Zombie Train

Two weeks after the mutation, at the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, France.

"Boom, boom, boom."

Three 2R2M 120 - millimeter mortars fired in sequence. The shells traced a perfect arc through the air and landed precisely in the vanguard of the onrushing zombie horde.

Calculating the movement trajectory of the zombie horde wasn't difficult. Since they had almost completely lost their pain response and didn't tire, they were essentially charging forward at full speed all the time. Moreover, due to the obstruction of various buildings and debris in the city, the path of the zombie horde rushing towards the Arc de Triomphe position was fixed.

For the French troops holding the Arc de Triomphe position now, the biggest problem was the insufficient supply of artillery shells. Besides, the previous wave of the zombie horde had breached the defense line, causing certain casualties among the defenders.

Several soldiers dragged an unconscious wounded comrade from the front line. Half of his leg had been bitten by a mutant, with white bone visible through the remaining flesh and blood.

Albert, leading several soldiers, rushed out of the entrance of the underground cave and ran towards the forefront of the defense line.

This round of the zombie horde's attack had ended. Since the mutants were attracted from different parts outside the city, the time they arrived at the Arc de Triomphe position varied. The last defenders got a temporary respite. They were collecting the remaining supplies and rescuing the wounded.

A lieutenant ran towards Albert, his face, covered in dirt and blood, showing extreme fatigue.

"Sir," the lieutenant reported to Albert.

"Count the number of people and prepare for evacuation," Albert said.

A hint of relief finally appeared on the lieutenant's face, but he immediately regained his vigilant stance—after all, the battle wasn't over yet.

"The helicopters will be here soon," Albert looked towards the horizon. Some fires ignited by incendiary bombs were still spreading outside the city, turning the pitch - black night sky into a fiery red. "They'll bring some supplies. All the operational helicopters will come to assist with the evacuation."

The lieutenant walked with Albert towards the edge of the defense line. "How many people can they take away?"

"Sikorsky CH - 53E Super Stallion, Puma Infantry Fighting Vehicle... The entire fleet can probably take away about five hundred people."

"Two Super Stallions can carry a hundred people," the lieutenant said. "What about the rest?"

"The convoy will come back," Albert said. "Except that some people might have to sit on the rooftops of the vehicles."

The lieutenant was taken aback and replied helplessly, "Just having a ride is good enough. I thought the convoy had already withdrawn to the south."

"They volunteered to come back," Albert said in an unreadable tone. It sounded like he didn't want the convoy to return. He would rather die in battle here than let his comrades come in and risk their lives.

"The biggest problem is that we still need to reserve ammunition to cover the convoy. It'll be very difficult for the convoy to enter the city without the cover of those 155 - mm guns."

As Albert spoke, he looked towards the dozen or so 155 - mm guns that had fallen silent. There had originally been a full 40 155 - mm guns on the front line of the Arc de Triomphe position. But even with rotation in firing, the continuous high - intensity combat had rendered most of the guns inoperable.

The sound of helicopters came from the distant sky. The group of people looked in the direction of the sound and saw a fleet of helicopters, illuminated by the firelight, flying towards them with supplies.

"Clear the landing area!" The lieutenant immediately sprang into action, shouting, "Hurry up! Send the seriously wounded up first!"

Albert checked the time. It was already the early hours of the morning, and the roars of the new wave of the zombie horde could be heard from afar. The helicopter fleet and the zombie horde were approaching the Arc de Triomphe from two different directions, one bringing hope and the other bringing death. The battle would continue.

A few hours later, the sun rose from the east, shining on the streets littered with corpses and blood. The mutants surged past the remnants of humanity's resistance, frantically charging towards the last few fallen soldiers. They fought and bit each other over the soldiers' bodies until one mutant managed to lunge forward and take a bite. There was no living person left in the entire Paris.