Cyrus stood atop the armored vehicle, his boots planted firmly on the reinforced roof as he looked around at the battlefield.
The area was a mess of destruction after ten intense days of operations, with zombie corpses strewn across the ground in every direction.
Smoke rose from spent shell casings, and the air still carried the sharp smell of gunpowder mixed with the rot of the infected. He took a moment to scan the perimeter, making sure no immediate threats were regrouping.
The convoy was mostly loaded and ready to pull back, but these final checks were important to avoid any surprises on the way to the next site. The soldiers below moved with practiced efficiency, securing the last crates and checking their weapons.
