Blood and Iron

The ground beneath Étienne's feet trembled as the massive Tank undead lumbered forward, its decaying body defying the laws of nature. It was a grotesque mockery of strength, every step a thunderous reminder of their desperate plight. The thing was enormous, a towering mass of rotting flesh and tattered rags, its limbs swollen and grotesquely distorted from years of decay. Yet it moved with an unnerving purpose, its hollow eyes fixed on them with a hunger that was as mindless as it was relentless.

A Screamer's wail pierced the air, louder now, drawing the horde closer. The sound was maddening, sending waves of terror through Étienne's chest. They were trapped surrounded on all sides by death, both the living and the undead.

"Move!" Étienne barked, snapping his pistol to his side, his finger tightening around the trigger. He fired into the oncoming mass, the gunshot a sharp crack that split the air. The bullet struck the nearest Runner, sending it careening back, but it wasn't enough. The creature was up again in an instant, its face a twisted mask of rot and rage.

"Focus on the Tank!" Étienne shouted, his voice barely audible over the shrieking undead. He was already moving toward the clearing, using the trees for cover as the others scrambled behind him.

Jean-Luc had pulled a flare gun from his belt, his fingers working quickly to load it. "That's a hell of an idea, Captain!" he said, his tone laced with dark humor despite the situation. "Maybe it'll light up the night for us."

"No time for jokes, Renard!" Heinrich growled, his eyes locked on the Tank, adjusting his musket in his hands. He was the first to fire, sending a shot that struck the creature's chest. The impact barely seemed to slow it down, its decaying flesh absorbing the force like water to stone.

Étienne cursed under his breath. The Tank's hide was too thick. They needed something stronger, more focused. "Marie, get to cover!" he called. He knew she was already struggling, her hand clutching her side where she had twisted something while running, but she couldn't stop now. No one could afford to hesitate.

She didn't respond, but she nodded grimly, eyes narrowed in determination. It was that look that had kept her alive when others had faltered resolve, born of both faith and the harsh reality of their new world.

Étienne turned to Heinrich. "We need to slow it down, or we'll be swarmed by the rest of the horde. Can you get a shot through its skull?"

Heinrich didn't answer immediately, his eyes calculating the distance. Then, with a quiet grunt, he nodded, his voice steady. "I'll need a clear shot. Its head is too thick with muscle, too strong. But if we can distract it long enough…"

"Then we'll make it work." Étienne's voice was curt. They had no choice.

The forest around them crackled with tension as the undead drew closer. The runners, faster and more nimble, were almost upon them. Étienne's heart raced, each beat a reminder of the frailty of life. They had become creatures of desperation all of them, their very survival reliant on the thinnest of margins.

"Renard!" Étienne barked, snapping his head toward the smuggler. Jean-Luc had already started to creep forward, his silhouette blending with the shadows of the trees. "That flare. Light it. Now."

Jean-Luc raised an eyebrow. "You think that'll stop it?"

"It'll get its attention," Étienne said, his voice low and grim. "We need to hit it while its focus is elsewhere."

Jean-Luc's grin was as sharp as ever. "I'll make it burn, Captain."

The flare gun fired with a loud *whoosh*, sending a streak of bright orange light shooting into the sky. The Tank recoiled, its eyes shifting toward the bright signal in the distance. It bellowed in what might have once been a human roar, the sound guttural and unnerving. Its massive feet crashed into the ground with each step, but its attention was now diverted.

"Now, Heinrich!" Étienne shouted.

The Prussian soldier's musket went off with a thunderous boom, the ball striking the Tank's exposed skull. The impact staggered the creature, but it didn't fall. Instead, the undead stumbled and snarled, swinging its massive arms in a wild, uncoordinated frenzy. It was slow, but in its rage, it was a terrifying force.

"It didn't go down," Heinrich muttered, reloading with impressive speed. "It needs more force."

Étienne's mind raced. Their options were dwindling. "We need to get closer," he said, eyes scanning the trees around them. "The clearing is our only chance."

Jean-Luc, never one to waste a moment, grabbed a handful of rocks and hurled them toward the Tank's feet, distracting it further. The undead roared, its attention snapping back toward them. It took a step forward, crushing the rocks beneath its massive, bloated foot.

"That's not going to be enough," Marie said, emerging from her hiding spot. Her face was pale, but there was no time for rest. She held a small, alchemical vial in her hand a concoction of some kind, its contents shimmering with a faint, otherworldly glow.

"What is that?" Étienne asked, his voice tight.

"A last-ditch effort," she replied, her eyes focused, her hands steady despite the chaos. "It's a mix of sulfur and saltpeter creates a reaction that could force the undead to burst. But it's volatile. Use it at the right moment."

Étienne's gut churned. They were desperate. "When?"

"Now." Marie didn't hesitate, her voice firm with the kind of certainty only born of facing the abyss. She hurled the vial toward the Tank, watching as it flew through the air in a graceful arc, landing just below the creature's feet. The moment it shattered, the chemical reaction was immediate, a burst of smoke and fire that engulfed the Tank's legs.

The creature screamed or what passed for a scream as the flames spread rapidly across its decaying body. The air thickened with the stench of burning flesh and the acrid scent of chemicals. The fire flared, roaring with unnatural fury, sending shockwaves through the ground beneath their feet. The Tank reeled, thrashing wildly as it struggled against the flames.

"Now, Heinrich!" Étienne shouted, eyes wide with urgency.

Heinrich raised his musket, his hands steady as he aimed for the exposed skull. The fire from Marie's concoction had given them the opening they needed. With a final, almost surgical focus, he pulled the trigger. The ball sped through the air, striking the Tank's skull with a sickening crunch.

For a moment, the massive creature swayed, its limbs shaking violently. Then, with an earth-shattering crash, it collapsed to the ground in a heap of decaying meat and shattered bone, sending a cloud of dirt and ash into the air.

The moment was brief. The horde the endless tide of undead was still coming.

But for now, they had won a small victory.

"We're not out yet," Étienne muttered, his breath heavy and filled with a strange mix of relief and dread. "We need to get moving."

Marie stepped forward, her eyes sharp. "The clearing. It's open."

Jean-Luc grinned, the light of victory still burning in his eyes despite the chaos. "Then let's make it ours."

With that, they broke through the remaining brush, pushing forward into the clearing. The air felt heavier here, as though the earth itself were holding its breath. The trees were thick around them, but the field was wide and open, offering no true protection. The horde was coming, and soon they would be fighting for their lives.

But for a fleeting moment, the sky above them was clear a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

And that was enough to keep them moving.