Across the burning fields of Pampanga, the fight only grew worse.
The armored battalion held.
Barely.
Tanks continued firing from the centerline while Bradleys and infantry covered the flanks. The ground in front of them was no longer soil or asphalt. It had become a carpet of bodies, burned vehicles, and craters filled with blackened water.
The infected still came.
The first wave had already been gutted by artillery, aircraft, missiles, tanks, and machine guns.
But the next wave was now approaching.
Larger.
Denser.
And moving with purpose.
Far north of San Fernando, the recon drones tracked the new mass advancing through the ruined corridors left by destroyed bridges and collapsed highways. The infrastructure strikes had slowed them down, but not enough.
They were spreading out now.
Moving through open fields.
Using riverbanks.
Crossing shallow waterways.
Passing through dead towns and broken neighborhoods.
The infected had lost the road network.
