.

"Hey Zoey." Francis spoke with great pressure in his voice. "If you don't answer, Cindy's gonna start getting worried."

With that, the teenager turned her head to look at the Witch. Cindy, having participated in close range fighting, was covered with blood and guts. She looked fine otherwise, though.

"Louis, he…" The man's palm was placed on his chest. "is gone ."

"Zoey…"

"I don't want to be here right now." Zoey, left hand on the ground and right hand useless, hung her head back. Her stare was empty. "But I can't leave."

"So we're staying here, aren't we?" She nodded at Francis' inquiry. "Thought so."

"We've been on the run for too long." With her face in her hand, Zoey wiped away the tears that were forming. There was happiness, as what she was looking for after all these times had finally been attained, but the bitterness of a friend's death was too close. She would have rather given up on the idea of the fort than having Louis die like this. "I don't want to go anywhere again."

"Zoey, if you don't want to…" Cindy wasn't choking on her own words, but she was clearly affected as well. While she and Louis didn't have the history of trudging through Philadelphia together like the original group, he'd been very welcoming to her ever since their meeting. They didn't communicate too much, but being together in a close group on a boat for a month would make anyone close.

"Oh how I wish you would lift me off my feet and carry me onto the sunset, Cindy." Zoey had on nothing but a pained smile. It was calm, at the very least. She had already lost too much to get here, and she intended to make sure that would never happen to anyone else. "But we still have work to do."

END