HIS WAR WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OVER.
When an accident leaves his older brother in a coma,
Marine Gunnery Sergeant Nathan Grimes
is just weeks from retirement,
ready to hang up the uniform for good.
Then the orders are given.
He's been stop-lossed.
N...
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𝖲𝖢𝖤𝖭𝖤 6.1
Nate skidded back into position as the first infected slammed into the makeshift barricade.
Wood cracked. Plastic bins exploded. Something—someone—shrieked with a throat that had no air left.
"Hold the line!" He yelled, unloading his rifle down the ramp.
Muzzle flashes stuttered like lightning in the dark garage as Thomas shouted, "They're swarming the left!"
Nate pivoted, clipped one in the throat, then the forehead. Blood mist sprayed the pillar beside him.
From the corner, Bryson called out over the chaos, "They're coming in louder the more we shoot—sound's pulling them from the street!"
"No shit!" Danny shoved another mag into his rifle. "We're ringing the goddamn dinner bell."
Nate gritted his teeth. "We don't have a choice. If we stop firing, we're dead."
"Ammo's almost dry!" DeLuca shouted from behind a truck hood. "Two mags left, that's it!"
Then—Lentz.
He was mid-reload when one of them burst from the side and slammed him into a pillar. The two went down in a tangle of limbs and snarls.
"Lentz!" Gearhart's voice cracked as he spun toward them—but Danny was already moving.
With a shout, Danny barreled into the infected, knocking it off Lentz and slamming it to the pavement. The thing twisted under him, teeth snapping inches from his throat. Danny didn't hesitate—he jammed his sidearm to its temple and pulled the trigger.
The shot echoed. The body went still.
Danny rolled off, gasping, blood splattered across his arms.
"You good?" Nate asked, holding out his hand.
"Yeah." Danny nodded, chest heaving as he rose to his feet with help. Then turned to Lentz. He grabbed his arm, eyes wide. "You bit?"
"No," Lentz wheezed. "I... I don't think so. But it got me." He held up his forearm—three deep scratches, ragged and bleeding.
Everyone saw it.
A cold silence punched through the gunfire outside.
"Shit," DeLuca muttered.
"It's not a bite though!" Thomas eyed the fresh markings, a hint of hopefulness mixed with desperation in his voice. "It doesn't count...right?!"
Time froze for half a beat as Nate's stomach turned to ice. "Fall back!" he barked. "Now! Get everyone upstairs! Move—quiet if you can!"
They didn't wait to argue. Gearhart fired a final burst down the ramp before grabbing two civilians and dragging them toward the stairwell.
"Let's go!" DeLuca shouted, waving the civilians over. He and Thomas quickly directed them, filing them in a couple at a time as the other guys provided cover fire.
