"It’s working, and I want you to keep pounding on it until that lane collapses," Adrian finished, his voice firm.

"Do not let it reconnect."

"Copy, Command," the pilot replied. "We’re staying on the choke."

Inside Spectre One, the crew locked in again.

No hesitation now.

They saw it.

It was working.

"Fire control, same target," the pilot said.

"Copy. All guns, stay on choke point."

"25 ready."

"40 ready."

"105 cycling."

The aircraft tightened its orbit just a bit more, keeping the intersection pinned under its gun line.

"Platform stable," the co-pilot said.

"Send it."

"25, fire."

The rotary cannon roared again, louder this time, sustained longer. The stream of rounds cut directly across the broken lane, not sweeping wide anymore. It was focused.

Concentrated.

Every burst hit where the zombies were trying to regroup.

"Keep it centered," fire control said. "Don’t let them stack."

"Copy."

The gunner held the line steady, walking the fire back and forth within the choke, shredding anything that tried to fill the gap.

"40, fire."

Boom.

Boom.

The Bofors joined in, landing heavier hits deeper into the packed rear line. Each shell broke apart the ones pushing forward, throwing bodies sideways and widening the separation.

"They’re splitting," the sensor operator said, leaning forward. "Front group is losing reinforcement."

"Good," the pilot replied. "Keep pressure."

"105 ready."

"Fire."

The howitzer thundered again.

The round landed slightly behind the choke this time, right where the rear mass was compressing. The explosion tore a deep hole into the advancing wave, disrupting the flow even further.

"Direct hit," the sensor operator said. "Rear is bunching up. They’re not flowing clean anymore."

Back in the command center, the map began to change.

The thick river of red markers started to distort.

The front cluster near Forbes Park stayed dense.

But the rear slowed, then separated.

"Sir... it’s happening," one of the analysts said. "You’re cutting them off completely."

Adrian didn’t take his eyes off the screen.

"Keep them there," he said into the mic. "Do not let the rear reconnect with the front. Kill everything trying to cross that gap."

"Copy, Command," the pilot answered.

"Adjust orbit slightly left," fire control said. "I want a cleaner angle on the rear buildup."

"Adjusting," the pilot replied.

The aircraft shifted just enough.

"Target realigned."

"25, suppress the middle."

"Firing."

The rotary cannon hammered the center of the choke again, preventing any movement through the gap.

"40, hit the left edge."

Boom.

The shell landed and cleared another cluster trying to flank around debris.

"Right edge, now."

Boom.

Another impact.

"They’re trying to go around," the sensor operator said.

"Not anymore," fire control replied.

"105 ready."

"Fire."

Another shell dropped into the rear mass.

The blast forced the horde to scatter slightly, not from fear, but from the physical disruption of the explosion. Bodies were thrown apart, breaking the density they needed to push forward.

On the screen, it looked like the swarm had been cut clean.

Front half.

Rear half.

Separated.

"Holy shit..." one of the crew muttered.

"No chatter," the pilot said. "Stay on it."

Below them, the eastern wall of Forbes Park finally got a break.

The pressure eased.

Zombies still flooded inside, but the endless stream from outside had slowed to a crawl.

Inside the compound, defenders noticed it.

"They’re thinning out!" someone shouted.

"Keep firing! Don’t let them regroup!"

Back in the command center, Adrian leaned slightly forward.

Now it was different.

Before, they were reacting.

Now, they were controlling it.

"Spectre One," Adrian said.

"Go ahead."

"Good work," he said. "Now collapse the front."

A pause.

Then the pilot answered.

"Copy that, Command."

"Shift fire to front cluster," fire control ordered. "Everything we’ve got."

"25 ready."

"40 ready."

"105 cycling."

"On my mark..."

The aircraft held its orbit.

The guns lined up.

"Mark."

"25, fire."

The rotary cannon spun up again, louder than before, the barrel blur steady as the stream of rounds tore straight into the front cluster inside Forbes Park.

No more holding back.

No more spacing.

Just suppression.

"Keep it tight," fire control said. "Don’t overshoot into friendly clusters."

"Copy."

The gunner dragged the stream across the street, cutting down infected that had already breached the inner roads. Zombies dropped in rows, but the ones behind them kept pushing forward, climbing over bodies without slowing.

"40, follow."

Boom.

Boom.

The Bofors shells landed deeper into the compound this time, targeting the densest pockets where the defenders were getting overwhelmed. Each blast broke apart clusters that had formed near intersections and open spaces.

"Impact good."

"Shift left, ten meters."

"Shifted."

Boom.

Another shell landed, clearing a group that had cornered several defenders near a barricade.

"They’re collapsing inwards," the sensor operator said. "Front cluster is compressing."

"Good," the pilot replied. "Keep squeezing."

"105 ready."

"Stand by... stand by..."

The aircraft held steady, orbit tight, no drift.

"Fire."

The howitzer roared.

The shell dropped directly into the largest concentration inside the compound, right where the infected had gathered after breaching. The explosion lit up the thermal feed, wiping out a massive chunk in one strike.

"Direct hit," the sensor operator said. "That opened space inside the compound."

"Again."

"105 ready."

"Fire."

Another round followed, slightly offset, hitting a secondary cluster forming near a residential block.

Back in the command center, the map shifted again.

The front mass was shrinking.

"Sir, they’re losing density," one of the operators said. "The defenders are pushing back."

Adrian didn’t speak.

He just watched.

"25, keep pressure on runners," fire control ordered.

"Firing."

The rotary cannon tracked moving targets now, cutting down infected that broke away from the main cluster and tried to scatter into side streets.

"40, clean up left flank."

Boom.

Boom.

Each shell landed with precision, breaking apart smaller groups before they could reform.

"They’re disorganized now," the sensor operator said. "Movement is breaking."

"Good," the pilot replied. "That’s what we want."

Then, a pause.

"Fire control, ammo check."

The fire control officer glanced at his panel.

"...25 is running low."

"How low?"

"Less than a minute of sustained."

The pilot nodded slightly.

"40?"

"Down to final racks."

A second passed.

"105?"

"Two rounds left."

Silence filled the aircraft for a brief moment.

Then the pilot keyed his mic.

"Command, Spectre One."

"Go ahead."

"We are approaching Winchester," the pilot said. "All systems. Recommend final engagement cycle before RTB."

Adrian didn’t hesitate.

"Make it count," he said. "Clear as much as you can before pulling out."

"Copy." 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

Inside the gunship.

"Alright," the pilot said. "This is it. Final pass."

"Copy," the crew responded.

"105, last two rounds. Target center mass inside compound."

"Ready."

"Fire."

The second to last shell dropped, hitting the core of the remaining cluster.

Explosion.

The mass broke apart further.

"Final round."

"Fire."

The last 105mm shell followed, landing deeper into a regrouping section, erasing it completely.

"105 Winchester."

"Copy."

"40, expend remaining."

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The last shells were fired in quick succession, clearing what remained of the dense pockets.

"40 Winchester."

"25, finish it."

The rotary cannon roared one last time, sweeping across the scattered infected, cutting down anything still moving in groups.

Then—

"25 dry."

The gun fell silent.

For the first time since arriving, no more gunfire from the sky.

Inside the aircraft, the pilot exhaled once.

"Command, Spectre One. Winchester. All munitions expended."