The Last Marine
Chapter 36: Quinn’s Gambit

Chapter 36: Quinn’s Gambit

Huddled in the shadow of the sanitation truck, Quinn became a student of chaos. He did not see the horde as a single, terrifying entity anymore. He watched it as a soldier observes an enemy force, studying its movements, its patterns, its weaknesses. He saw how the mass of infected ebbed and flowed like a tide, drawn by distant sounds, their attention span short and singular. He noted the slight downward slope of the highway leading away from the bridge. He saw the way the wind was blowing, a gentle but steady breeze moving north, away from their intended path.

And he saw the fuel tanker. It was the centerpiece, the lynchpin of the desperate gambit forming in his mind.

"It’s a multi-stage plan," he said, his voice low and intense as he gathered Hex and Lena close. He used a shard of glass to scratch a crude map in the oily dirt. "It’s about misdirection and timing. We have one shot at this."

He pointed his makeshift stylus at the tanker. "Phase one: we create the fuel source. I need to get to that tanker, puncture the lowest point of the tank, and get the fuel flowing. It will pool on the road, then follow the slope of the highway downhill, away from the bridge."

"The sound of the puncture will draw them," Hex immediately pointed out. "You’ll be swarmed before you can get clear."

"Which leads to phase two," Quinn continued, his eyes glinting with a feral intensity. "The first diversion. While I’m moving to the tanker, you, Hex, will be on the other side of the highway. There’s a pile-up of cars over there. I need you to create a sustained, loud noise. A car alarm. A horn rigged to a battery. Something that will pull the attention of the infected nearest the tanker, giving me the seconds I need to make the puncture and get away."

"And while you two are playing with fire and noise, what about us?" Lena asked, her arms crossed, her expression a mixture of skepticism and concern. Lily and the other children were huddled behind her, along with Clara, the sole remaining clinic survivor.

"Phase three," Quinn said, his gaze softening as he looked at Lena. "You are the most important part. Once the fuel is flowing and I am clear, Hex triggers the main event. He ignites the fuel stream from a distance. The fire will create a massive wall of heat and sound, a primary lure that will draw the bulk of the horde from the bridge. That’s your window. You take the children, you take Clara, and you move. You don’t run, you move deliberately. Down the embankment, under the bridge, to the maintenance ladder. You don’t wait for us. You climb."

"And where will you and Hex be?" Lena demanded.

"We’ll be your rear guard," Quinn said. "We’ll use the fire and the confusion as cover, pick off any stragglers that aren’t drawn to the main event, and follow you to the ladder. We’ll be right behind you."

It was a plan built on a knife’s edge, with a dozen points of failure. Hex, the pragmatist, saw them immediately. "Igniting the fuel from a distance is tricky. A gunshot is too unreliable. I’ll need something better. A flare, maybe. Or a Molotov."

"The tanker is our bomb and our torch," Quinn said. "We just need the flint. We’ll find something."

Lena’s concern was more immediate, more personal. "Quinn, this is too dangerous. Lily... the children... they’ll be exposed. What if the fire spreads too fast? What if the wind changes?"

"It’s a risk," Quinn admitted, his voice hardening again. "But the alternative is to sit here and wait for them to find us. Or to try and cross that bridge and get torn apart. This is the only path I see. It’s a terrible path, but it’s the only one."

The debate was short. They all knew he was right. There were no good options left, only less certain forms of death. Their roles were assigned. Quinn would take the most dangerous part: puncturing the tanker. Hex would handle the diversions, the technical setup for the ignition. Lena would be the guardian, the shepherd of their small, precious flock, responsible for getting the children through the window of opportunity they created.

The next hour was a tense, whispered flurry of activity. Hex, a master of salvage, managed to hotwire the battery from a small sedan and connect it to the car’s horn, creating a crude but brutally effective noisemaker he could trigger from a distance. He also found a road flare in the trunk of a derelict police cruiser, the perfect tool for igniting the fuel.

Quinn, meanwhile, prepared his own tools. He needed something to puncture the tanker’s thick aluminum skin. He found it in the back of a utility truck: a heavy-duty drill with a steel bit, its battery pack miraculously still holding a partial charge.

As the sun began to dip towards the horizon, casting long, ominous shadows across the highway of the dead, everything was in place. They gathered for one last moment in the relative safety of their hiding spot. The air was thick with unspoken fears.

Quinn knelt down in front of Lily. He took her small hands in his. "I need you to be very brave for me, Lily-bug," he said softly. "You’re going to hear a lot of loud noises. But you have to stay with Lena, no matter what. Can you do that for me?"

She looked at him, her eyes wide and trusting, and nodded. "Are you going to be with the fire?" she asked, her voice a small whisper.

"I’ll be okay," he said, forcing a smile. He squeezed her hands. "I’ll always come back for you. I promise." He looked up at Lena, his gaze conveying everything he could not say. Protect her.

Lena nodded, understanding the silent plea.

Quinn stood up and looked at Hex. They were two soldiers from different worlds, a Marine and an Air Force tech, but in this moment, they were brothers, bound by a shared, insane purpose. They clasped hands, a firm, solid grip. No words were necessary.

Quinn took a deep breath, the foul air of the dead city filling his lungs. He gave a sharp, single nod.

"Let’s do this."

Hex slipped away into the shadows, moving towards his position across the highway. Quinn waited, his heart a steady, cold drum in his chest. A moment later, his walkie-talkie crackled to life.

"Noisemaker is set," Hex’s voice whispered. "Ready for phase one."

Quinn looked at the tanker, a slumbering metal beast in the twilight. He looked back at Lena and Lily one last time, burning their images into his mind. Then, he gripped the drill, took a deep breath, and stepped out from behind the cover of the truck.

The gambit had begun.