Chapter 120: Military Post Under Attack

Engines hummed loudly in the military post deep in the night. Army Soldiers and Conscripts stationed behind the fences, overlooking the dark horizon where they once were.

The remaining floodlights flashed brightly beyond the highway; anything that came through would be blinded by the intensity.

Machine gunners placed their M249 SAWs atop the watch towers; sniper teams an arm’s distance beside them, providing additional cover.

On the ground, the Conscripts and Army Soldiers formed a tight line formation behind the sandbags.

The Vanguard MBTs positioned in front. Their turrets faced where any enemy might come from, ready for an assault.

“Commander, defenses are in place,” Matilda, previously Delta One, patched in through the comms. “Overwatch shift has been assigned. Awaiting further orders.”

“Keep an eye out,” Hans replied. “What’s the situation about the recovered hostages?”

“Severa trauma and PTSD,” Matilda’s voice turned cold. “It will be months before these people recover.”

“At least their treatment has started. Has the leader been found?”

“Died like a coward in the watchtowers. Death was an easy way out for him.”

“Indeed,” Hans nodded. “I have heard enough for tonight. Command is given to you and the other DASFs. Dmitri and Adrian will be second.”

“Understood, Commander. Fairy, out.”

Hans dropped his comms, the furrow on his brows not once easing back into place. In front of him, the zoomed Radar map blipped once.

West of their position, a large cluster of red dots headed their way.

Some moved faster than the rest. A few lagged behind—too far from the center of the horde, as if something weighed them down.

Hans looked around the command room inside the main office building.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, their sickly glow washing over the wreckage.

Files and folders flooded out of the overturned cabinets; the floor littered with cardboard, paper, and plastic.

Bullet holes punched on the walls, scarring what were once beautiful, plastered decorations.

Behind the broken window, torn curtains snapped violently as cold night air rushed in.

“Ah, what a shame,” Hans muttered while stepping over shards of glass.

Callum stood in one corner, his eyes never leaving the two entrances.

Johannes and Yunera went outside, attending to the hostages.

Kimmy remained within, much to Hans’s surprise.

“It’s a rare sight to see you alone without Yunera,” he glanced over.

“It was my wish to remain here with you,” she replied bluntly; her head never turning towards Hans.

“Feels like a deja vu,” Hans recalled that one night. “You have a troubled look in your face. Say it.”

“Is your bodyguard… trustworthy?” Kimmy paused.

Hans rolled his eyes upon the sight of Callum’s extreme behavior. “You can ignore him. Spill it out. Don’t make me wait.”

“The tremors,” she looked at him, “you feel them, do you not?”

Hans caught interest from her words. “It’s a large horde indeed. Your sensory powers seemed to have increased in potency.”

“A result of my short-lived training,” Kimmy lowered her head, still unable to meet him eye-to-eye.

Hans’s aura was resplendent as ever, almost reaching to the heavens. Even the once mighty Callum looked pale compared to Hans right now.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he put out a subtle smile. “A short training resulted to a huge improvement. We can only imagine what a prolonged session would be.”

“You shifted the topic away,” Kimmy retorted. “You said you can feel them too. You are no simple superhuman.”

“I never said I was,” Hans answered vaguely. “Since you can sense them from far away…” he paused, “what are the chances my soldiers will win?”

Kimmy angled her face. “Do I even have to spell that out?”

“You place great emphasis to my army,” Hans smirked.

“They are mysterious. If another took of my place, they surely would have the same conclusion.”

“Very well then,” Hans clapped once then rubbed his hands together. “The party is about to start. Care to join me in observing the art of warfare?”

His right hand extended to hers.

“What choice do I have but to oblige?”

Despite her reluctance, she stood up and approached Hans, her figure beside his.

Hans shifted his attention into the battlefield to the west, muscles tensing as the fastest red dot closed in.

…

Zolyah peeked over her magnified scope. Black and white thermal view filled her vision.

The crosshair locked on the western highway with heightened vigilance. As it centered slightly north, a blob of heat signature appeared.

“This is Eagle One, all units copy,” she spoke to the comms. “We got contact, west. One o’clock!”

“Delta One copies. Confirm your sightlines, Big Rhino,” Matilda added.

The Vanguard’s turret swiveled fast with a low mechanical hum. The gunner leaned near the thermal vision screen.

“Big Rhino confirms. Erratic movements and inhuman posture.”

“That’s a zombie alright,” Zolyah interjected. “Delta One, Eagle One is requesting open fire.”

“Copy, Eagle One. Weapons free.”

Zolyah exhaled.

Bang!

The figure jerked backward. Then exploded into fragments. Limbs rained into the ground. The splattered dark blood quenched the thirst of the dry green grass.

Smoke drifted out of the Barret like a snake that just claimed the life of its prey.

“Zed neutralized—” She paused. “—No wait!”

Zolyah adjusted her scope upward.

Her breathing halted for a moment; her eyes enlarged at the sight.

The tree line wasn’t dark anymore—it glowed. Hundreds of heat signatures overlapped, pushing forward in a rolling mass.

Layer upon layer, they showed themselves as far as her magnification could reach.

Most didn’t sprint. They were merely drawn by something, relentless in their pursuit.

“Large horde, direction—west!”

Big Rhino’s turret swiveled into action again; the optics captured the horde in a more detail than Zolyah’s did.

At the same time, a red bloom expanded on the tank’s Radar screen—data fed from their Commander. From Hans.

Inside the command room, Hans watched the same cluster spread across his five-kilometer grid. He didn’t speak.

He simply ordered his units to allow confirmation through visual contact.

Johannes and the others were present; revealing their collective unity would invite questions.

Across the compound, every system-linked unit received updated targeting data.

“Delta One,” Big Rhino radioed. “Horde on our western flank. Confirming Eagle One’s sights, over.”

“Roger that, Big Rhino.”

Matilda stood alone in a rooftop somewhere in the center of the military post. Her eyes stared at her helmet’s HUD, receiving the same feed from her Commander’s.

With a twist on her comms, her voice patched into every channel.

“All units, be advised. Horde situation on our western flank. Threat level raised to two. Stationed units are weapons free. Stay frosty in your sectors. Good hunting. Delta One, out.”

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