A wall of fire roared to life along the western treeline, flames climbing fast as fuel-soaked branches caught and spread. The night recoiled from it—shadows ripped apart, darkness fleeing in jagged pieces as orange light tore through the woods.
The infected howled.
Not like animals.
Like something furious at being denied.
"Now!" I shouted.
The order tore out of me raw, final.
Rifles cracked in controlled bursts from elevated positions. Muzzle flashes stuttered like lightning. Bodies dropped in the firelight—infected stumbling, burning, collapsing into the dirt before they could close the distance.
There were more than a dozen— far more than what we'd seen earlier.
Yet they hadn't expected this.
They'd learned our patterns. Our hesitation.
But not our desperation. My desperation.
I moved forward without waiting for cover.
An infected burst from the smoke to my left—half its body already on fire, skin sloughing as it ran anyway.
I fired quickly.
