Jaxon pulled out another smoke grenade and hurled it behind them. Thick smoke bloomed between the trees, swallowing the path they came from.
Elena panted as she ran. "Just how many of those do you have?"
"Not many," Jaxon answered. "I'm almost out."
His mind raced as fast as his legs, thinking a way out for their predicament. 'Climb the trees? They'll reach us. Smoke? It won't last. Hide? There's nowhere to hide.'
The thought he'd been avoiding crept back in.
'We might have to stand our ground and fight.' His grip tightened on his rifle. 'It could work against the bald infected. But if the mutated ones showed up again…'
His thoughts shattered as the infected caught up again. Dozens of them burst through the trees, snarling and sprinting.
Jaxon clenched his jaw and spun around, raising his rifle. He began firing, each shot buying them seconds, nothing more.
