The sound of unrelenting gunfire clattered through the night. Like a bullet train rattling across a wooden track, or a thousand horses galloping across tarmac; like one of Max's eardrums had declared war on the other, carving through his head with a Gatling gun on either side.

He could feel the vibration in his gritted teeth and the shaking ground beneath his feet. He could feel the cold metal rubbing against his clammy hands as the gun recoiled with each and every bullet. He could feel the empty bullet cases pattering against his boots like blood rain after a horrific battle. He could feel the presence of every living person around him, their concentration, their strength, their fear. He could feel them putting their faith and their future into every bullet. And he could feel those bullets tearing through the night's tension... like metal through rotten flesh.

The hardest part was watching hundreds on undead faces burst into fleshy pulp before his eyes. No matter how long it had been, it was always impossible for Max to detach himself from those faces, the sights those eyes had seen, the memories within those brains. They were all still embedded deep within, somewhere, they had to be. From a distance, that became even harder to ignore. Max felt like the leader of a firing squad, tearing led into unarmed innocents who had never willingly chosen to be there.

But that was a guilt to plague himself with another day. He knew the feeling of letting these people and their families down would be a far heavier burden to carry if he were to fail.

However, for the very first time, Max began to truly believe. He couldn't allow himself to get carried away, but the undead army was making minimal ground, and the bodies were tumbling in their tens by the second. As long as the ammunition held out, they might actually have a chance of making it through the night. Hell, if the ammo held out, they could make it through without any casualties.

As if reading his mind, Val suddenly appeared on Max's shoulder, resting her own rifle against the top of the wall next to him.

"It's the same on every side!" she screamed above the rattling fire. "We're holding them back! We're bloody doing it!"

Max fought the urge to scold her for such a comment, but he couldn't help but agree, if not verbally.

"Not yet we haven't," was all he was willing to give.

He pulled his own gun back from its resting position and held it between his thighs as he fumbled through his pocket for an extra ammo clip. Putting his hand on Val's shoulder, he looked her square in the eyes to reinforce the seriousness of his point.

"This shit is far from over. I want you to go up to the balcony team and make sure they are ready with the grenades on my mark. And double check everyone in charge of fuel supply knows what they are doing, okay?"

Val nodded, her eyes oozing embarrassment. She wasn't one for losing her cool under pressure, but she knew she had gotten carried away. This wasn't a time for anyone to relax or let up on the enemy.

"Thank y-"

Val's mouth had vanished before her lips had even formed the 'O', as the entire right side of her head imploded into nothingness. Blood, skin, and bone peppered Max's face like human shrapnel, Val's every existence demoted to a mere stain on his face.

Max stood frozen, his eyes wide and his mouth open, blood dripping onto his lips. He heard distant screams above him from the balcony, then to his side; he felt the person behind him fall away from the wall. Before he knew it, Max was tumbling after them, one of Lizzie's arms wrapped around his waist and the other yanking his head from view.

His body slammed against the ground, sucking the wind from his lungs, as the commotion roared around him like a blurred hurricane. People were retreating from the wall, bodies were falling lifeless to the ground, guns were dropping to the tarmac as if plagued by disease.

"Max! MAX!" Lizzie screamed, slapping her hand across his cheek. "Max, I need you with me!"

Those few words brought him around from whatever shock-driven haze we was in. He took a few deep breaths to clear his vision before clambering back to his feet, stumbling up against the wall. As he looked around, their numbers were already severely depleted, with many dead on the ground, and tens of others fleeing towards the main doors.

"Wha- What..." he stammered.

Lizzie gritted her teeth, "I don't know. One second everything was going to plan, the next thing we were under fire. I couldn't even hear where the shots were coming from over everything."

Max clambered back up towards his previous shooting position, Val's blood still dripping into every vein of the wooden walkway. He crouched down low and peeked through one of the gun rest holes, desperately searching for any source of gunfire.

The clickers had advanced severely in the midst of all the turmoil, and were now bearing down on the Novus gates. It would only be another minute or so before they reached the wall and all hell broke loose.

Suddenly, the floodlights above Max's head swung away from the incoming horde, instead settling on the buildings to the left of the North road.

"What are they pointing at? Can you see?" Max cried, his eyes training past the endless bodies and pouring smoke.

Lizzie hopped up onto the walkway next to him and rested her sniper on the wall, peering through the scope to get a better look. Within a second, a bullet pinged off the top of the wall next to her head and Max yanked her back down into safety.

But the shock in her eyes wasn't a symptom of her near-death experience, the dread came from what she had seen.

"At least a dozen guys. Some in camouflage," she gulped. "It's the Brotherhood, they've found us..."