The F-16s came in fast.
Their engines screamed across the night sky above San Fernando, Pampanga, cutting through the thunder of machine guns and the endless howling of the infected below.
Outpost Echo was still firing.
The walls shook under the constant rhythm of heavy weapons.
M240s poured long bursts into the closest hordes.
M2 Brownings hammered the road approaches with brutal force.
Mk19 grenade launchers thumped again and again from elevated fighting positions, sending 40mm grenades into the packed bodies outside the wire.
Explosions flashed across the fields.
The infected kept coming.
They climbed over bodies.
They crawled through blood.
They pushed through razor wire until their own weight crushed the ones trapped beneath them.
Spotlights swept across the darkness and revealed more pale faces rushing through the fields.
Not hundreds anymore.
Not a few thousand.
The entire countryside looked like it was moving.
