Luke used the moment to advance three more meters behind him.
They moved like this, fire, cover, advance, each step calculated, each shot buying time, until they could reach a solid building, a car, anything that would finally give them proper cover, or a vehicle to make their escape.
But it seemed their enemies had a death wish. They swarmed toward Dave and Luke like moths to a flame, fully aware that charging in only increased their chances of dying, yet they came anyway. Because of that relentless assault, both men burned through most of their ammunition.
Even with extended magazines, two hundred rounds per assault rifle, it still wasn't enough against enemies pouring in like flies. Sweat beaded on Dave's forehead as the realization sank in. When he glanced at Luke, he saw the same concern mirrored in his eyes.
They hadn't brought enough spare magazines. The backups had already been used during the retreat. Now, Dave was down to fifty rounds, and Luke had only sixty left.
