Chapter 262: Defense - IV
At the main MDC barricade, the soldiers had been firing continuously since the horde reached the outer streets.
Bodies already covered most of the road ahead. Some infected stumbled over them while others simply climbed across the pile and continued toward the barricades.
A machine gunner pulled the empty belt away and reached for another box.
"How much left?"
"Two boxes!"
"That’s it?"
"Yeah, unless someone decided to hide another fucking truck full of ammo somewhere!"
The soldier beside him gave a tired laugh before raising his rifle again.
"You wish."
Another burst left the machine gun. Then another series of explosions rolled across the south.
Both men stopped for only a moment.
The infected pressure in front of them had thinned enough that sections of pavement were finally visible between the corpses.
One of the soldiers stared toward the smoke rising above the buildings.
"What the hell did Command just use?"
The machine gunner looked south.
"I don’t think that’s ours. Command’s too damn conservative with ammo. You think they’d throw that much away at once?"
"I wouldn’t complain if they did."
The soldier fired another shot.
"It’s about time somebody rocked these fuckers to death."
Their squad leader fired a short burst from farther along the barricade and dropped another infected.
"You two pigs! Quit screwing around and keep firing!"
"Yes, Sergeant!"
The machine gunner ducked behind cover again.
"Still sounds better than two boxes."
"Shut up and feed the gun."
The next burst started as soon as the belt was fed.
...
Inside one of the apartment buildings still waiting for evacuation, several civilians remained crowded along the hallway away from the windows.
Every explosion farther south shook dust from the ceiling.
An older woman held onto the stair railing with both hands.
"Oh dear. Are they bombing us?"
"No, Grandma."
A younger man near the doorway leaned toward one of the covered windows and looked outside.
"It’s farther south."
"How does it look out there?"
Another explosion followed. The man watched smoke rise between the buildings.
For the first time since the fighting started, there were fewer infected crossing the road below.
"They’re hitting them."
"What?"
"The infected! They’re hitting the infected!"
He turned away from the window.
"Grandma, I think we’re actually getting out of here alive!"
Several people nearby looked toward him. A woman holding a small bag tightened her grip around it.
"You sure?"
"I don’t know, but look outside. There’s less of them now."
The sound of an engine grew louder from the street. A Guardian APC appeared at the far end and moved toward the building.
Someone inside the hallway started crying. It was barely loud enough that the others could hear it.
A few seconds later, several heavy knocks struck the front door.
"All civilians inside! This is the Golden Eagle Army! Mountain Defense Command sent us!"
Another knock followed.
"We’re evacuating this building! Please cooperate and prepare to move!"
Everyone exchanged glances.
The younger man near the door was already moving.
"That’s our chance. Come on!"
The older woman looked confused.
"Golden what?"
"Let’s ask questions later, Grandma."
"You don’t even know who they are, my dear."
"It’s better than staying here! Come on, let’s go!"
He reached for the front door.
...
Near the MDC compound entrance, Hawkes stopped beside the vehicle that was supposed to take the southern delegation back toward the installation.
The first rocket crossed above the buildings before he could open the door.
He watched it disappear deeper into Silverpeak. Then a second followed, and soon, a third.
Anna stood beside him, her eyes tracking the trails through the sky. Several more launches followed farther in the distance.
Hawkes slowly lowered his hand from the vehicle door.
"They brought rocket artillery too?"
Anna did not answer.
The first impacts rolled across the southern sectors.
Hawkes listened to them one after another. The explosions were far too powerful and far too many.
"None of this looks right."
Anna finally answered. "Nothing about that army was ever right, Captain."
Hawkes gestured toward the distant fighting without looking away.
"The APCs. Those tanks. Their infantry. Now this."
Another salvo landed farther south.
"Major Asters has spent months trying to keep our own forces supplied. But this army is spending ammunition like this?"
Anna said nothing.
Hawkes knew what keeping an army supplied looked like.
Their own stockpiles had been shrinking for months. Rockets that were fired could not simply be replaced, and several weapon systems were already being kept in reserve because there was little point using them without knowing when more ammunition would come.
Yet the Golden Eagle Army had arrived from Grefort with armored vehicles Hawkes had never seen before, working aircraft, modern infantry equipment and enough rocket artillery to fire into Silverpeak as though ammunition and fuel shortages were somebody else’s problem.
Hawkes glanced at Anna.
"No surviving Ashington unit should have reserves like this. I don’t believe they can sustain all of it."
"Perhaps they recovered more than we know."
"From where?"
Anna did not reply.
"Grefort is large, but that doesn’t mean they can replace everything they’re spending. Even if they found intact depots, they should be running out just like everyone else."
Hawkes faced the city again.
"And if they’re producing all of this themselves..."
The possibility bothered him enough that he stopped there and opened the vehicle door.
"I don’t know what to think anymore. But whoever they are, Major Asters needs to know exactly what we saw here."
"Then we should leave before the roads are closed," Anna said.
Hawkes climbed inside. He looked toward the smoke one last time before shutting the door.
"Assuming the infected don’t close the roads first."
...
Farther inside Silverpeak, the bombardment continued.
The MDC scouts thought the infected were scattering from the explosions. Groups broke away from the larger roads and moved through side streets. Others disappeared between buildings or retreated deeper toward the central sectors.
Then the reports started arriving from farther positions.
"Fourth Recon to Command. Southern movement is slowing."
Another transmission followed.
"Third Recon, some infected are retreating."
"Fifth Recon. Same here. Main concentration is breaking apart."
Federick took the radio.
"Breaking apart how?"
"It’s not random, sir."
A pause followed.
"They’re pulling back. On their own terms."
Federick’s expression hardened.
"Damn it."
"Is there a problem, Major?" Brandon turned toward him.
"The infected are doing it again. They’re retreating before we can hurt them any further."
Brandon looked toward him.
"That’s how it keeps bleeding us," Federick said. "It attacks until we spend too much, then pulls back and waits."
Federick gritted his teeth. He had seen this before.
Whenever the MDC committed enough force to make an attack too expensive, the infected eventually stopped coming—not because the Hive was defeated, but because it could wait.
Unfortunately, the MDC could not.
Every bullet they fired disappeared from a stockpile that was already shrinking. Every damaged vehicle remained in a workshop until somebody found the right part, and every dead soldier was one less person available for the next defensive line.
The Hive only needed to survive long enough for the difference to matter.
That was how it kept winning.
"Commander Brandon, stop the artillery and save the rest of your ammunition. The Hive is playing its game again."
Brandon did not answer immediately.
Federick looked south again.
Another artillery salvo crossed the sky. The infected continued withdrawing before it reached them.
Brandon watched the retreating concentrations through the Radar.
The larger groups that had been feeding the attack were already breaking apart and moving back toward the central sectors.
He could keep firing, but that wasn’t the point.
The evacuation routes were open, the pressure against the MDC line had dropped, and most of the targets worth saturating were already withdrawing into the denser parts of Silverpeak.
The Hive could retreat for now. Brandon could deal with it later.
He touched his communicator.
"Southern Command to Fires, do you copy?"
"Fires receiving. Still plenty of targets down there, Command."
"Negative. End the fire mission. Hold your current positions. The main concentrations are retreating."
"Roger. Fire mission ending. Holding in place."
Brandon switched channels again.
"Spear One, finish the current evacuation runs. Once the last civilians are across, start pulling your vehicles back toward the outer approach. Armor stays forward until the APCs are clear."
"Spear One Actual copies."
Another voice followed a moment later.
"Big Rhino copies. We’ll cover the road."
Brandon looked over the Radar one more time. Fires would remain outside the occupied sectors while the forward ground elements finished the job already in front of them.