The only sounds in the parking lot were the sharp cracks of rifles, the dry hiss of empty magazines, and the dull thud of rounds striking decayed flesh.
Walking along the defensive line, Andrew scanned the perimeter. The barricade of cars was holding, but the dead were pressing harder with every passing second.
"Keep your spacing!" he shouted, voice cutting through the chaos. "Short bursts! Headshots only!"
The line of National Guard soldiers and police officers obeyed, firing in measured rhythm, brass casings clattering at their feet.
Andrew stepped forward, raising his suppressed MP5. Each shot he fired dropped a walker that had pushed too close to the barricade — methodical, calm, deliberate.
He continued to move along the line, checking positions, keeping his voice steady. "Stay focused! You've got this — aim high, conserve your ammo!"
Farther down, several defenders shifted to plug a thinning section of the line, while others reloaded with shaking hands. The two Rangers on overwatch from a nearby rooftop provided precise supporting fire, eliminating any walkers attempting to climb over the cars.
"Watch your flanks!" Andrew called out as a few rounds sparked off metal. " The rooftop will offer support against the ones getting too close!"
The air reeked of gunpowder, rot, and sweat. The pile of bodies in front of the barricade was growing, but so was the crowd pressing in behind it.
Behind the defensive line, the civilians who had been shouting and pushing minutes earlier now moved in frightened silence. Under the direction of several soldiers, they were being led away from the parking lot — down a side corridor and toward the football field, where civilian tents are located.
"Move them through the west wing!" Andrew ordered. "Keep that hall clear!"
A brief pause — then a shouted acknowledgment from one of the soldiers moving the civilians.
Andrew turned back to the line, firing another tight burst. "Hold steady!"
The rhythmic gunfire continued, echoing between the buildings. Every shot counted, every movement kept under pressure.
Further down the line, one of the two Rangers that accompanied Andrew, let loose a controlled burst from his M4, cutting down a cluster pushing against a weak point. His teammate, moved to reinforce, taking position between two police officers whose rifles clicked empty.
Seeing the number of walkers beginning to drop, Andrew tapped his comm. "Roof team — status?"
"Clear for now, no visual on anymore walkers approaching," came the reply through static. "Multiple stragglers remaining along the defensive lin, but no breach."
Andrew exhaled, steadying his rifle. "Good. Mentain overwatch and keep me updated."
" Copy." Came the quick reply.
Andrew took aim once more — short, controlled bursts — methodical, efficient. Each walker that dropped took tension off the defenders.
The number of walkers was beginning to dwindle, dozens of corpses now stacked against the cars like a grotesque barricade. The remaining dead grew more aggressive — snarling, clawing, climbing over the heaps of their own to reach the living. They moved with a feral persistence, their limbs slipping on the blood-slick metal, but any that got too close ended up with a bullet through the skull before they could lunge at anyone.
Andrew chambered another round, lining up his next shot, when the rhythm of the gunfire shifted. New bursts echoed from elsewhere on the other side of the school — short, sharp, and scattered.
The gunfire around the parking lot began to fade, as the few remaining walkers were picked off by the rangers . Then, cutting through the haze of smoke produced by the constant gunfire and echoing between the buildings, came a deeper, heavier sound — the thunderous roar of the .50 cal opening up somewhere along the perimeter.
Andrew recognized the distinct rhythm of the weapon — followed by the sporadic crack of rifles from other directions around the school.
He grabbed his radio from his vest. "Ranger team, main entrance — report!"
Static hissed for a moment before a voice came through, calm but breathless. "Twenty, maybe twenty-five hostiles approaching the front. Looks like they got drawn by the gunfire. We've got it under control, sir."
As the Ranger spoke, the .50 cal barked again — a deep, rattling growl that shook the air. Andrew walked to the edge of the barricade and glanced toward the sound just as the gunner swung the weapon, tracers cutting across the dusk. A cluster of seven walkers charging from the street were shredded instantly — torn apart before they could even reach the barricade.
"Copy that," Andrew said, lowering the radio. "Keep that sector secure and watch your ammo."
"Roger that," came the quick reply.
Andrew turned toward a nearby soldier leaning against the hood of a car, swapping magazines. "Get on comms with the other defense points," he ordered. "I want a full status update now."
"Yes, sir!" the soldier replied, grabbing his radio from his vest.
While he waited for the soldier to report back, Andrew keyed his radio again, switching to another channel.
"Rooftop team. You have visual on the rest of the perimeter?"
A few seconds of static passed before a voice came through, slightly distorted by interference but steady.
"Affirmative, sir. We've got eyes on most of the perimeter — north, and partial view of the east side."
Andrew's gaze swept over the parking lot barricade. With the last of the walkers being picked off, the figh in the parking lot ended.
"Report," he said.
"Multiple contacts along the fence lines," the Ranger replied. "They're pressing hard — mostly north side. Looks like they're trying to force through the wire. No breach yet, but they're stacking up fast, some are attempting to climb over."
Andrew exhaled through his nose, looking toward the direction of the northern fence though he couldn't see it from here.
"Understood," he said. "Keep your eyes on the northern sector and reposition to support them. We'll move to reinforce both sides."
"Copy that. Prepositioning."
Static faded, replaced once more by the ambient sounds of distant gunfire and the low, mindless moan of the dead.
Andrew lowered the radio and turned, eyes settling on the soldier still relaying messages down the line. The man looked tense, his voice quick as he switched between channels.
The soldier finally lowered his radio, face tense beneath a sheen of sweat. "Sir," he said, catching his breath, "The dead are pressing in on multiple sides. The defenders on the north and east fences are requesting reinforcement — too many targets, not enough rifles."
Andrew nodded once, decisive. "Tell them to keep formation tight and mentain composure. Reinforcements are on the way."
"Yes, sir." The soldier turned back to the radio, voice sharp as he relayed the message across the channels.
Andrew took a moment to survey the parking lot. The immediate threat here was gone — bodies lay stacked in twisted heaps against the makeshift barricade. The defenders were already reloading, checking weapons, catching what breath they could.
"Alright," Andrew said, turning toward the line. "I need a team to come with me, this isn't over yet."
The soldiers and officers looked up, with small hints of hesitation, but understanding. Andrew pointed to several of them in quick succession. "Alright — all of you, on me. We're moving to reinforce the northern and eastern fence. The rest will protect the parking lot."
Those remaining began repositioning around the barricade, weapons raised, eyes scanning the distance for any new movement.
Andrew adjusted his grip on the MP5. "Let's move," he said, his tone calm but firm.
The small group broke into a jog, boots crunching against asphalt as they moved toward the growing sound of gunfire at the far end of the compound.
They moved quickly through the hallways of Cranwell High, the sound of distant gunfire echoing faintly through the walls — a steady, unnerving rhythm that reminded everyone the fight was far from over.
Andrew led the way, weapon in hand, his boots striking the floor in sharp, measured steps. Behind him, two Rangers and a mix of National Guard soldiers and police officers followed, their gear rattling softly as they moved.
The halls of the school were now unrecognizable — desks pushed aside, windows boarded, maps and posters hanging crookedly on the walls. The scent of sweat, gun oil, and dust hung heavy in the air.
As they passed through one of the main corridors, civilians huddled against the walls — families, teachers, students — their eyes wide and anxious. Some whispered prayers, others just stared at the armed men rushing past. A few of the younger ones clutched blankets or small bags, holding on to what little they had left.
Near one corner, two police officers stood guard, rifles at the ready. They gave quick nods as Andrew passed.
"Keep those people calm," Andrew told them. "If anything changes, you radio it in — immediately."
"Yes, sir," one of them replied.
Andrew and his group pressed on, the muffled echo of automatic fire outside growing louder as they neared the back exit that led toward the northern perimeter. Through the narrow windows along the hall, flashes of muzzle fire could be seen in the distance — bright bursts against the dark outline of the school grounds.
"They're still holding," one of the Rangers muttered, glancing toward the lights beyond the fence. "But not for long."
Andrew keyed his radio on the frequency of the defending soldiers. "All units at the northern fence, this is Lieutenant Mercer. We're en route with reinforcements. Hold the line and maintain formation."
A burst of static, then a breathless voice replied,
"Copy, sir. We're running low but holding. Heavy pressure on the north fence — they're piling against the wire."
Andrew nodded to himself, quickening his pace. "Let's move. We don't have time to waste."
The group hurried down the last stretch of hallway.
They reached the rear doors and pushed through, stepping out into the cool early evening air. The roar of gunfire and the low, guttural moans of the dead echoed across the open field ahead.
"Form up," Andrew ordered, scanning the open stretch leading toward the northern defenses. "We move fast."
The two Rangers nodded, taking positions at the front with him. Behind them, the National Guard soldiers adjusted their rifles, their faces set and determined despite the fear visible in their eyes.
The air near the northern fence was thick with the stench of decay and gunpowder. The rhythmic crack of gunfire mixed with panicked shouting as defenders tried to hold their line.
Andrew broke into a run, his boots pounding against the dirt, the two Rangers and their group close behind. Ahead, muzzle flashes were visible as the National Guard soldiers fired wildly into the advancing horde. The walkers pressed forward in a slow, relentless tide — dozens deep, their mangled forms illuminated by the sporadic flash of gunfire and floodlights.
Andrew could see it immediately — the defenders' hands were shaking, their shots scattering wide. Fear had taken hold, and the walkers' jerky movements made them even harder to hit. Every few rounds, a bullet found its mark, but for every one that fell, three more stumbled forward to take its place.
"Move!" Andrew barked, sprinting the last stretch. Gesturing at the two rangers, he said " We'll split off! Take half the force and reinforce the eastern side! Keep their flank covered!"
"Copy that!" one of the Rangers called back, motioning for the soldiers and officers to follow as they broke off to the east.
Andrew kept running.
Reaching the defensive line, he raised his MP5, firing in short, controlled bursts — each shot deliberate, each one finding its mark.
"Short bursts only — make every round count!" He shouted above the chaos.
With reinforcement arriving, the soldiers nearby straightened, drawing steadier breaths as they focused their fire. Slowly, the erratic gunfire began to find rhythm again, the line tightening under Andrew's direction.
But the walkers were pressing too hard. Bodies began to stack against the chain-link fence — not falling back, but building up. The weight of their mass pressed forward, the dead behind shoving the ones in front until the fence bowed inward under the sheer pressure.
"Hold that line!" Andrew yelled, even as he fired again, putting down a walker clawing its way up the tangled metal.
The fence groaned, the posts straining. A moment later, with a harsh metallic snap, the barrier gave way.
The front row of walkers tumbled forward in a tangled heap, collapsing onto the ground. The defenders seized the chance — every rifle opened up, pouring controlled fire into the mass before it could rise. Walkers thrashed in the dirt, torn apart before they could regain footing.
Andrew switched mags, slammed it home, and fired into the thickest cluster. To his left, a police officer braced his shotgun and fired point-blank into the tide of walkers, the blast echoing over the line.
"Keep them down! Don't let them breach the gap!" Andrew shouted, voice steady even as the chaos raged.
Above, the rooftop Rangers opened fire, their vantage point giving them a clear line of sight. Precision shots rang out — each one dropping a walker that got too close to the broken section.
Bit by bit, the tide slowed. The gunfire thinned as the defenders cleared the last of the walkers pressing through the breach. The fence now hung twisted and torn, but not a single walker managed to breach the defensive line.
Andrew lowered his weapon slightly, scanning the ground ahead. Dozens of corpses — mangled, piled, unmoving. The northern defense line was bloodied, exhausted… but still standing.
Over the radio, one of the Rangers reported in from the eastern side.
"Eastern line secure, sir. Fewer walkers on this side. Situation stable."
Andrew exhaled, wiping grime and sweat from his face with the back of his glove. "Good work," he said into his own radio. "Maintain overwatch and stay sharp. The fence was breached on our side, we'll have to repair it before nightfall."
The surviving defenders exchanged weary glances — no one spoke, but the relief was clear.
Andrew looked once more over the field of corpses, his jaw tightening.
"Let's not get comfortable," he said, addressing everyone nearby . "There could be more coming."
He then stepped forward, eyes scanning the breach — the twisted section of chain-link sagging under the weight of the dead. Beyond it, the horizon burned orange and gray. Night was coming.
He exhaled through his nose. "It's going to be dark soon," he said, turning to the soldiers beside him. "We can't leave this open — clear the bodies around the breach."
An idea forming, Andrew grabbed the radio from his vest and called the Rangers at the main entrance, informing them of the breach and ordering them to bring the JLTV to block it.
Under the glare of floodlights, soldiers and police officers moved quickly, dragging bodies aside to make room for the vehicle.
When the JLTV arrived, it rolled to a stop near the breach. The piled corpses made maneuvering difficult, the tires crunching over bone and debris as it angled into position.
Stepping carefully over the fallen walkers, Andrew approached the JLTV and retrieved the long-range radio. He switched channels and called Fort Ironwood.
After a moment, the line crackled and a voice came through — the operator putting Major Griggs on.
Once Griggs confirmed receiving the earlier report, Andrew spoke: "The noise from the civilians drew a large horde. The perimeter was breached, but we held the line. The situation's stable — for now. But we'll need to relocate personnel and civilians."
After a moment of silence Griggs' voice came back, calm but firm. "Understood. I'll prepare for relocation." Then Major Griggs paused, this time a voice could be heard in the background, but Andrew couldn't understand what was said.
And he didn't need to, because Griggs returned back on the line " Lieutenant , it seems Captain Price returned back from his assignment, we'll contact you once everything's set with the relocation."
"Copy that," Andrew replied, before ending the transmission.
He adjusted the sling on his rifle and looked toward the fading sky. The dead had been pushed back — but night was coming, and with it the risk of more walkers coming.