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beside the others, “they’ll see us soon enough when they come crashing up our arses from the street behind us. We need to move, mate.”
    “Okay,” Marty relented as he realised that Danny was right.
    He could hear the approaching infected for himself and it was clear that eventually they would stumble upon them, en-masse. He thought for a moment as he watched the street ahead of them and began to form a plan in his head.
    They could not turn back. There were far too many of them converging on the buildings there and if they attempted to hide in one of the houses, there was a good chance that they would eventually be discovered with nowhere left to run. Staying in the open was their best option at that moment. They had the darkness, along with their speed and agility to carry them through.
    “Pass me your White-Phos, Bull,” Marty demanded.
    Bull nodded and reached into one of the pouches on his assault vest and pulled out an L-84 White-Phosphorous grenade. It was roughly the size of a fizzy drinks can and light grey in colour with the letters WP stencilled across it in yellow. While it was commonly referred to as a ‘Willie-Pete’ by the American army, British soldiers had a more sinister nickname for it; a ‘Warm-Person’ grenade.
    On detonation, the grenade emitted a bright flash and as the phosphorous made contact with the air, it would ignite instantly and produce a voluminous cloud of white smoke. They were often used as defensive weapons, creating a smoke screen for troops to withdraw behind but they could also be used offensively too. As a trench or bunker clearing weapon there were very few devices that could accomplish the task as well as a White-Phosphorous grenade. The chemical burned at such a high temperature that it was capable of searing its way through most materials, including flesh and bone, and there was nothing that could extinguish it apart from the total removal of its fuel source, oxygen.
    Marty raised himself into a semi-crouch and kept his body pressed up against the wall. Inching his way forwards he peered out into the street and looked along the length of the road in both directions. Fifty metres to their left was a junction that joined onto the street behind them. It was packed with the bodies of the dead as they streamed in from all directions and made their way towards the commotion on the outer rim of the estate.
    In the street behind them it sounded as though a riot was in progress. Screams and wails mixed with the sounds of hands beating down doors and smashing their way through the building interiors.
    To the right, there was still a large number of the infected making their way along the road between the rows of houses but when compared to the junction on their left, that direction was the only real choice for Marty and the others.
    Marty watched for a moment and made a mental note of their numbers. There were hundreds of the staggering corpses in the street but they were spread out enough for the living men to be able to sprint through, and providing that there were not too many of them further along the road where Marty could not see, they had a chance to get away.
    “Okay,” Marty said as he crouched back down and informed the other two of his plan while holding the grenade up for them to see. “Once this fucker goes off, we make a run for it. Turn right onto the street and keep going until we’re clear.”
    “That’s your plan? Throw a grenade and then make like Swastikas down the fucking street?” Bull asked sceptically.
    Marty blinked and then nodded. At that moment, with nothing else in the way of a real alternative, it was the best he could come up with.
    “Well it’s better than sitting here with our dicks in our hands,” Danny countered as he watched the advancing mass of shadows that were slowly approaching them from the rear. “Let’s just get on with it.”
    “We wouldn’t be in this mess if Danny hadn’t wanted to take a trip down Memory Lane,” Bull