"We don't have time for this shit. Robinson, deal with it," Sarge commanded.

Robinson strode forward fearlessly, grinning in anticipation as he swung Roomsweeper upward. His gun boomed out in anger and the zombie's head evaporated in a fountain of blood. At close range Roomsweeper was simply devastating.

"What?" He asked innocently, "I was firing away from the ammunition."

The man was dangerous, unstable, perhaps?

I looked over to Sarge, hoping he’d enforce some discipline, but he didn't comment on the man's rashfulnes. Instead, he simply strode over the zombie's corpse. "What are you waiting for, men, Christmas?"

Kuwta protested as she ran her hands down her chest, "If you hadn't noticed, I'm all woman." Regardless, she still hurried to follow him, the same as the rest of us.

We jumped down the stairs two at a time, the readout on the timer continued to tick down.

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

Halfway down we met a zombie with no legs dragging itself up the stairs.

It’s progress was slow as it clawed its way upward, and behind it a bloody track had been left where its entrails had dragged along the steps.

Sarge didn't bat an eyelid at the gruesome sight and barely slowed down. His boot connected firmly with its torso hurling it, hurling the zombie into the air. It bounced down the stairs ahead of us. The creature didn't give any indication of pain as its bones brutally crunched on each impact with the cold metal stairs.

You have to give Sarge credit; he leads by example.

When we descended the stairwell far enough to reach it again, Robinson fired Roomsweeper at point-blank range to finish off the undead. The weapons shell simply obliterated the creature leaving nothing but smoking entrails behind on the stairs.

"One down, quite a few to go." Kuwta quipped, looking down into the room below. There milling around were several dozen zombies. As I watched, one of them looked up at us. A tortured screech game out of its dead lungs as it saw prey to hunt and lurched suddenly towards the stairs.

A shiver ran down my spine as I watched the others follow the first zombies lead, and soon they were all shuffling in our direction. Scenes from dozens of zombie movies played out in my head. There were times when having a vivid imagination was a curse; this was one of them.

Four minutes and fifteen seconds.

"We ain't got time for this," Kuwta said and pulled a grenade from her belt. She nonchalantly activated the device. My old army trainer would have approved of her throwing style, she locked her elbow into place as her arm extended rigidly. The grenade flew a respectable distance, landing in the middle of a mass of zombies who simply ignored it.

Seconds later it exploded, hurling body parts around the room.

While impressive, the explosion only took out a small proportion of the zombies. The remaining zombies showed no fear at their brethren's demise and continued to press forward towards us.

Several had reached the stairs now, and Roomsweeper was booming with repetitive regularity as Robinson attempted to push them back so we could continue down the final flight of stairs.

Three minutes and fifty-five seconds.

"This isn't working!" Robinson shouted over the racket his gun was creating. Try as he might, every zombie he obliterated was quickly replaced by another. Worse still, the stairs were now slippery with their blood.

I had thought I'd become accustomed to violence and war, but this was different. Zombies had no right to exist in the real world. I didn't want to die this way. I knew if I closed my eyes, images of me falling into a mass of them to be devoured would appear. Perhaps this was what the pastor had meant when he said I'd go to hell if I didn't say my prayers?

"Peters, wipe that blank look off your face, boy!" Sarge's open palm snaked out and slapped me painfully, snapping me out of my thoughts and back to reality. "Robinson, stand your ground. The rest of you, I want thermite grenades raining down on a count of five."

I grabbed a grenade from my belt pouch and listened to Sarge's countdown. The booming of Robinson's gun punctuated each number as he continued to decimate the undead.

“5 … 4 … 3 .. 2 .. 1 ..”

We lobbed the grenades. Mine flew in an ungainly arc, landing in a milling mass of zombies to the left of the room.

Three minutes and thirty seconds.

Without a pause, I grabbed another grenade; this one flew end over end as far towards the far door as could be managed.

In that moment I regretted my aversion to sports more than ever before. My range was pathetic in comparison to the others.

As the second ones landed, the first grenades blew. Bursts of flame erupted throughout the room, engulfing the zombies. The undead burned like candles, and the flames leaped from one to the next as they hungrily looked for more fuel. Soon the entire room beneath us was ablaze.

Various species of undead staggered around burning. The smell was weirdly normal almost appetizing, and it disturbed me that the aroma of cooking meat made me feel hungry.

"Barbeque, anyone?" Robinson asked with a grin as he cleared the last of the Zombies from the stairs in front of him. Obviously, not everyone shared my concerns over our mental state.

Two minutes and fifty-five seconds.

Beneath us an inferno blazed. Zombies staggered around, allowing the hungry flames to spread amongst them.

A few staggered onto the steps, but these were easily dispatched by the grinning Robinson, who seemed to be enjoying the experience.

This all took time though and valuable seconds ticked by as we waited for the zombie candles to burn out. Time we didn't have to spare.

Two minutes and ten seconds.

"Time to haul ass." Sarge stated, "Move out."

Robinson leveled his gun and crunched forward and stomped without care over the remains of the zombies he had already dispatched.

At floor level, the smell from the burning bodies was stronger. The smoke from the now-smoldering corpses hovered thickly in the air, and all of us were coughing apart from Kuwta, who seemed unaffected.

The squad double-timed it forward, crunching towards the door.

Ahead of me, Robinson stumbled and suddenly fell. A burnt zombie crawled onto his struggling body before biting deeply into his thigh. A grunt of pain escaped Robinson, as he hammered the butt of Roomsweeper into the zombies skull. It remained locked onto his leg.

Sarge looked down at the timer and strode on past the downed man. Leaving him to fend for himself. As far as Sarge was concerned, Robinson would either make it or not. Sarge's commitment was to the squad and the mission, not to any single person.

One minute and forty seconds.

The others were good soldiers; they followed Sarge, not even sparing a glance towards Robinson.

Me, on the other hand, I'd never been a good soldier.

My foot lashed out, connecting heavily with the zombie. There was a horrible cracking sound as its neck snapped and it's head flew through the air. I might not have been a great quarterback, but apparently, I might have a career as a kicker one day.

"My leg's fucked," Robinson complained as he staggered to his feet. Pain contorted his face, and I could see that blood had seeped through his torn trousers. The skin around the deep wound was bubbling unnaturally now, and I was confident his regeneration would be able to repair the damage given time.

"You'll be alright .. presuming we aren't blown to pieces," I muttered, taking some of his weight as I half dragged the complaining man towards the door.

One minute and ten seconds.

A few zombies were still moving. They wore the same close fitting, grey uniforms that we did. If things had worked out differently, I could easily have been one of them.

Most of them ignored us as we moved towards the door. Our erratic gait must have made them think we were also undead.

There were only twenty yards to go when two of them decided we looked interesting and shambled in our direction.

Holding my rifle in one hand, I fired shots off erratically as we moved.

One of the undead dropped as a lucky bullet pierced its skull.

I fired a barrage of bullets towards the other. They passed through its body, but none dropped the unnatural creature. Its hands groped forward towards me.

Forty seconds.

I flinched as I felt its fingers touch my neck. Then it fell away to the floor, dead for a second and hopefully final time.

One of Kuwta’s throwing knives was embedded in the back of the zombies' head.

"Quickly, idiots!" She shouted from the doorway, encouraging us forward.

We'd only just made it through when the timer expired.

Zero seconds.

The ensuing blast threw us to the floor as the bunker shuddered and shook from the immense explosions which rippled through it. Huge chunks of the building's stonework rained down upon the beach, bouncing haphazardly as they landed.

Fortunately, none crushed us.

It was starting to look like we might live through this mission yet.