Multiple Settings Nᴇᴄʀᴏsɪs : Sᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ Fᴇᴀʀ

[Red2674]

Katy sat in the gunner seat of her Huey, a cigarette hanging from her mouth. Her HGU helmet sat on her head, the tainted eyeglass making the skies a darker shade. She looked down below her at the relatively empty and still land. It was bizarre to her. And she hated it. Being a city gal herself, she hated these quiet countrysides. She sighed and turned to look at the cockpit, spying her pilot. She flipped down the microphone on her helmet.

"Yo! How far out are we?" she asked through the headset.

Up front was Joseph, hand on the joystick and humming the tune to Drunken Sailor. Taking a small second to glance back at his buddy, he spoke.

"Give or take a hundred miles or so. Haven’t seen a landmark in a while though, just going off the compass." His eyes scanned the terrain for movement or for the odd building. "Are you doin' okay, though?" he asked, concern slipping through and into his tone.

"I’m alright…" Katy responded, taking another drag from her cigarette. "Just thinking about my kid, you know? My kid, my ex." She mumbled before tossing her cigarette out the door. Look out below, assholes. "They live in the fuckin’ sticks, though, they’ll be fine."

"Jeez, a bit of a fuckin' buzzkill. We know your ass got divorced, give it a rest."

Joseph shrugged. "Yeah, I understand where you're comin' from, Katy, but they'll be fine like y’ said." He tapped at the fuel gauge. "Oh for fuck’s sake…" he muttered.

Clancy began to stir in the back seat of the Huey, on the side opposite of Katy. He had been sleeping since they left Bangor, glad he didn’t need to walk, drive, or struggle another hundred or so miles to get to a safe zone. As he awoke, he was greeted by Katy’s complaining about her ex.

"We get it, ex this, ex that. Gonna have to move on at some point."

He grabbed onto the seat nearest to him, pushing himself forward next to where Joe was, grabbing whatever alcohol the man had left, including any around Katy as well. Bringing them close to himself.

"Lay off the beer. I don’t need us crashing in the middle of Maine. You folks can drink an ocean’s worth once we touch down."

Despite his young age, his voice was firm. Being a Catholic and a battle-proven Army Ranger had its effects on a man’s views.

Swan turned his head around to face the little asshole. The frown on his face was hidden by the tinted visor of his flight helmet.

"Oi! You little shit, give me that back or I'm turning this helicopter around and taking us all the way back to fuckin' Bangor!" Clearly, Joey wasn't all that happy about his six-pack of Bud Light being nabbed out from under him. "And if y’ think I'm kidding, I AM NOT ONE TO KID ABOUT. Give us it back." He looked over to Katy, hoping she was equally as annoyed at him as he was.

"Hey!" Katy snapped when the kid grabbed the six-pack. She sighed before taking out her own flask and tossing it up to the pilot. It was full of rum, the only bottle she had on hand before they left. After that, she grabbed the six-pack from the kid.

"So help me God, pal, I will throw you outta here," she said, mom voice and all. "My chopper, my rules."

He just shook his head at the rum—arguably worse than the beer that he had. Which he made sure she wasn’t able to grab.

"I don’t think God is gonna be helping anyone trying to drink their lives away. You got a kid to fight for."

He chuckled when Swan mentioned going back to Bangor.

"Yeah fucking right, Swan. Bangor ain’t got much beer left from the amount you folks have drunk. I bet Saco though has got one hell of a stockpile."

The audacity on this man really pissed Joseph off. He shot a second scornful look toward Clancy.

"Ahem." He cleared his throat. "It's First Lieutenant to you, Ranger Rick. Give us our beer back, that’s an order."

Yes, he was pulling rank. Who the fuck was this guy to take his beer from him? He shot another look to Katy before turning back to the flight controls, mumbling in Spanish under his breath.

"Ah Christ, he’s speaking tongues again…"Nixon mumbled, before snagging the six-pack back from their passenger. She set it back down in the passenger seat, also grabbing her flask back from Vasquez. She opened it and took a sip, before turning back to the kid.

"And don’t lecture me about my kid," she said, with the point of a finger.

Clancy chuckled at what Swan said in Spanish, before replying with a few choice curse words and reverting back to English.

"First Lieutenant doesn’t mean shit when you sit inside a helo all day. Come back to me when your boots touch down in enemy blood."

To be fair, he didn’t really mind Swan. He was funny—although the alcohol was definitely a minus.

"Well someone needs to. Keep you on a straight stick. Drinking ain’t gonna help you. Duty is."

He rubbed his tattoos slowly as he spoke.

If looks could kill, Mr. Black would be disemboweled and tied to a brick at the bottom of the Atlantic. This kid didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know the friends they lost. The reason why they drank. But alas. She had told her ex she was gonna work on her anger issues. So she gave him an angered point, then took a long sip of her rum.

"Shut it. No more talking," she said with an exhale. Fuck. She was outta rum.

After hearing that comment from the arsehole, Joey was physically shaking in rage that the man diminished his actions like that. He lost his best friend in the seat next to him, for goodness’ sake."Listen up, buddy. I will flay you like a fucking fish if you even make another FUCKING peep. DON’T EVEN MAKE YOUR SEAT CREAK!"

Clancy didn’t say anything for a few moments, just began to disassemble his rifle quietly. Cleaning it. He was still angry about the fact they drank, but he had been out of line. Well, not about the rank thing. Truth be told, they didn’t even know if the government was still in fact… the government.

"I’m sorry." He didn’t say it with weakness or malice or annoyance. Just is. He was sorry, end of story. He knew their anger. Maybe not understood it, but he knew it. He served and lost friends here and there, and despite them being pilots, they weren’t exempt from the horrors of war.

Joey took a deep breath, trying his best to calm himself down. He wasn't shaking anymore—just in an angry silence. He tapped at the fuel gauge once more, before taking a look at the paper map propped up next to him. "Nixon, did we pass over the I-95 yet?" he called back to his mate.

Katy sighed and cracked open a beer, rushing her sip when her pilot called up. She glanced down, spying the highway. "Yup. Passing it now. How much further, huh? I gotta take a fucking leak."

Joey cross-referenced the map before speaking again. "At least another 20 minutes before we see the Saco River and about 5 minutes after that before we’re in Saco." He reached a hand back to Katy for her to give him another beer.

Katy handed one to him. "Alright, I’m cutting you off. Last one till we touch down," she said. It was her job as crew chief to make sure everyone was sober enough to fly. Plus, he could make it last 25 minutes. She took another sip of her own. "You sure you’re still sober, Ranger Rick?" she asked the kid.

"Sober as the sky is blue, ma’am. Don’t expect me to all of a sudden start drinking." He began to put his rifle back together. It was probably the last one he’d ever have in good quality. Apocalypse and all probably made good guns hard to find. But either way, his was his own—that made it the best one of any. He chuckled when Joseph mentioned if it was real. "You think non-Air Force personnel could get ahold of our frequencies?"

"Yes, actually. Back in Bangor, when Katy here was under the weather with the shits, had a guy on the radio asking for a pickup like I’m a taxi." Joey shrugged, before glancing out the side window. "Keep on your toes, fellas," he said.


The radio squawked. "Unidentified helo in the vicinity of Saco, this is Captain Holloway of the U.S. Air Force. Do you read? Over."


Joey looked down at the radio, then back to Nixon. Surely they don't mean thishelicopter, right? Slowly reaching down to the microphone, he looked back to Katy and Ranger Rick. "Y’all think this is real? Like, an actual Captain of the U.S. Air Force?" he asked.

"Who the fuck would pretend to be Air Force?" Katy asked her two compatriots, before turning back to the radio. "We read. This is Shogun-2, 101st Airborne. UH-1H twin Huey. Three occupants, looking for an LZ, over." She turned back to Swan."Set her down, there should be flares or some shit. I’m gonna make sure everything’s tied down. You got it?" she asked, with a pat on the shoulder.

Clancy chuckled at Swan’s taxi comment. He probably would’ve done the same. He turned his eyes to Katy when she mentioned pretenders and just sighed.

"It’s the fucking apocalypse. People will pretend to be whatever." He had been attacked by bandits prior to meeting Katy and Swan. A few of them had military uniforms on. Tricked some of the civilians before Clancy took a look. "But just in case, my rifle is gonna be trained on the first guy I see." He prepped his gun, just in case the others weren’t military and were hostiles.

Katy turned to Black with the most Senior NCO expression possible, before smacking him on the back of the head. "You trying to get us fuckin’ killed?" she asked, stressing her point with a shove to his shoulder. "You keep the fuckin' weapon down unless I fuckin’ say so, got it?"She turned with a sigh, before grabbing her own M16, flicking the safety off and making sure a round was chambered.

"The kid had the right idea, but the wrong way of going about it. Keep it at the low-fucking-ready."

Clancy listened, but only because he didn’t feel like dealing with her shit. "Youtrying to get us killed? What if those are fucking psychos out there ready to fill us full of lead? I’d rather at least die fighting." He sat in one of the Huey chairs and waited, staring out the window as they landed. Weapon aimed at the floor, safety off. If they opened fire, they’d be dead before they could react. "Next time use the fucking radio, ay? Then we wouldn’t need to be guns-ready at all."

"They won’t be that happy if you're pointin' yer rifle at them if they’re truly Air Force. Just be ready." Joey spotted the flares after a few moments and began to descend toward them. His other hand reached into his belt holster for his Beretta, pulling back the hammer for that dramatic effect. He flicked the safety off. The helicopter approached the landing site they marked with flares. "Nixon, can y’ see ‘em?" he asked.

"Not really. Too dark," she commented as she opened the door, manning the 240 that was mounted, just in case.

"Just man the 240, which is arguably scarier than an M4," Clancy joked, covering up the booze bottles with his legs and gear. "I reckon you two ain’t the only alcoholics at this camp."


The door slid open. There were a number of National Guardsmen with M16s kept at hip-level or low-ready, but they fully lowered their weapons before too long. A guy with captain bars walked over. His uniform label read “U.S. ARMY,” though, so it must not be the same guy. "Hey, boys. Where you fly in from? I heard you say Airborne?" The guy’s name tape read JENKINS. A guy next to him named BROOKS had a helmet with a red cross on it. Jenkins nodded to him. "We're just gonna make sure you're not coming in bit. You follow me? Afterwards, we can give you a more comprehensive checkup with Doctor Burton, Lieutenant." offered the captain.

Katy observed the other soldiers, then saw the captain. She saluted. "Evening, sir,"she said, by protocol. "Yes sir, 101st. We were down in Bangor before things went to shit." She took off her flight helmet, holding it in her hands by the strap as she hopped out of the helo, taking a gander and making sure everything was still intact. Smooth landing. No damage. When Nixon saw the medic, she sighed. She wasn’t the biggest fan of doctors. But hey, she understood. "Mhm."

Clancy followed after Nixon. Waiting for Swan to get out of the aircraft before turning to follow the rest of them.“They’re 101st. I’m from the 75th Ranger Regiment.” He let his rifle hang low now. Flicking its safety on as he followed close by Nixon. Still making sure swan was nearby. Whether or not they were different units, these two were the ones we rolled with from Bangor. He didn’t say anything about needing to be checked by the doctor. It made sense, and he didn’t particularly care. Just nodded and waited.

 

[Pat]

Ellis​

“Captain Holloway.” Ellis saluted his superior after finding him outside the Command Center.

“Lieutenant.” Holloway nodded, one hand holding onto the rifle strap slung over his shoulder. Old man probably got mobilized or stepped up himself as a last line of defense when Captain Jenkins sallied forth, Ellis figured.

“Way things are going to hell sir, I think we should make an honest effort to preserve what’s worth keeping of the internet. I’d hope some other safe zone is ahead of us, but even so we could be on our own for a long time. Can you get the guys together? See if they’ll be the first volunteers? Nobody is going to sleep well tonight anyway.” He said. “Might as well do some good downloading maps and compressing Wikipedia and Medpedia.”

"Get everyone together?" Captain Holloway sucked in air through his teeth. "Lieutenant, it's just that there's still a lot of things in motion, here. A lot of the other Air Guardsmen are pulling security, or dealing with herding civilians right now. I can try tomorrow morning."

He cleared his throat. "It's not such a bad idea, though. Preserve what we can. Guess losing the web'll be like our Alexandria, huh?" he mused.

“That’ll have to do sir. I’m just worried things are going to move just as fast tomorrow morning if we don’t get our shit together. I saw deserters turn their guns on their own today just because they had second thoughts.” Ellis said.

“People might not die from it right away like today, but we’re going to have to do our best to convince people we can move forward from this. Has anyone seen Major Hodges after the big firefight?” He asked.

"Finished watching that stupid movie with the golf," Kade murmured. The Captain often babysat the Major during his stupors. "He's with his floozies right now. First Sergeant White was with them, too."

He sighed. “We’ll need to have a serious discussion before daylight tomorrow. Maybe a couple hours before the civilians are up and about. We can’t let this be brushed off for another time. Hangover or not, no matter how sour his mood we need Major Hodges to appreciate the situation for what it is. Might turn into an intervention as much as a meeting. Afterwards he can watch as much *Caddyshack* as he likes. Everyone above lieutenant that we can spare needs to be there…”

“Then, a speech from someone and public announcements about changes. I’m thinking maybe having ration distribution early, somewhere more central, and someone up high with a megaphone explaining to the freeloaders what happened, what plans we have, and telling them about ways they can contribute for more rations or privileges or something. I’ll try collaborating with Captain Taylor-Thomas, maybe you could track down Captain Spencer? I imagine Captain Rory will bump into one of us sooner or later.”

“And if Captain Jenkins wants executions first light, we’ll need a lot of floggings for this drunkenness and prostitution for the lower ranks. Or an actual quartermaster to put a stop to men like Sergeant Bates if folks are still trying to circumvent the ID system.”

"I think Captain Spencer's down by CP Alpha, but if I run into her, I'll let her know, Lieutenant," Captain Holloway replied. "From what I've heard, the guys who deserted us for Delacroix are a mixed bag," he says.

"Some of them were genuinely fed up with the old Major and how things have been deteriorating over the past month. Others see him as the last barrier between them and doing whatever they want."

He thought a bit about the prospect of punishing them. "I guess some need the snot kicked out of them, at the very least. Put through remedial training, maybe. Hard labor, restricted privileges, confinement to barracks. You're right in that we ought to hold off on the death penalty... we might need these men later. This mutiny hopefully is a one-time thing, if we're able to get a grip and instill good order and discipline among the ranks. Your idea about the QM is fine, but who's fit for the job?"

“I’d hope to say you are, Captain. You, Flynn, me. Whoever. Just has to be someone who gives a damn about this place, and has enough courage to stand up to the people among us who’d turn this place into a charnel house if their rot festers much more.” He reasoned.

“Air Force is a dead branch, and any day now it’s going to be clipped from the armed forces. If we got one of our feet into the door, and they did the job well, maybe that’s a pathway to a majority of us avoiding grunt work like today. Huey might not last us forever. If that bird can’t fly one day, we become infantry with wings.”

“As for this meeting… We won’t be able to fix everything in one night. But if we officers can get together, rise to the occasion long enough for us to agree on things, we might be able to fake it until it’s true and the consequences for failure aren’t so high. Even the most detestable bastards stuck here with us don’t want their heads on a pike or their bodies torn to shreds by infected. Civilian or uniform, lot of us still want the same things. Security and food. We just need to remind people that can only come from one source: a functioning military.”

"You're right," Kade said. “One bird, but..." The captain scratched his chin as he heard some distant rotors.

"Langley taking Ferryman up again?" he asked. "Figure you and him and Dot are three peas in a pod."

“No. Too far away, too dark out. Someone’s coming in.” Ellis fiddled around with his radio, passing it to Captain Holloway and jogging away. “See if they’re military. I’ll try to find Mann, give them a LZ.”

“Sergeant Mann!” He called out as he rounded the corner of Mill 5 and started running on the grass, “we have someone coming in,” he exhaled. “Captain Holloway will try to raise them, but if they’ll need a spot to touch down. Let’s get them one.”

He looked to the skies, trying to spot them. Maybe they’d have word on Brunswick.

-​

The stars and stripes blew in the wind next morning. He walked to the edge of the roof up to the microphone and peered down at the assembled crowd.

“Hello. I am LTJG. Mills. Many of you might know me as the pilot of the safe zone’s original Huey.” Ellis introduced himself, standing inside the military compound tower overlooking the parking lot between the old textile mill buildings.

“Yesterday, the safe zone was tested like never before. Men dishonored their uniforms, a horde threw itself at our gates, and brother fought brother like it was the outbreak all over again. Fear entered our hearts, closing them to our fellow Americans. How could it have come to this? We asked ourselves. After all we have lost, and after all we have sacrificed to get here?

Let me tell you the stories of Joseph Delacroix and Anthony Rennox.

Three days ago, when Lieutenant Flynn gathered military officers and civilian leaders around the same table to plan on how we should take back control of our lives, Delacroix hiijacked a meeting of the refugee council to call for an end to martial law. He wanted them to demand Major Hodges to step down, and failed to get a single vote. The monster Delacroix claimed resided in HQ would’ve taken action then, but we are not governed by our expectations. Just a man. A man who did his best to save who he could with what he had when the world was crashing down all around him and the burden of command fell onto his shoulders.

And where was Rennox? He wasn’t with Lieutenant Flynn, or even Delacroix, but out shooting infected beyond our perimeter. Drawing more infected closer to the safe zone, at great risk to the security of these islands, and with nothing to show for it. This time, he was not wasting our limited bullets alone, but helping his personal militia armed with misappropriated military grade weapons and ammunition to do the same. Unvetted volunteers led by a mentally unstable man outside the chain of command was a recipe for disaster from the start, and when confronted by Major Hodges, ordered to work alongside Lieutenant Gino, and forced to make the militia supply it’s own ammo for firing exercises on the islands, he rejected compromise and joined forces with a known agitator out of spite.

So the stage was set for the events of May 17th.

That day, Delacroix gathered the fuses in the refugee council building, and Rennox brought the gunpowder. While the military was acting to better the safe zone, induct more refugees, and protect it from the contagion that has made all of Maine radio silent, these ringleaders chose to ignite yesterday’s violence with a lie in the same building where it had been soundly rejected.

Why did they have to lie about Major Hodges’ words? He never banned firearm training. He had acted to ensure the firepower that prevented a horde of infected from devouring Factory Island remained where it belonged. They lied because they knew what they were doing was wrong. Because aspiring to form a new undemocratic council of yes-men and assembling an armed mob was easier and more self-gratifying than reaching consensus or obeying superiors. They were lazy and power hungry, and all those who followed them paid the price for it.

At first, the terrorists thought to march on Factory even as it was under attack. As they prepared to leave their families to fend for themselves, they were confronted by brave guardmen, and chose instead to crackdown on civilians on Springs just as scared as they were over fuel that they had no more right to or use for. Rennox himself personally executed the dead and dying with point-blank headshots from his sidearm.

These terrorists had lost the moment they abandoned the march and decided to hoard supplies with the intent to make Springs Island suffer through a protracted siege already doomed from the onset. Defeated in battle after defying curfew, Rennox fled to save his own skin, and Delacroix resolved to take more lives with him.

These are the actions of men who were determined to poison the well and abandon their families if they couldn’t dictate how a community drank from it. They were taken in, given opportunities to be a part of the solution, rejected all solutions, and instead created a nightmare to live their dreams.

I do not ask of you to forgive Major Hodges or the military forces behind him. You shouldn’t.

I ask of you to understand us.

When I was in the skies, I spotted 11,000 infected between this safe zone and a future where Saco and Biddeford can be reclaimed. As of now, we may be the sole remaining safe zone, civilian or military, left in all of Maine. We have a collective responsibility to our country not only to outlast and destroy the infected, but to work together to transform ourselves and these islands into something more than a community of refugees, and into something more than a refugee camp.

The work begins today for us residents of the safe zone. Should we survive through now to winter, spring shall be the start of our long recovery. Even if no rescue is coming, even if we must continue this struggle alone, we must together soldier on for the sake of the generations inheriting this new world.”

Finishing his speech, Ellis turned to the man behind him, motioning him forward. “In that spirit, I’d like to hand things off to Congressman Alan Thomas.” He spoke, backing away and giving him a bit of applause.

 

[Miaow]

Once the bloodied man had been escorted away, the screening process continued. Hattie and Kaylee reached the front of the queue and were patted down, ensuring neither were armed...
"ID," The man, donned in camo, stated. Hattie rooted through her hoodie pocket, retrieving her ID and handing it over. He checked it, nodded, and handed it back.
"Go into the building on your left for questioning. You stay there until we tell you you can go."
"Wait-- I need to find the doctor," Hattie told him.
"Why, you hurt?"
"No--"
"Then it can wait. Get going."

Hattie shot him a look. What an ass. She wasn't even allowed to finish a damn sentence. She walked to the adjacent building, following the crowd of women and children as they were filtered inside. She watched over her shoulder, hoping to spot a glimpse of Ionut before she headed inside. She took a seat, scanning the room for anyone she recognised as she waited for questioning. Kaylee soon joined her.

As Flynn began his speech, Kaylee took a seat beside Hattie. The actual content of his speech seemed promising... an electrical grid, new housing... though the way he said it seemed to piss Kaylee off. Hattie could feel the anger vibrating from her.

"The fuck does he mean, 'sit around feeling bad for ourselves," did he just forget about the rebellion?" She hissed, keeping her voice to a whisper despite Flynn's departure.
"Why'd he have to bring up smash burgers... I was hungry already," Hattie murmured in response, leaning on her elbows in an attempt to squish her stomach and dull the hunger pangs.
"Because he's an asshole. I bet he hasn't actually lost anyone, either," Kaylee huffed. With what was happening to her mother, Flynn's words seemed disingenuous. She couldn't help but wonder if he knew about it and simply chose to turn a blind eye.

Hattie let out a long sigh through her nose, leaning back in her seat. Can they hurry up?! I need to find Ionut...

"You," A camo-clad soldier spoke up, pointing at Hattie from across the room, before beckoning her over with his finger. His name was embroidered on his chest. Gino. Hattie glanced at Kaylee who gave her the look. Hattie knew what it meant, she just hoped her interrogator didn't.

She followed him into a separate room, taking a seat across from him. She sat on top of her hands, her shoulders a little hunched, her legs swinging from the chair.

"Right... walk me through what happened today. How did you get to Springs Island?" The man spoke, tapping a pen on his notepad as he took his seat.

"Uhh... Ionut, the doctor, he brought me to the refugee council meeting--" Hattie began.
"Ionut?" The man interrupted her.
"He's from Romania, Dr Albescu?"
"Oh, John," He murmured, scribbling something down.
"Someone was hurt so he had to go." Hattie continued, "He said to stay in the council hall but people started shooting, so Kaylee took me to the dam where people were cooking fish. Someone said over the radio that we had 5 minutes to get indoors so we hid in the garage until the evacuation started."

"How do you know Kaylee?"
"We only met today... in the council hall,"
"Did you talk to anyone else?"
"No," Hattie responded, maybe a little quicker than she should have. She didnt know whether Emanuel was a rebel or not... but he'd certainly contributed by stealing and cooking fish from the dam. Admitting she knew he was the one behind it could really drop him in it.
"Can you identify anyone from the meeting? Anyone who was looting things, being violent..?"
Hattie shook her head, to which the man gave her a look.
"I've been in the medbay since I got here. I've only met people from the medical team, today was the first day I left Factory island," She explained.
Gino raised an eyebrow.
"How long have you been here?"
"Uhh... a couple of weeks, I think? I'm not really sure. Ionut said I had a concussion, so--"
"Oh, you're the kid from the bridge, right?" He asked, setting his pen down, "I remember when they brought you in."

The man let out a sigh, leaning forward.
"Look... That day could have gone very differently for you. We had no obligation to help you. I mean, you looked undead. If that soldier hadn't taken a closer look, you could've been shot on sight. If we want to help more people like you, we need boots on the ground, expanding the safe zone, gathering resources, and building infrastructure. We can't do that if we're busy stopping a rebellion. Do you understand that?"
Hattie looked him in the eye as he spoke, her face almost emotionless... apart from a subtle grimace as the man reminded her of her brush with death. She wasn't sure his noble speech was having the effect he wanted it to... We could have killed you, just like we killed all of those other people, so you should support us unquestionably. She waited until he finished.
"Ok," She responded simply, the less she revealed, the better. Gino maintained eye contact, as if trying to gleam anything from Hattie's face, before eventually relenting.
"You're free to go."

 

[Lord Bradorian]

SFC Roger Noones, Springs Island, 5/17
Noones unsheathed his combat knife from his tool belt and sliced off the lobe of Joseph's left ear once he'd passed, stowing it away in his vest. He then stood, shaking his head, and replacing his glove. "He's gone. We're done here."

Taking another look at Joseph's lifeless body. he felt a strong sense of triumph. In only a few hours, his platoon had destroyed the leadership of the short-lived uprising, hopefully preventing the further spread of dissidence by cutting off the head of the snake. It hadn't been easy...many of his men had been wounded and killed, but that was what it meant to answer the call of duty.

But, the job wasn't done -- some of the rebels were still hiding on the island, amongst the civilian populace.

Gesturing to the Guardsmen around him to continue to advance, the soldiers moved deeper into the building. The heavy fighting was over, now it was just a matter of clearing out the rest of the rooms...hopefully before the rest of the building collapsed. It was holding for now, but the APC was buried in rubble, and due to their generous use of tear gas, the stuff was billowing out of the opened up section of the Refugee Hall, drifting windward. The rest of the platoon pulling security should be positioned far enough away to not be effected, but they might catch a whiff.

Working with his teammates to secure the rest of the building, the Sergeant also organized for the wounded and captured on both sides to be evacuated and brought to safety. Dislodging the APC from the hall once everyone had been gotten outside, weapons confiscated and dead counted, the several injured were loaded inside - including the badly wounded Sergeant Schuwer - and sent back across the brige onto Factory Island to get them to the medics.

"Saco ALL, this is Saco 2, Refugee Hall is secure, partially ruined. Confirmed K.I.A. on H.V.T. Wounded and prisoners are being evacuated overland. Platoon 2 is moving to secure the rest of the island, and finish the mission. Over."

A squad from Platoon 2 takes over the M113, backing it out of it's parking spot inside of the Refugee Hall, and begins to shuttle wounded and captives back across the bridge controlled by CP Bravo. There, they are given a ride to Medbay by one of the various units still massed at that Command Post.

Once the APC returned to the formation, the platoon reorganized themselves into fireteams, and began to meticulously clear the residences, apartment buildings, and other places that enemies could be hiding on Springs Island.

They were still wary of shooting some stupid civilian who hadn't gotten the various memos to get the fuck out of Biddeford, but for the most part, the soldiers were expecting anyone they encountered to be an enemy. Each clearing team was equipped with one type of less lethal or another - tasers, beanbags, spray, etc.​

 

[Sistros]

Rep. Alan Thomas
Factory Island – New Beginnings​

In retrospect, it wasn't easy to discern the events leading up to this moment. Days had slipped by without distinction, blending into weeks that would inevitably soon transition into months. In fact, he could no longer recall the circumstances in which he had arrived in the Saco Safe Zone. It was a vicious cycle, one that Alan Thomas could not escape. That was the culmination of his grief, a powerful intoxicant that had gripped him with such intensity that it rendered him inert.

But what else could he have done in the face of such adversity?

The world had gone to hell in the wake of the zombie apocalypse. That’s what had ultimately taken the lives of his wife and daughter. They hadn’t fallen victim to the zombie hordes, but rather the collapse of contemporary society. It was Alan’s fault for underestimating the people’s desperation and fear while fleeing Washington. Anarchy had reigned on that day.

The panicked crowds had surged forth…

He had reached urgently for their outstretched hands…

… but they were swept away by the throng of bodies.

Alan had failed to protect his family.

And so, it was cruel irony that the aftermath of a deadly rebellion would ignite a spark within him. It broke the shackles of his despair, swept away his mental haze, and brought purpose back to his life. For the first time in weeks, Alan recognized his worth. Even in the midst of this shattered world, there was still so much he could accomplish. He was spared to enact change and rally the survivors.

He now stood beside Lieutenant Ellis Mills on a makeshift stage to address the people of Factory Island. The applause from the crowd set him alight, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he raised his hands to acknowledge their reception. It was his first step into a larger world:

“Brothers. Sisters. Survivors,” Alan began in an even tone as he spoke into the amplifier. “Look around you and tell me what you see. Ruins. Ashes. Empty places where laughter once echoed, where families once sat down to eat, to dream… to live. We have lost more than we thought we could bear. And I–I stand before you not as a man untouched, but as one broken and reforged in the fire.

“My wife, Beth, and my little girl, Sarah… th–they were my world.” He pursed his lips and took a moment to gather his emotions, a hand sweeping his tousled hair away from his forehead. “I–I held their hands the night the news broke about the dead rising. I promised to protect them… and failed. I f–failed. I watched as the world we knew collapsed. I watched as people turned on each other in fear, as the rebellion, led by Joseph Delacroix tore through what little hope we had left.

“But in that pain, in that loss... I found something else.” He raised his fist in the air for emphasis. “Resolve. I took my grief and used it as a forge. And from the fire of that forge, we can all rise—not alone, but together.

“What we do now matters. The rebellion tried to tear us apart, to break our backs and scatter us in the dark. But we are still here. As long as we draw breath, we will not just survive—we will rebuild. We will restore order. We will take back our future.

“The military may be fractured, but it is not broken. I swear to you—on the memory of my family—that the chain of command still holds. Discipline still means something. And through that discipline, through our unity and strength, we will protect the people under our care. We will make this Remnant, here in the Saco Safe Zone, more than just a shadow of the world before. I will be a seed of something new. Stronger. Smarter. Unbreakable.

“To those who have lost everything, know you are not alone. Stand with me. Stand with Major Hodges. Stand with Lieutenant Ellis.” He nodded to the man on his right. “Stand with each other. We will reclaim the night. We will hold the line. And when the sun rises again, it will rise on a new beginning—one born not from fear, but from courage. The world is watching to see if humanity still has a fight left in it.”

Taking a long glance at the assembly, Alan’s eyes met many in the crowd, connecting with them, seeking their approval.

“Let’s give it one hell of an answer.”

 

[Lorsh]

The End of the Rebellion

It's getting dark. Most of Delacroix's holdouts, including the commander himself, are killed when the National Guard breached the refugee council hall with an APC ramming and tear gas.

Soldiers and police searched all the remaining buildings in Springs, arresting anyone who failed to surrender at the checkpoint. A few are old, young or wounded, so exceptions are made. Firefighters and medics treated the injured, and cops guarded those who were detained. All the weapons confiscated from the rebels are consolidated in the armory.

The defected National Guardsmen and police officers who were complicit in Delacroix and Rennox's uprising are disarmed and kept under guard, along with the main agitators among the civilian populace. A decision has to be made regarding those being held in detainment for mutiny, desertion, looting, and public disorder. At least three murderers, and two lieutenants of the rebellion have been captured as well; the latter comprising Tobias Fuller and Olly Hart, both from Springs Island. The deserter who threatened Lieutenant Mills was identified as Corporal Toby MacPhail of the U.S. Army Reserve, 619th Transportation Company. During further investigation into rebel activities, Hatsuki Sato was taken aside by Second Lieutenant Gino and interrogated about her activities on Springs Island, but later released. Her friend, Kaylee Gray, managed to stay under the radar even better than Hattie, despite her actual culpability in the rebellion...



Major Hodges is blacked out and unable to address anyone, nor greet the newcomers that had arrived via helicopter from Bangor. Captain Jenkins, however, just barely manages to oversee the wrap-up of tonight's chaotic events. "You did good, guys. This place could have been gone," he snapped his fingers, "just like that, overnight, if you guys hadn't of showed up and unfucked it. There will be a proper debrief soon enough tomorrow," he promised. There never was going to be one until Lieutenant Mills took the stage. His message was directed to the zone in general as opposed to just the troops, though.

After the Lieutenant and Congressman's speech, the crowd of Factory Islanders dispersed, going back to their shelters and work stations. There had been applause, at least. The fact that the local representative was a refugee like everyone else did hearten some of the folks.

May 17th left seventy-eight people dead. The bodies needed to be dealt with, including over a hundred infected corpses. Ultimately, only Privates Kwan and Hess are buried in small marked plots on Factory Island, along with Corporals Frechette and Hawke — the latter of whom died of his wounds — and Chief Warrant Officer Jack Mueller, who died of a heart attack shortly after the fighting started on Springs. All of the dead civilians, looters, rebels and deserters are burned in pyres just at the end of Checkpoint Charlie. Springs Island has to use up the last of their fuel reserves to burn the dead, and the lights go out by the next morning.

The wounded have all been treated, and most are making decent progress on their recovery thanks to Doctor Hadley sparing no expense on their treatment, assisted by Greenwald, Burton and Albescu. Still, the anarchic, bloody mayhem that ensued last night leaves morale low. Life is especially miserable in Springs, now dark at night and still stained with old blood. People light candles, burn trash in barrels, set out containers to collect rainwater, and board up their windows and doors to protect what remaining supplies they have.

Several people make a stink about wanting to leave the zone, no longer considering it safe. The guards don't let them, and insist they stay at gunpoint once it comes down to it. This time, people understand that they aren't kidding.

May 20th. Three days after the uprising was crushed. The residents of the Saco Bay Safe-Zone can finally get to work on their expansion, joined by their new friends from Bangor. Meanwhile, Rennox, Love, and Delacroix have been ash for over 72 hours.



Food is being handed out by Lieutenant Gino. Soldiers are posted on the rooftop, and there's two machine gun nests, one topside and one on the ground, both behind piles of sandbags. Cops in riot gear watch as people file along in lines, many wearing face masks. They get a few scoops of dandelion, fiddlehead and fish stew, and a pack of crackers or something if they're lucky. Some of the soldiers give candy to the kids from the personal supplies. Sergeant Bates smokes a cigarette with a pair of young women in the line, in charge of the security detail that had been assigned by Captain Jenkins this morning.


Katy approached the stand, smoking a cigarette as well. She wore her BDUs, along with a PC. The sleeves on her jacket were rolled up, and she got in line. Her M9 rested on her hip.She started scoping out the potential help, like a Texan Foreman at a Home Depot. A lot of cops. She figured they wouldn’t be doing too much. The soldiers probably had jobs. Plus, the cops probably knew the place better. When she reached the front, she took her food and looked up at the LT. ”Afternoon, sir.” she greeted. ”You know where I can find the police captain? I need to borrow a few cops.”

Katy is handed a bowl of soup and some condiment packets. "I don't know," Gino replies. "Which one do you want to talk to? McAllister?" he asked. He handed Joseph a bowl of soup as well.

Katy snarfed some soup down, before glancing back up, her mouth still full.”I don’t fuckin’ know, I just got here. Which one of ‘em is in charge?” she asked, before swallowing the soup.

Gino scowled and gestured dismissively with his soup ladle. "Like I said, Sergeant, I don't know. The people behind you are waiting for their meal. Move along."
Katy sighed. Fuckin’ guard. She tossed her cigarette down.”Hooah, sir.” She said, taking her soup and taking a hike. She walked up to the nearest cop, pointing at them with her spoon. ”Hey, guy. Where’s your boss, I gotta talk to ‘im,” she said in her gruff, New York accent.


The cop lifted the polycarbonate visor on his helmet, and hummed and hawed. "Oh, uh, I can get him." He called out to his sergeant, and a different cop with a porno-mustache walked over. He nodded to Katy. "Everything alright?" he asked.


”Thanks, bud.” she said, snarfing down some more soup.

When the sergeant walked over, she stuck her hand out for a shake.”Yeah, everything’s fine. Sarn’t First Class Nixon. Airborne. You mind if I borrow a few of your guys? We’re a little short right now, we need to do a scavenging run for some gas. Keep the fuckin’ helo flying.” she explained. Now, she knew it was for napalm, but she figured that Helo’s were more ‘mission essential.’


The Saco PD sergeant, whose name reads 'STEELE', chewed on the inside of his cheek. "I don't got the say in that. It's martial law and all, I answer to the guys up in HQ."He pointed over to Mill 5. "You should talk to them, first. I'm gonna get in shit if I loan out the guys pulling security here."


Katy sighed. Location, Location, Location. She better get some guys out of this. ”Mhm. Thanks, Pal.” she said, swallowing her soup and giving the copper a pat on the shoulder, before taking off towards the mill.She entered, taking off her PC, holding it under her elbow as she continued to shovel soup in her mouth. She walked up to the nearest cop. ”Hey, where’s the boss around here?”


Only an MP can be found, but it's close enough. "Are you talking about the Major?" the guy asked. "Or do you mean more like... Flynn, or Ellis or something?"
”The Major.” she said, snarfing down some more soup.
The MP nodded slowly. He imagined a few scenarios in his head, but either way he lead Katy upstairs to the Officers' Mess. The Major and First Sergeant (despite being an NCO) are sitting on the couch, drinking beer and watching a movie.Both men are chortling at some scene from Office Space. Beating up a photocopier or something. Some other guy was sitting on a computer. The Major turned his head and gave the newcomer a wave. "Come on in." Hardly the officers' mess at this point.​

​

Katy entered and stood at attention, saluting the major, before going to parade rest.“Morning, Sir.” she said. ”I need a few guys, sir. Cops, Soldiers, whoever you got to spare. Just two or three.”
Hodges furrowed his brow, and 1SG White grabbed the remote off of the coffee table, pausing the movie."What for?" Hodges asked.​

​

”Helo’s running low on gas, sir. Figured we can make a few runs and grab some more.” she explained. She struggled to balance her soup bowl and her PC in separate hands behind her back. But still, years of being a mechanic had given her steadier hands than most.​

​

Ellis looked up from the computer. Though this one was likely to be set aside for recreation, and maybe a few minor administrative duties, every screen in the safe zone was going to have a purpose and intended users soon enough. If he had to color code them he would.At the newcomer’s suggestion he perked up. “Where? The municipal airport?” He asked. He had managed to sneak a peek before he had to chase down the deserters.​

​

”No, sir. Schools. They keep ethanol in the science labs. Figure we could also make some napalm with it or whatnot. We fly more, do more damage.”​

​

“You have a map handy?” Ellis chirped, patting his pockets.​

​

First Sergeant White remarked, "Shit that's from school's usually diluted."​

​

Ellis looked at White. “Gold Star first sergeant. There a reason you know that?” He questioned out of curiosity, taking out a carpenter’s pencil.


"Substitute teacher," Vince told him simply. He stood up grabbed another Pabst Blue Ribbon from the fridge.


“Ah.” Ellis said. “Ever want to teach on that, or maybe brush up on what you know, classes for the kids and even adults are on the docket eventually.” He offered before returning his attention to Katy. “If it’s chemicals were really after, and not avgas, the medical college southeast of here might be a much bigger score. After that shootout we’re low on medical supplies in general. I don’t expect to need them right away, but once they’re gone, we’re going to have a hell of a time finding or making anything close to what must be there.” He pointed out. He yawned. “We should maybe see if any of the safe zone residents know about the situation on campus before going though. When the outbreak hit the staff and students there might’ve had the idea to try treating overflow from the clinics and hospitals.”

Katy eyed the PBR like a schizophrenic eyeing a cop’s sidearm. It was her personal favorite beverage. And she hadn’t had one in a minute.

But her attention was returned to the Sailor. Well shit. If she got sent on another side quest, she would be pretty fuckin’ angry. Last time she does running around for Swan. Hell, he was probably taking a nice long nap somewhere. The asshole.”I think we got enough fuel to hit both, if we get enough folks, sir.” She began to consider the logistics of everything. God, she didn’t get paid enough for this shit. ”We got a uh… a ranger. He’s a bit dense but, seems like an alright kid…” she rambled, before getting back on topic. ”But maybe lend of some gas and some folks, we all get what we want.”


Vince turned to Katy, tearing another beer from the pack. He chucked the PBR at her.


Katy opened it and immediately took a big sip.”’Preciate it, First Sarn’t…” she mumbled, wiping her mouth with her arm.


“I don’t know if you’ve been briefed on the horde locations, but we go to Biddeford High, we could draw the Big Lots Horde and start concentrating the Biddeford Horde. And Thornton, Thornton is right next to the center of the Saco Horde, they’re still spread out like the Biddeford Horde, but that’s the epicenter of that storm.” He spoke, settling on sketching a crude map with his poorly cut pencil on a napkin. “Both the Saco and Biddeford groups are 3,000 strong, and the Big Lots group is about 1,000, but a lot tighter packed.” He elaborated, fishing out photos Daughtry took of the streets on May 17th.“All for whatever happens to be in a education-focused chem lab.”


Kathrine sighed and took another drink. Yes or no, all she needed was yes or no. The crew chief knew that if she didn’t get the greenlight, Swanny would chew her out, and she wasn’t in the mood for that.”LT, if we get some of that ethanol, we could start making Napalm. Ideal weapon against the hordes. We start flying bombing missions, and those infected motherfuckers are toast.” she explained, pun not intended. ”We just need a few guys. Cops, troopers, whatever the fuck.”


Hodges scratched the back of his head. "The uhh, college. What about that, then?" he posited.


“University of New England. Medical supplies. Maybe more chemicals. Doctors and nurses would know more. I’ve only been there once or twice.” Ellis shrugged. “Lieutenant Flynn mentioned it in passing. There’s the farm raid we’ll do upriver soon enough,” he reminded. “If we have waste or excess produce from that, we could try making our own ethanol in the lab.”


Bellerose walks in with a good mood “Well, looks like I'm joining the raid. Got permission from base, I can finally do some field work besides sitting at operations all day again.”


“Base?” Ellis asked. “There’s no other base than this.”


“I mean my commanders. Anyways what do we have planned?” Rachel said. She takes a seat wherever she can


“Unless someone has something more to say, it’s time for Major Hodges to squeeze the trigger on a mission,” Ellis remarked.


Hodges lifted up a hand, mimicking a pistol, and did pull the notional trigger. ""Right. We need to zero in... what we're lookin' for. We can't go out unless the reward's big or the place is close. With so many zombies crawling around and our recent losses, we can't afford to lose even a handful of the guys," the Major said. He nodded to Kathrine. "I'll give you some guys. But you're takin' Lieutenant Mills' map and following it." Normally, it wasn't such a good idea to trust lieutenants with nav, but the guy did have a helicopter.

“So high school and the med college then?” Ellis clarified.


"Fine. Hit both," Hodges said. "The Biddeford PD did set up in BHS, back in April when everything started. They got overrun quick and I'm pretty sure the stragglers must have checked it out by now, but you could also look for some their gear. Check for snacks and shit that might be around, maybe secure some stuff that's educational."


“I recommend we use humvees and trucks for the high school. Quieter, more likely to not draw as much attention.” Ellis advised. “Would suck to have to redraw the horde locations closer to the safe zone.”


Sergeant Noones hadn't slept well over the last few nights. Late at night, behind shuttered eyelids, he saw the scenes of chaos and destruction which had ensued on the seventeenth. Most hours of the night he'd toss and turn, but when he did manage to sleep, he dreamt of dragging Hawke out of the turret of his humvee. Of watching Simon crumple like a sack of potatoes - hacking off Joseph's ear. The bullet-riddled corpses of Corporals Rennox and Love. How much could one man take, in this cruel, forsaken world? He sympathized with the members of command who had withdrawn from their responsibilites. It is hard to give orders you can morally stand behind in the murky waters of today's hellish world.

So it had been with heavy bags underneath his eyes and an air of weariness about him that Noones had found himself in the Officer's Mess, some days later. He'd been putting around the zone the last couple days, keeping himself busy shooting the shit with his men, drinkin' beers and smokin' darts, but he knew that if he was gonna get out of the funk that he'd fallen into. Leaning against the wall by the doorway, Noones folded his arms and listened to the other officers discuss the next move. Capping a flask he'd...found, during the operation on Springs Island, he spoke up briefly. To any man who knew him, it would be immediately apparent that he was off his game. But to suggest so to his face was certain to draw the wrath of the restless NCO.

"The 172nd is ready for its next assignment."


Hodges and Vince glanced at Noones briefly, the latter of whom upnodded him, then looked back over at Lieutenant Ellis."You shouldn't take a deuce and a half, they can be loud," Vince said. "Just take an LSSV."


“That good enough for you?” Ellis turned to Katy. “We can hug the river, check up on that crashed humvee along the way, radioing it for pick-up if it’s worth retrieval, and hit the high school all in one trip. Then another time we can check out the med college, municipal airport, or what have you. I think if Noones and Bellerose are up for it, the Saco PD might be worth checking out. Give them a few cops and a couple soldiers, they could get us some more ammo and equipment," he suggested for the latecomers.


Katy simply sat, or rather stood back and let the officers discuss Officer things. This was bullshit, Swan should be doing this stuff, not her. He was the fucking officer. A shitty excuse for one anyway.”So we’re not flying? My pilot’s gonna be pissed but that works.” she said, based off what she interpreted. She wasn’t made for these big scale briefings. She was made for fixing helos. ”I’m sorry, what’s the deal?”
“I’m saying we do two different missions. One team to the crashed humvee and the high school, and the other to the police station like two blocks away from the safe zone,” said Lieutenant Mills.


Major Hodges rubbed his stubble. "Here's the deal, then. Take... two 'vees, and some utility trucks -- yeah. It shouldn't be a big deal to have a go at that place. It's close. Why most of the Saco cops survived, and why Biddeford's didn't, really..."


Katy nodded. So they weren’t flying.I swear to Christ, is swanny gives me shit about this, I’m jamming him into the fuckin’ blades. ”Rog.” she said with a nod. ”You guys need some extra help?”She might’ve been POG, but she’s been in her fair share of scraps to know what she’s doing. Plus, she would use any excuse to get out and look for Mary and her son.

“I’ll come but I’m staying with the vehicle," said Lieutenant Mills.

First Lieutenant William Flynn entered the officer mess with giant bags under his eyes. It was clear that he did not get much sleep the last few days as he was busy overseeing efforts to fortify the safe zone, its new expansion and connect the entire safe zone to the grid... a large order for a platoon with only 30 or so men though they did conscript prisoner labor to assist them. He paused at the doorway, somewhat amused by the scene before him. It was much more lively here than normal. He expected the officers to be lazing about and staring at the screen or something while pounding beer. The screen was paused... which was a start.

Normally, he would come up with a joke, but today his sleep deprived brain wasn't in the mood to crack a sly joke. Instead he approached Major Hodges' desk with a small stack of papers and a short salute. "Promotion and medal recommendations, organizational recommendations, and budget requests to get the Safe Zone fully secured. With your approval, my boys will continue fortifying the safe zone under the command of my platoon sergeant." Flynn curtly said to the Major as he dropped the papers onto Hodges' desk. Flynn then reached into a pocket and pulled out a pen and offered it to Hodges with a dead stare. Flynn was fifty fifty on whether Hodges would actually bother reading through everything or just barely skim through it and sign off. Regardless, he had to at least maintain the image of following the chain of command. Things were barely being held together already as is with the rebellion.


Bleary-eyed Hodges looked through the paper, mostly skimming. He paid most attention to the recommendations for promotion. "Thanks, Lieutenant. Let's see... uhhh..." He clicked the pen a few times as he scanned Flynn's suggestions.


As Flynn waited for Hodges to finish skimming through the papers, he began to look around at the numerous people in the officer mess hall. "The hell is going on here? You've got enough people for a party, but I don't see a keg or a couple of empty Jack Daniels bottles rolling on the floor." Flynn asked to no one in particular as he nodded in acknowledgement when he made eye contact with Lt. Mills, and Sgt. Noones.


"Vince..." Hodges called. The First Sergeant groaned and got up off the couch, heading over to the Major. "You throw together an enlisted promotion board, rog?" Vince nodded to him, glancing at the papers as well.


Katy finished her soup and her beer as the others talked. She thought of how much shit she would be in with Swan. The dumb mother fucker. How he graduated was a mystery to her. He was a hell of a pilot though.

Flynn stood by as the 1SG and Major looked over his promotion recommendations. Flynn briefly commented, "Given our manpower concerns, I want to emphasize my recommendation to form a militia that can supplement our ability to defend the Safe Zone. We would need reliable and trust worthy NCOs to train and lead these militia squads. I do not believe these militia should be brought on operations outside of the Safe Zone, but rather serve as a supplemental auxiliary guard. God knows that we could have used more guns on the line when the horde came from Saco while the rebellion was happening."


“We should figure out a plan to confiscate whatever explosive materials the safe zone residents have left. Those pipe bombs that were found in rebel possession are scary. That rebellion was more or less spontaneous, and they had those ready to go. Next ones we find could be in a mailbox or in a humvee.” Ellis cautioned.


“Where do they even find these much TNT to make the explosives anyway?” Rachel comments about the rebels


“Household items is my guess. You’d be surprised how much shit you can make with just some household cleaning supplies.” Katy said.


Ellis rubbed his head. “Highlight is: someone on Springs had the knowledge and resources to blow soldiers up. To prevent them from actually succeeding one day, we can figure out the how when, and only when, we have their contraband secured. Nobody should die because a wannabe Unabomber has a bone to pick with the military. If everyone is still supportive of the Saco police station expedition, I suggest we give Noones and Bellerose the personnel and equipment they need to secure that building and haul whatever they find back.” Ellis said to the room and to Major Hodges, trying to wrap things up so he can get on the road himself.


“Interesting. Comp B as well as TNT and RDX are required. The real question is how and where do they get these resources. Knowledge is only part of the equation. After the expedition, I'll look into it more. I know some sources I can still use with my experience in the FBI," Rachel Bellerose said.


Ellis steps outside. “I’ll be at the motor pool. Come get me when we’re going to the high school.”


The door closed. "High school? I thought you were prepping for the farm scouting operation?" Flynn called out.


"They're hitting both," White mentioned.


"Nono, he said they were going to that medical college," Hodges said, shaking his head exaggeratedly at the First Sergeant.​

​

"So, we don't have a heli tasked to scout out the farms? We're already serving thin fish broth and it's May. If we don't start planting soon. We're going to have to wait till next year." Flynn replied.


"Lieutenant, you're right," Hodges agreed. He pointed at Katy. "Your guy can make that flight afterwards. Maybe that'll please him."


Katy nodded. “Hooah, sir.”

Flynn nodded in approval. He believed that the farm should be their top priority, but as long as it was done within the next day or two... then it wasn't the end of the world. "So, two operations today. One to check out the Saco PD and other to hit up the high school and college. I'll be on stand by, helping with 1st platoon's construction efforts and serve as QRF if things get FUBAR."


"Alright, guys," Hodges said. "Go get your boys ready for your respective missions. Sergeant Nixon, I'm gonna send second platoon. You got that, Noones? Have Brown pick out some guys." The Major looked tired, disheveled, pathetic almost. This took a lot out of him.

As the Major addressed him, the look about him made Roger angry. Part of it was insecurity about his own state of being, but still...this was supposed to be his commanding officer? This stupid-looking layabout?

Snapping quickly to attention, Noones raised his right hand in salute, his left balling into a fist by his side as he stood rigidly. "Yes sir! I will ready my men." Roger acknowledged with unnecessarily trumped-up formality, in contrast with how some of the higher ups were acting. Glancing at the newcomer Nixon he'd been assigned to go out with he then spun on his heel, and walked ceremoniously out of the mess. The act was passive aggressive, but he figured Hodges himself wouldn't be sensible enough to catch the slight, or care much about it anyway - the senior NCO might. Either way, Roger had the plausible deniability of just being enthusiastic in his salute of his 'commanding officers.' The platoon sergeant headed to his unit's barracks.


Hodges scoffed and murmured something inaudible to First Sergeant White, before looking away and shaking his head. Flynn, noticing that Hodges was getting overwhelmed, took the opportunity to try and hand over the pen for his signature. "Your approval, sir?"

The Major took it, nodding to Lieutenant Flynn. He scribbled his signature on the papers where needed.



​

​

 

[phibglib]

As Amelia listened to the speeches from Flynn, Ellis, and Representative Thomas, her face was neutral. The same was true of the rest of her family. They were neutral and silent.

And a few hours later, they spoke in a secluded area.

"Well, this was... somewhat predictable," said Henry, Amelia's father. "It was probably more predictable than it seemed when this first started. But few people have a sense of how bad things can actually get." He sighed. "Optimism bias, as you're all aware."

"But we can't lose hope, can we?" said Chelsea, Amelia's mother. "It's the only thing we have left."

"Mum's right," said Adriana. "I've been a little bit cynical most of my life. And that's because it's easy to recognize when humans are acting like arseholes, but also, I've tried to keep my faith that things can work out for the better."

"I agree," said Amelia. "But my personal assessment is that it's increasingly unlikely to happen, at least in the near term. Who knows over the long term? And it does sap your motivation to fight back... but it's still important, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well... maybe all of our problems will just go away if we wish really hard!" said Felix, chuckling nervously.

"This whole situation blows," said Scarlett, the youngest, bluntly.

Amelia chuckled softly. "That it does, my dear Scarlett. That it does."

 

[BloodLightning27]

~Sgt. Cassidy Dakota Maddox~

Pregnancy Tracker

Pregnancy Progression: 36/42 Weeks

Countdown to Labor & Delivery: 252/294 Days

Weight Gain: 192/200 Lbs

Delivery Window: July 10th

Health: 75/100

Stamina: 50/100

Medical Supplies: |Maternal Status: Fatigued
Supplies Remaining: Prenatal Vitamins |Clean Water | Pain Relief
Reaching Checkpoint AlphaCassidy Dakota Maddox, a Military Police Officer and Expectant Mother of Twins, had struck out on her own when the infection came to Maine. With the imminent collapse of society and government structure, Cassidy fled into the wilderness of the state, determined to survive. The last month has been long, tiring and difficult between staying on the move and a rapidly advancing pregnancy. Without proper medical care, she had to exercise extreme caution. Upon hearing that there was a safe zone by the river, Cassidy began making her way there, determined to reestablish a semblance of contact with civilization and hopefully access proper medical care to hopefully move towards a healthier late stage pregnancy over a turbulent one. What she was most scared of was labor and delivery...alone. So she had hoped to put those fears to rest.

After a half an hour on her feet and waddling for miles, her feet were starting to give, but she was determined to keep going. She'd rest or sit down once she has reached safety. And she was already spending quite some time evading the large swaths of infected, which was difficult between her size and how exhausting being pregnant with twins was. The abandoned suburban homes stretched for miles. Once she made it passed the Saco Police Station, Cassidy saw what was a Military Checkpoint. After all this time? A Checkpoint? That was honestly refreshing to see, but she wasn't expecting a warm reception. After all, Cassidy was showing up fatigued, massively pregnant and armed after weeks of being missing in action. But would the soldiers at the checkpoint recognize her? There was one way to find out...and hopefully she wasn't about to get shot for it. Cassidy took a deep breath and proceeded waddle to the checkpoint, or at least...close enough to not get shot. As a precaution, she also put both of her hands up. "Please, don't shoot. I'm not infected and I'm very pregnant!" She called out.
Inventory: Compound Bow (Attached to her Backpack) | Beretta 92FS (Out of Ammunition, Two Empty Fifteen Round Magazines) | Combat Knife | Canned Soup x3 | Water Canteen | Water Purifier (Last quarter of life) | Bottle of Prenatal Vitamins (Almost empty) | Cardigan Sweater (Folded) | Military Dog Tags | Watch
Worn: Tattered Floral Maternity Midi Dress, Black Leggings, Running Shoes, Backpack & Quiver (10 Arrows)

 

[Lorsh]

The First Scavenging Mission

Bellerose sits back and waits for the departure to the police department. She just need to pickup her EBR.


Before long, Sergeant Noones had made his way to his platoon's housing, and caught up with his LT. Brown. On his way, he stewed in anger about Hodges -- fucker was going to get them all killed. But thinking over the actual meeting, it had been obvious that Lieutenants Mills and Flynn were really calling the shots. 'Hey, can we go do shit while you sit around and jerk off?' 'Sure!' "Lieutenant, we have new orders to secure the police station. Who should I bring out?" Roger asked, quickly adding with veiled derision, "Or will you be leading, sir?"He knew what the answer would be. Dickhead was too high and mighty, this type of op was beneath him. Roger sometimes thought he was a coward, but he had proved himself somewhat capable in the defense of CP Alpha - then again it was different when the enemy wasn't shooting back at you.


"You can pick out a squad," Lieutenant Brown replied. He let go of his pen, and looked up from his desk and smiled. "I haven't heard the end of that Deering Lumber thing. Refugee council, complaining about the damage to their building and all. Anyway, keep an eye out for some good supplies to grab. Good luck, sergeant."


"An unfortunate case of collateral, sir. I'll pick out some of the senior enlisted, and report back on what we can dig up over there. Speak to you soon, Lieutenant," Roger finished, before moving on to pick out his team for this mission. He noticed that the Lieutenant seemed to be in a good mood this morning, and had addressed his second man with markedly more conviviality than the last few times they'd spoke - he'd even wished Roger luck. Well, could it be he was hoping to smooth things over? The two commanders of second platoon had been at each other's necks since the outbreak. More likely he was drunk or high, Roger thought, despite not knowing much about what Brown did in his freetime. Roger at least knew it wasn't fraternizing with his men.

Before long, his squad was prepped, and ran at a jog to the motor pool from their barracks, lugging both full and empty combat bags, the latter intended to be filled with loot the soldiers were hopeful to find. While speaking to the personnel staffing the pool and signing out the three pickups assigned as their transport for the mission, Noones pulled up his radio to report the commencement of yet another operation under his visage. "All units, this is Saco 2, we are on the move to the point of interest. Interrogative; do any units have eyes on the area?" Noones asked as the three trucks peeled out of the motorpool, and headed north out of the Safe Zone over the bridge at CP Alpha. Rolling over the bridge, the signs of the horde's attack were still visible. It was a bumpy ride - many of the rotting bodies had been dragged/shoveled into wheelbarrows and wheeled to large burn-pits just inside the Zone - the stench was fucking unbearable.


Once Noones receives a reply, Bellerose comments about the mission through the radio “this mission is to scavenge for resources. We get in then get out. Leave bulky and heavy items last. Watch out for stragglers and lets keep this operation clean and quiet. We do not want to attract more than whats there. Set clocks to ten hundred. Our ride will attract a lot of attention so be here on time and we will be back for lunch.”


░"Saco 2, this is Saco 1 Actual, while you're at the Police Department. There are a few more buildings nearby that may be of interest. Around the Police Department are a few restaurants. Down the street west of the police department is a gas station. Its a block north from the old Springs Island bridge. If you could bring back extra fuel, then that would be of great help. About another 2 blocks north of the gas station is a large shopping plaza. A bunch of random stores and restaurants are there, but POIs there are a Shaw's Supermarket, a Pediatric Center, and a closed down Ames Department store that was in the middle of a rebuild and probably has a lot of building material and equipment. The shopping plaza may be hot, but if you could scout it out and confirm that it is clear, then we can send a convoy over to pick up supplies. Prioritize everyone's safety, but try to fill up the trunks as much as possible and make the trip worth it. Saco 1 Actual, out."░


Noones listens to Special Agent Bellerose from the backseat, describing their best course of action for handling this mission. She might have been stating the obvious, but it was good to have everyone on the same page - so even the dumbest motherfucker in the platoon (Pvt. Jones) knows what's going on. "Yeah, thanks for the help," Roger murmured as there was no reply from any of the men posted to be keeping lookout, when he requested for a visual sit-rep. He guessed the sentries were too busy fucking off.Opening comms for his platoon, Roger issued orders as the three LSSVs pulled up to the police station. His truck was callsigned 'Alpha.' The other two trucks were callsigned, 'Bravo' and 'Charlie.'"Squad leads, this is Actual, be advised - Alpha will breach and secure while Charlie and Bravo posture defensively. Destroy infected contacts, clear off stragglers. How copy, over?"

Receiving affirmations from the squad leaders in the other trucks, Noones put his plan into action. The Alpha LSSV pulls right up and backs up to the front door, ready for the truck bed to be loaded up. Sergeant First Class Roger Noones, Special Agent Rachel Bellerose, Police Cpl. Harry Lewis, Ptl. Tobias Harder, SPC. Theo Badd and PFC. Frank Jones race out of the truck and storm the place, getting in any way that they can - preferably without setting off the alarms, hopefully the corporal's keys would still work."Move, move!" Roger shouted to his ragtag Alpha squad, stacking up on the front door with his M4 and covering Police Corporal Lewis as he fiddles with the lock. "Stay frosty!"

Roger and his team are successful in gaining entry to the police department, due to Corporal Lewis' having had a key. However, the back entrance had been compromised - there were signs of forceful entry and armory had been broken into. Weapons racks fit to hold shotguns and rifles were cleaned out, as were many of the associated ammunition stores. However, the personal lockers of the officers had been untouched by looters - the policemen accompanying the scavenging team reclaimed their gear from their lockers, while the rest were pried open - a decent haul of various caliber weapons, ammunition and some less-lethal options were the result of the squad's breaking and entering.

As Noones and the rest of Alpha team smashed and grabbed, he listened to a rather lengthy transmission from newly promoted Captain Flynn, his operational commander. His C.O was providing secondary targets for OSP. "Fuck, Sarge, I forgot my pen!" commented Theo Badd with a smirk as Flynn continued suggesting targets over the radio, earning him a stare from his Sergeant -- he was trying to listen to Flynn's transmission. The team had also made an effort to extract and preserve evidence logs and other information databases found within. The local law enforcement's records would be handy in identifying troublemakers, among other uses.Looking around, Roger spotted the restaurants and gas station Flynn had mentioned. "Squad, on me!" he commanded once the equipment scavenged from the police station had been secured.

Directing with verbal commands and hand gestures, he organized Bravo and Charlie teams for looting of Fika's Bakery and the Golden Rooster diner.Alpha team briefly mounted up and moved a couple blocks up the street to loot and siphon gas from the two opposing gas stations on the corner of Storer & Elm. He also recalled that Saco City hall was close down the street to the north. He transmitted to Captain Flynn as he and his men moved to scavenge from the gas stations and restaurants.

"Saco Actual, this is Saco 2, scavenging for food and gas, wilco on the Plaza. I suggest making a visit to city hall too, sir." Roger suggested. He wasn't sure what he expected to find there - papers, records, more of the minutiae which would appeal to the paper pushers back in the Zone. But he was also curious of the fate which befell the seat of the local government.


Bellerose look around the area through her sights to examine the amount of hostiles such as the amount of zombies roaming in the streets, or if any survivors made camp nearby to impose such threat. She did not report in for the normal threats of zombies. She would be second to last man in formation while Noones would be the last.


Down by city hall, past a few flipped cars and smashed sawhorse barriers, it looks like the zombies are swarming. Another failed, ad-hoc, temporary safe zone from the first days of the outbreak. Most of the folks who went there are either skeletons, long picked clean, or are currently shuffling from side to side as part of the horde. The smell of putrescence is thick in the air.


Roger had been first man into the Mobil gas station and cleared right, finding a pile of overturned shelves, smashed coolers, and scattered merchandise. Clearing forward had been PFC Jones, who, after checking his immediate angles, turned a corner to check the back room. Just then, a zombie whose infernal slumber had been disturbed by the scavenging team leapt on the private, closing the distance before Frank could get his rifle up. Emptying his hands, the private let the rifle hang by it's sling around his torso, and threw the infected to the ground with an angry shout. Roger quickly moved to help his private. He threw his rifle around his back, and drew his sidearm - quieter and it's ammo was easy enough to find. Roger sprinted around the clerk's counter to reach the altercation, his Beretta at the ready. Reaching Frank, who had thrown the zombie off of him and to the ground, Noones pinned the freak to the floor with his boot and put it down with a nine-millimeter between the eyes. "Thanks, Sarge," PFC Jones offered.

"Check your sectors!" SFC Noones replied, and the squad continued to clear the building."2, this is Bravo...It's Corporal Payne, I-I've been...scratched by an infected," said the NCO leading one of the three-man teams driving in the other two trucks on radio comms. Noones considered, then replied. He didn't want to terminate the mission because of one casualty, even if it was his second-in-command. He and most of his men were still fit to fight, and the objectives of hitting city hall and the shopping plaza were still yet completed.

"Bravo, this is 2, are you able to facilitate your own evac? Have the rest of your squad transfer to Charlie's truck. SPC Raymond in command. Take your LSSV and get that scratch looked at. Out." Rendezvousing with Rachel and Frank as they loaded their own LSSV with the pickings from Mobil and Nouria, Roger spoke to Rachel, eyeing her scoped weapon.


"Agent Bellerose, can you get a good look at city hall?" Roger asked the enforcement agent, leveling his rifle and inspecting the area which was a couple blocks from the two's current position. Through his ACOG, he could see signs of destruction and shuffling figures. "Doesn't look good."


As she stays scoped in to continue to spot any particular or interested objects “Looks like an abandoned holdout shelter from the start of the outbreak. If its not looted yet we may find some valuables. However be advised there are many meatbags (Rachel's own nickname for zombies) then we can shoot.” As then when she heard a gunshot, we look straight at him leaving the scope “Did someone just shoot?”

A few heads turned. One ghoul outstretched its arms and staggered forward, its mouth hanging agape. "Mrrrghaaghhhrhhgh...!!"Now more of them looked. More began to moan. Most of them were a little bit old and dry, with sunken features and leathery skin. One freshie pushed his way to the front— completely disemboweled, intestines dragging— and began to run towards the squad. One or two more joined him, their bodies badly eaten, yet instilled with the unusual vigor of the recently reanimated. The two ghouls behind the freshie in front had legs that were chewed on, so they were hobbled, slower, but just as vicious."Gotta get the fuck outta here," remarked Officer Harder. He and a few Guards started blasting.

Roger joins his fireteam in opening up on the advancing zeds, watching through his optics as the initial wave is chopped to pieces by 5.56. With that explosion of fire, the rest of the infected grouped up by the city hall begin to shamble their way towards the squad at variable speeds. Though it may have been enough for his squad to handle, especially given Raymond's SAW, Noones decided not to take the chance. There was no valor to be found combating the undead - kill these ones, and the noise would draw double their number to take their place. "Mount up! Fall back to the command post!" Roger shouted to his men, climbing into the bed of 'Alpha' team's pickup and continuing to pick shots at the approaching zombies, while the rest of his squad got into the truck and tore away toward the Safe Zone. He watched as Cpl Payne fled up the road in 'Bravo's' truck, as advised, and Charlie team left with Specialist Raymond in charge followed suit."Once we hit the CP, we turn and burn!" Roger stated briefly to both his squad and Raymond's, explaining his intent to stand and fight once they'd reached the Zone. They had no other choice -- these freaks had to be dealt with.

"Saco ALL, this is Saco 2, loot haul is good, but we've been made by a horde at city hall! Retreating to CP Alpha, they're hot on our tail! Corporal Payne has been wounded, possible infection, she's on her way to Medbay. Need shooters at CP Alpha! Over." This transmission was on ops-level comms, going out to every officer on his platoon's channel (including Lt. Brown, still in command of defense of Alpha).

As the three trucks sped away toward the closest established position of CP Alpha, Roger continued firing from the back of his truck, though eventually ceased fire once his targets were too far away to hit accurately from a moving vehicle.Having reached the checkpoint at CP Alpha, Roger ordered his squad to take a stand.

"Dismount, and get ready! Weapons free, but don't waste your ammo!"


“Noones…!” She shouts for him “Get two to start offloading the truck... and someone get Payne to medbay.” Rachel then switches her frequency to connect with her ops transmission “All units be advised. Level 3 alert has been activated. Expected POC is CP Alpha. Repeat. Expected POC is CP Alpha.” Rachel calmly hops off and assess the situation and position she is at


It helped that he had many targets and a wide margin for error, but Roger was impressed with himself for his accuracy from the back of the moving utility vehicle. He watched through his sights with satisfaction as he brought down half-a-dozen with his rifle by the time his squad had reached CP Alpha. Leaping from the bed of the truck once they'd stopped, Roger joined his team in setting up a kill zone. "We can worry about securing the loot after we're clear! Payne's on her way!" Roger shouted over the din of the shooting.

Before long, they were clear. "Woo!" Roger cheered as the last shambling creature fell by the guns of his team. "Nice shootin', boys! Everybody good!? Hold position, we're waiting for relief. Could be more coming," Roger congratulated his men, looking over his shoulder. He expected Lt. Brown to be rocking up with the rest of the unit shortly -- already, some of Sgt. Noones' platoonmates had answered the call for reinforcements.

"This is Saco 2, we're clear here at Alpha. Going to need to offload, resupply and reinforce before we head back out to the mall."

That said, Roger waited for relief from the other men of his platoon whom hadn't come on the scavenging mission, before splitting from his squad momentarily. They were instructed to head over to the stores and armory to offload the supplies gathered at the police station, gas stations and resteraunts, while Roger went on-foot to the medbay to catch up with Corporal Payne.She was a good woman, great soldier, solid leader. He hoped her wounds were superficial, or that the doctors had been quick enough to disinfect it...but it was hopeful thinking. In the back of his mind, he knew what the scratch probably meant for Erin -- it broke his heart, to lose another of his soldiers.

Arriving at medbay and putting out a Lucky Strike, Roger was short and direct with the staff. "Erin -- where is she? How is she?"


Along with Noones, Rachel follows him to the medbay just to see how things going before returning to her original post in S3 Operations Command.


The call came in and quickly it had been filtered down to the staff on call. Ionut squatted down, watching Hattie assess Private Colms' shoulder. He had come in thinking he had broke his arm, the appendage a limp noodle at the moment. Doctor Albescu however could identify as a dislocated shoulder, an easy enough fix. With great effort Colms could move it but not enough to lift or fire his gun which had robbed him of the opportunity to go on the latest incursion. And so he was left in the 'capable' hands of the Dentist.


"We just pop it back in, right? I saw it in a TV show once, one person pulls on the arm and the other wraps a blanket around their ribs and pulls from the other side," Hattie suggested as she examined the shoulder... Her religious devotion to medical dramas was seemingly coming in handy. She had a rudimentary knowledge of some medical things, though she certainly couldn't exactly be trusted in a surgery.


"Doctor! Doctor!" Ionut turned his head to the oncoming nurse "We have a emergency case incoming. A corporal has been scratched by an infected. Point of injury is believed to be on the wrist." Her tone darkened "Possible infection."

Ionut grew pale, his skin turning clammy. "Is Doctor Hadley around?" John asked, his voice meek.

She shook her head. The dentist could feel his heart beat faster. The only real treatment was amputation but that could put the patient into shock, increasing the blood flow to the artery in the wrist, causing massive blood loss. 'John' flashbacked to his butchery of Frechette. And then death. His breathing became rapid. The nurse spoke again, haste in her voice. "What should we do, Doctor?"


As the nurse rushed over, Hattie looked to Ionut. She knew what answer she was expecting: Amputation... but Ionut hesitated. The two hadn't exactly spoken after the rebellion, but she could feel something was... off. She felt a pit in her stomach. "We should at least try to do something. Can't we cut it off?" She murmured. If they leave her alone, she dies no matter what. If they amputated, they at least had a chance of saving her. There was an awkward silence as the nurse waited for Ionut's response. The tension in the air was thick as she eventually accepted his response and left... Hattie glanced at Ionut. This guy was one of the only people she knew, as much as she wanted to scold him for not doing more, she didn't want to lose him as a companion. She turned back to their current patient."

Do we have enough pain meds or are we just gonna..." She began, but wasn't sure how to phrase it without freaking him out. Pop that shit back in without 'em and hope he doesn't crack any teeth?


The Dentist looked at her, his pupils dim. She wanted him to make the call, one he was unwilling to make. "Let's wait and see," he answered, his mouth dry. "Put them away from the others until we can make a better assessment."

The nurse looked at him and blinked. Ionut offered a small smile, lined with desperation. He wanted this conversation to end. The nurse lingered for a moment, as if thinking or perhaps waiting for John to change his mind.... But he didn't, the Dentist turning back to Samca so she reluctantly went off.


Doctor Cael Burton takes charge of the Corporal's treatment. He left the wound as-is, since it was treated via IFAK by her squad... after ten minutes of observation, Dr. Burton took note of the blackening of the veins around the wound. He called for an amputation, just below the left forearm, and the operation was carried out by himself and nurses Gallagher, Chloe Porter, and Autumn Flynn. The infected area was removed and stump bandaged. Cael decided to keep her under observation in a separate wing of the medbay, then went to wash up after asking Mr. Mercer, a FEMA member, to take a shotgun and guard the area.

Nurse Flynn showed Sergeant Noones and Agent Bellerose over to the seclusion ward where Payne was being kept. She was still unconscious, hooked up to tubes and whatnot, breathing softly. Overall, she didn't look like she was doing too hot. "Make sure you've got a mask on," advised Mr. Mercer as he sat on a foldout chair, cradling his Remington police magnum shotgun. He wore an N95 respirator and a fireman-style orange hardhat emblazoned with the FEMA logo as he supervised the patient.


Seclusion ward. It was getting harder to believe the lie Noones had been telling himself, that Payne's wounds may not have been so severe, that she may not have been infected.He had split the team to cover as much ground as possible. They had only numbered nine soldiers and officers - and outside the zone where danger lurked in every corner, every second counted.If whether or not his detachment had moved as one would have saved Erin's arm, Roger could not know. But nevertheless he couldn't help but blame himself. Surely if he'd been there, Erin would've been fine?Roger looked bleakly at the maimed Corporal, at a loss for words. Agent Bellerose wasn't exactly the person he'd prefer to see him so vulnerable, but seeing Corporal Payne in this way, which he thought was his fault, left him with little choice. "Fuckin' psychos," Sergeant Noones murmured under his breath with venom, referring to the infected. Looking down with a reddened face, he grimaced - suppressing his despair. Payne. Hawke. Schuwer. The other men the memory of whom he tried to forget. How many more would pay ultimate prices while under his command? 'It is what it is. This is the world we live in. She knew the risks.'


Bellerose watched Noones as he muttered under his breath, the weight of his decisions etched deeply into his hardened features. She had seen this kind of guilt before – a familiar, crushing burden she had first recognized while stationed as Air Force Security during Operation Iraqi Freedom. She had observed it in the eyes of officers who had made hard calls under fire, their mistakes measured in body bags and fractured minds. But this was different. This was the raw, disorienting weight of a leader’s first true misstep – a mistake made under the crushing pressure of survival, not strategy.

War was chaos. It had always been that way. Plans, no matter how meticulously crafted, rarely survived first contact. The enemy was never predictable, and the battlefield never static. In this world, where the infected surged like a force of nature, unpredictability had become the only certainty. Then scavenging was its own kind of warfare, a grim, high-stakes dance with the dead. It demanded a different mindset – one that balanced caution and desperation on a razor’s edge. One thing was clear – Bellerose had reminded every one of them what was needed to get back home safe and sound before their arrival at the PD. Stick to the objectives. Don’t overextend. Assess the risks. Secure only what was necessary. She had drilled this into their heads because, in this world, overconfidence was as deadly as a bullet, and every small misstep had the potential to spiral into a full-blown catastrophe.

But this, she realized, went deeper than just a bad call or a stroke of misfortune. Noones had pushed his team beyond what the original mission demanded. The orders had been clear – a quick, efficient sweep, just enough to restock their meager supplies and pull back before the infected could surround them when attracted. But Noones, perhaps driven by a mix of duty, ego, and inexperience, had pushed for more. It was a common enough mistake – the kind a fresh leader made when they believed they could wrestle control back from chaos, when they thought they could stretch their luck just a little further. She had seen it before – the raw ambition, the overestimation of their reach. It was a hard lesson, and one that Noones, despite his hardened experience as a soldier, was now paying for in blood and flesh – the shattered arm of Corporal Payne, the hollow stares of his surviving squadmates.

Bellerose’s eyes narrowed as she considered the silent, grim figure before her. This was a lesson written in pain and regret, one that had claimed the lives of countless soldiers long before the world had fallen to pieces. She hoped, for the sake of those still under his command, that Noones would remember it. Because in a war like this, there was no room for the arrogance of certainty – only the cold, brutal truth that every mistake had a price.


~

BloodLightning27

"Hey, miss! Stop right there, okay?" called out a National Guardsman clad in helmet, goggles and medical mask as he briefly, nervously held his M16 at the woman, but he was relatively quick to lower it. His partner was quick to follow suit. Wasn't a good look; you could really tell this chick was pregnant. Though, it did bring to mind some gnarly imagery when he imagined the possibility of her being infected.

"Just don't make any sudden movements, alright?" called the soldier as he unlocked and unwrapped the padlocked chain holding the chainlink gate shut.




~


Meanwhile...

Doctor Burton returned to do some postsurgical care and general wound treatment. He checked the stitches and gave her some antibiotic cream around the stump. "Make take a bit for her to get up and be cognizant. Don't worry, we'll be keeping an eye on her," he assured Noones and the tagalong federale. "You're lucky that she was so close to the safe-zone, might not have made it, otherwise..." He stood up from Payne and swapped out her IV bag.

"Hey!" Private Stratychuk suddenly appeared to relay some information to his platoon sergeant. "Some bitch just showed up at Alpha. She's pregnant, he claimed.Cael looked at him incredulously. "Wasn't there a horde out there?"

The private shrugged.

The doctor thought about it a bit. "If anything, it was a good idea to show herself after Noones and his men cut most of them down. I can handle things here if you want to go take care of that straggler, sergeant," offered Dr. Burton.

 

[kirilla]

The wind carried a faint staleness from the outer perimeter — the kind that clung to corpses even days after they’d dropped. Outside the gate, the ground was strewn with bodies. Infected. Dead where they’d been dropped by rifle fire or blade. Their stillness was the only comfort they offered.


Rachel stood just inside the barricade, arms crossed, eyes sharp. The checkpoint ahead buzzed with faint radio chatter and tension. She didn't carry her weapon this time. There was no need to escalate things that hadn't even started. Not yet.


Beside her stood Sergeant Noones, silent. They were both here for the same reason — to assess a stranger and decide if she was a threat.


The woman outside the wire was visibly pregnant, filthy, and alone. Her steps were slow, her face pale. A backpack hung off her shoulders like a burden heavier than just supplies. Rachel noted the signs: fatigue, but no stumbling. Sweat, but no erratic movement. She wasn’t acting infected — but too many things could be hidden under sleeves, inside shoes, behind forced calm.


Rachel didn’t approach the gate directly. Instead, her attention shifted to the soldiers stationed at the post.


“What’ve you seen?” she asked, her voice low and firm. “Movement, condition, anything off?”


She kept her posture relaxed, but alert. She didn’t trust easily — not with strangers, not with people arriving from the wild, and certainly not in a world where a bite could turn kindness into death.


Rachel had seen this before — the worn-out wanderers who showed up desperate for shelter. Some told the truth. Some didn’t even know they were lying until it was too late.


This wasn’t the first hard call she'd faced. But each one mattered. Inside that fence was stability. Out here was everything that threatened it.


She kept her eyes on the pregnant woman, waiting for the report. No assumptions. Just observation. The gate didn’t open for stories. It opened when it was safe.


And Rachel wasn’t convinced. Not yet.

Once the guard replies to rachel about what they observed, Rachel said quietly to Noones, not looking away from the woman outside. "Your call"

 

[Lord Bradorian]

"Yup," was all Roger stated in reply to Doctor Burton and Private Stratychuk. He wasn't feeling very talkative, but dutifully took up his carbine and helmet, which he'd placed down while having visited the injured Corporal Payne.

It was a short walk from Medbay to CP Alpha, accompanied by Agent Bellerose and PFC. Straychuk. Arriving, he and the Fed took a good long look at the woman.

Roger immediately had doubts that someone in her condition had survived on her own - either she was a badass, or baby daddy had sent her in as a spy. Easy to take pity on a pregnant woman, after all.

"Well, let's see," Roger replied to Rachel as she obligingly offered the final say on what they were going to do about this lady. Despite his doubts, he couldn't help but pity the woman and the child she clearly carried with her; the thought of bringing a new life into this fucked up world sickened him. But if it was going to happen anywhere, it'd be here, where there was atleast a resemblance of safety.

"Hi, miss. Sergeant Roger Noones, Maine National Guard, Special Agent Rachel Bellerose, F.B.I. This here is the Saco River Safe Zone," Roger explained to the stranger as she unsteadily navigated her way through the score of corpses cluttering the northern bridge. The Guardsmen who'd been posted when she arrived didn't report any obvious signs of infection or malice, but you could never be too trusting.

"Drop your bag, bow, and anything else of concern you've got. You'll be frisked for weapons and wounds, so best be honest about them now..." Roger said, adhering to typical protocols, before his humanity edged him to add, "How did you make it here? Who are you, where are your friends?"

Again, he could seldom believe a pregnant woman had made it this far and survived this long all on her own. He eyed the straggler with contrasting suspicion and commiseration, nervously adjusting his plate carrier as he waited for her to reply.

Can't turn her away, she's about to have a kid, Roger thought to himself, but his responsibility to protect the zone necessitated his strictness.​

BloodLightning27 kirilla Lorsh

 

[BloodLightning27]

~Sgt. Cassidy Dakota Maddox~

Pregnancy Tracker

Pregnancy Progression: 36/42 Weeks

Countdown to Labor & Delivery: 252/294 Days

Weight Gain: 192/200 Lbs

Delivery Window: July 10th

Health: 75/100

Stamina: 50/100

Medical Supplies: |Maternal Status: Fatigued
Supplies Remaining: Prenatal Vitamins |Clean Water | Pain Relief
Checkpoint AlphaBefore long, Cassidy found herself on the receiving end of M16s, which made her heart skip a beat. One of the Soldiers guarding the checkpoint, called for her to stop and not make any sudden movements. So she only kept her hands up and visible. Anything to reduce chances of her getting shot. As she looked around her, scanning the immediate area, she took in the amount of decaying corpses...filled with bullet holes. What the hell happened here, she thought. As she looked directly back in front of her, she saw that one of the soldiers was unwrapping a chainlink gate. To keep herself calm, Cassidy took a few deep breaths, which felt rather awful due to the smell of rotting corpses. She wanted to puke, but couldn't. But she couldn't really hold her breath either. Finally, the gate cracked open. And two people stepped out and started walking towards her. She took another deep breath. The man, armed with a Carbine, introduced himself as Sergeant Roger Noones and his partner, Special Agent Rachel Bellarose from the F.B.I. If the Military and the FBI were both in one place...it's really going to hell out here. But now, she was looking towards safety...or death.

She was then asked to hand off her bag, bow and anything else 'of concern' on her person. Reluctantly, she took off her backpack, which her quiver was attached to along with the bow since it wasn't in use. On the straps of the backpack included a Combat Knife and her holstered Beretta 92FS since she had no comfortable way to carry them on her person. After handing off her backpack, Cassidy was ready to be frisked. "No other weapons. And just a few cuts and bruises because I spent a lot of time in the woods and the remote areas. No bites or scratches. And I'm running a little hot because being very pregnant increases my blood volume, my hormones are out of whack and my metabolism is through the roof." She answered bluntly.

When asked how she made it to the Safe Zone, Cassidy only looked down at her swollen belly, before looking at Sergeant Noones. "There's been a lot of gunfire over the last week, so...I kinda followed it, hoping to...finally make contact with other survivors...because that's better then trying to give birth alone. And no...I'm not in labor yet. I'm just...humongous and exhausted." And finally, it came time to identify herself. "Sergeant Cassidy Dakota Maddox, US Army, 42nd Military Police Brigade...Or I was. Thought I was better off on my own because I learned that I was declared M.I.A...but clearly I was wrong."

Finally, friends... "I know it's impossible to believe...but I've been on my own...since April. I was on Maternity Leave during the initial outbreak and thought that it was over when society started falling apart, so I struck out on my own...Big mistake, I know."
Inventory: Compound Bow (Attached to her Backpack) | Beretta 92FS (Out of Ammunition, Two Empty Fifteen Round Magazines) | Combat Knife | Canned Soup x3 | Water Canteen | Water Purifier (Last quarter of life) | Bottle of Prenatal Vitamins (Almost empty) | Cardigan Sweater (Folded) | Military Dog Tags | Watch
Worn: Tattered Floral Maternity Midi Dress, Black Leggings, Running Shoes, Backpack & Quiver (10 Arrows)

Lord Bradorian Lorsh kirilla