Outbreak mini story

   Daybreak. It didn't exist anymore. Not to Brent. It wouldn't exist for him, or any of the men at his side and back. His eyes stared out to the countryside hills laid out in front of him. There was a line of trees about a half mile out, and inside the trees were a terror worse than any nightmare. All Brent had in his hands was a spear. And a simple metal spear wasn't going to save him. Blood already mixed with the sweat on his face, and his face paint from the day before was starting to run. His helmet kept his short hair soaked in sweat, but he figured it would help. Originally his football helmet from another time; it was painted black with a crude image of a Carnivore drawn in red. There was a number etched into the paint; 89A, so the survivors-if any-could identify him when the blood bath was over.
   The sun was setting. Shadows began to elongate, but the golden light shone into his eyes. It was difficult to see, and his eyes watered. He set his spear in the dirt under his feet and used an unclean finger to clear his eyes.  He gazed out down the line of soldiers and saw a man coming over on a horse. He was handing out water bottles to the other soldiers. Brent didn't want to take any water; since he would likely die anyways. He was in the front of the line anyways. A few men accepted the water bottles and passed them around, but most rejected the offer. They felt the same as Brett; it would be a waste.
   Their strategy was simple. In the face of a massive army of the undead, the human population dug out a massive pit and filled it with water. The result was a zombie mudbath. There was a wall of crushed cars and shipping container behind Brent, and seven rows of men between him and the Wall. It was a crude wall, but it went for miles and formed a U shape. The zombie mindlessly shambled right into the choke point with little knowledge of what lay in front of them. There were archers on the top of the 20 foot wall, but they would do little. Normal zombies required headshots to die, and the more advanced ones needed fire to be killed.
   The more advanced ones were called Carnivores. They were horrifying creatures. They were essentially bones wrapped in blood. A scientist had explained to the army that Carnivores were made by a new string of the virus that superheated the bloodstream-melting all other organs including the eyes and the brain. The result was the existing blood veins tightened to the skeletal system and acting like a self sufficient organ. Since Carnivores had no vocal box, they clicked their jaw bones to announce their presence. Fire was the only way to kill them.
There it was. The flare that signaled the start of the battle. The red glow rocketed up into the sky, followed by a blue one. The flare signaled that the dead had muscled their way through the muck, and broken through. It would be a few minutes before the first corpses broken through the tree line. The scouts on horseback were already coming through. They were waving a red flag. It was just a bandanna tied to a bayonet, but it was a bad signal. The men on horseback at the front of the line turned and looked up. They received no answer or acknowledgement.
Brent stood straight. Just because there were going to be more Carnivores than previously thought meant nothing to him or the men beside him. Those fighting couldn't do much except fight and hope they survived.