For the next few days, preparations moved into full swing. Two priorities guided everything they did: dealing with the horde of walkers and retrieving shipping containers to fortify the resort.
The first step was addressing the scientists. Andrew, Price, and his team gathered with Dr. Edwin and Candace Jenner, along the handful of researchers still clinging to their work at the CDC.
When Andrew outlined the plan of evacuating the building, luring the horde inside, and destroying the facility—the reaction was immediate. Protests erupted.
"With enough time, we could find a vaccine!" one of the researchers insisted, voice raw with desperation.
Candace shook her head fiercely. "This is premature. We cannot abandon the research. Not now."
But the protests died when Andrew and Price laid it out plainly: the CDC couldn't be sustained. Supplies were dwindling. The generators couldn't run forever. Staying meant death—for everyone.
A compromise was struck. Dr. Jenner, reluctant but pragmatic, mentioned one option: "There's a mobile laboratory that hasn't been deployed. If we can use it to continue the research outside the CDC."
That was enough. Plans shifted. Civilians and police officers were evacuated to the resort. The National Guard soldiers remained to help strip the CDC of anything usable, loading trucks with equipment, supplies. While the mobile laboratory is being loaded with the necessary materials and equipment for future research.
Price, Andrew, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz oversaw the process, reviewing the tactical plan one more time.
"We'll open the blockade," Andrew began, pointing to the map spread on the hood of a Humvee. "Once there's a gap, we'll pull the horde through with a cruiser's sirens. Draw them straight to the CDC. From there, the building's PA system will take over, max volume, every speaker blaring. That should funnel them inside."
"Right," Soap muttered, tapping his finger against the marked exits. "Before the dead pour in, the lads inside makin' sure the place goes up, will leg it to the roof for a helo evac."
"The evac being the tricky part," Ghost added. His tone was flat, but his masked face turned toward Andrew. "Roof evac only works if we've got a bird ready to lift us. Recon better find us something that flies, or we're the ones getting roasted."
"Teams are already out searching for a functional helicopter," Andrew assured him. "If they come up empty, we'll adjust. But right now, that's our best shot."
They moved on to discuss the armor. Two tanks remained in working order—one stationed in front of the CDC, the other at the edge of the perimeter.
Andrew frowned. "Against walkers, they won't mean much. Tanks are wasted on crowds of dead. But against the living? That's a different story. There are other threats out there—and we'd be idiots not to account for them."
Price gave a low grunt of agreement. "He's right. World's gone to hell, and without law to keep men honest, some'll start showing their teeth. People like that won't hesitate to take what we've built." He leaned forward, voice gravelly. "That's when steel and firepower speak louder than reason."
Soap smirked, though his tone was sharp. "Aye. Strip away the uniforms and the rules, and you'll see folk show their true colors. Some of them'll love the chaos, thrive in it. They'll come armed, and they'll come hungry."
Gaz exhaled through his nose, eyes scanning the map. "And they won't think twice about hitting civilians if it gets them what they want. Tanks may not stop the dead—but they'll stop raiders, looters, anyone who thinks they can roll over us. Best keep 'em fueled and ready."
Ghost's head tilted slightly, his voice calm and cold. "Then we remind them they're not the only predators left standing."
There was a beat of silence. Then Price gave a single nod. "More firepower, the better. We'll keep the tanks. The Walkers won't be our only problem in the future."
.....
Hours later, the courtyard of the CDC was alive with motion. Trucks were being filled to the brim—crates of medical supplies, boxes of rations, fuel cans, even lab equipment strapped down under tarps. National Guard soldiers barked orders as they worked, their uniforms darkened with sweat and grime.
Andrew and Gaz oversaw the inventory, checking what was loaded. Ghost was patrolling the perimeter along other soldiers like a watchful sentinel's. Soap lent his voice to the noise, hollering for men to "quit dawdlin'" and secure their loads properly. Price, as always, kept to the bigger picture, his sharp eyes scanning for any problems.
Near the front of the building, two M1 Abrams tanks sat like sleeping giants. Mechanics clambered over them, fueled lines running, hatches clanking shut. The crews who'd once been scattered among the Guard had been pulled back to their machines, reacquainting themselves with the familiar rumble of armored steel as the tanks would be rolling out with the convoy.
As the last crates were strapped down and the diesel fumes of the tanks thickened the air, Andrew stepped up beside Price. "That's everything. We're ready to move."
Before Price could answer, the comms operator inside one of the Humvees raised his hand, headset pressed tight. "Incoming transmission."
A crackle of static filled the vehicle before Major Griggs' voice came through, steady and deliberate.
"Away team, this is Ironwood Actual. We've got good news. Recon found a helicopter—looks to be on the rooftop of an intact hospital. There's something else too . But the details'll have to wait until you're back at the FOB. Over."
Price glanced at Andrew, a ghost of a smirk under his mustache. "There's your bird. Looks like your plan just grew wings."
.....
It was early evening when the convoy rumbled back into the resort now named Fort Ironwood. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in streaks of amber and crimson as the first shadows stretched across the ground. Major Griggs stood just inside the main gates, hands on his hips, waiting for them.
A wide grin broke across his face as the two Abrams tanks rolled in with the column, their engines growling like beasts at rest. The civilians that were in the area fell silent for a moment, watching in awe as the armored giants passed. Whispers spread quickly through the crowd—some gasps, some relieved laughter. The sight of the tanks lifted their moral even more than it already was.
When the vehicles came to a halt, engines quieting one by one, the atmosphere shifted into busy purpose. Civilians and soldiers alike hurried forward, ready to unload supplies, passing crates hand to hand in a practiced rhythm.
Andrew, Price, Soap, Gaz and Ghost climbed down from their vehicles, exhaustion clinging to their movements though none of them showed it openly. Across the courtyard, Griggs strode forward, his grin tempered but still present.
They met halfway. Price took his cigar from his mouth , rolling it between his fingers. "So," he said in his low, gravelly voice, "what've you got for us?"
Griggs gave a firm nod. "As I mentioned earlier, we found a helicopter. Recon located it on the rooftop of a hospital—one of the few that wasn't hit in the bombings, Grady Memorial Hospital. From the looks of it, it's intact." He paused, his tone turning more cautious. "The team reported walker numbers in the area were surprisingly light. But just as they got close to the perimeter, they spotted movement inside. Couldn't get a clean vantage point, so we don't have much information. Ordered them to mentain watch over the area"
Andrew paused, chewing the end of the thought over in his head.'Grady Memorial Hospital' that had to be the hospital — the one with the police officers and patients he'd half-remembered from the show. If they could take control of the building and its medical facilities, it would be a huge boon: sterile rooms, medicines, a functioning rooftop for evac, maybe even space to runJenner's mobile lab.
But it wouldn't be without complications. If his memory served him right, those officers hadn't been quiet sheep — they'd been the type to throw their weight around, to treat patients and staff however they liked. That meant taking the place might be more of a negotiation with people who thought they were in charge.
He folded that into the plan , they could approach with a mix of force and diplomacy; make it clear we wanted the hospital intact and the people safe, but that we weren't taking kindly to those thinking that they can do whatever they want because they believe they have authority. If the cops fall in line as would be expected, securing the hospital would be straightforward. If they didn't, Andrew thought, they'd have to be handled—carefully, but firmly.
Price noticed Andrew being quiet. "Any ideas, Lieutenant?" he asked, voice low and steady.
Andrew blinked, then nodded, pushing the thought into words. "I suggest taking two Ranger squads with us. Check the hospital, secure the building, retrieve the helicopter. If we run into people, we either deter them with superior numbers or deal with them accordingly. Minimal fuss, minimum damage to the facility. Having the hospital under our control would be a huge boon."
Soap snorted, leaning on the hood of a Humvee. "Aye, that's the ticket. No dawdlin', no heroics. We show force quick, make it clear we ain't here to barter for scraps." His grin was half-warning, half-encouragement.
Gaz rubbed his chin, practical as ever. "Keep it surgical. Rangers lead the approach, a suppression element on standby, and a smaller link-up team moving in from a different side of the building .
Ghost said nothing; he simply watched Andrew with that unreadable tilt of his head, the kind of silence that weighed heavier than words.
Price considered for a short beat, then gave a slow, approving nod. "All right. I'll speak to Nikolai — best pilot i know, and quick with those rooftop drops. If he's green to go, we'll have our lift." He glanced around at the crews already priming the tanks. "We move sharp and smart."
Griggs let out a short breath and stepped forward. "No one leaves tonight," he said, voice clipped. "It's getting dark and that makes every angle a risk. Recon's eyes are on the hospital; they'll radio if anything changes. You depart tomorrow at first light."
No one argued. The plan for the hospital and helicopter was set, and with the daylight fading, there was nothing more to be gained from pushing. The group naturally shifted back into the practical matters at hand.
Price gestured toward the Abrams parked near the motor pool, still rumbling softly as crews finished their checks. "Those two beasts'll drink more fuel than they're worth if we're not careful."
Gaz nodded. "True, but their presence alone's worth it. Anyone thinking about testing the fences'll think twice if they see armor parked by the gate."
That was agreed upon without fuss, and the conversation turned to manpower. Of the National Guard contingent that was stationed at the CDC, thirty-five soldiers had returned with the convoy. It wasn't much, but in this world, thirty-five trained rifles meant a fighting chance.
"They'll be folded under my command," Griggs confirmed. "Defenses, patrols, supplies gathering and any ops outside the wire. With Andrew here dealing with the civilian and administrative side of things. That keeps Price and his team free to handle high-risk objectives. Everyone knows their lane."
Orders were issued quickly after. The national guard soldiers were told to hand over their uniforms for cleaning and repair. In the meantime, they wore whatever civilian clothes could be spared. Adding the need for spare uniforms on the list of supplies needed, for when there will be the next supply run.
As night fell, Fort Ironwood shifted into a different rhythm. Floodlights lighted different locations around the hotel. Patrols moved in pairs with rifles slung at the ready, boots crunching on gravel, their voices low as they called in routine reports over the radios.
The mess hall was filled with civilians and soldiers alike, sharing mealscooked by volunteers in the kitchen. The smell of food mixed with the metallic tang of gun oil and diesel drifting in from outside. Soap cracked a joke at one table, drawing a few laughs that sounded more tired than cheerful, but laughter all the same.
Upstairs, two hotel floors had been repurposed into barracks , where most of the soldiers slept. Soldiers gathered together cleaned their weapons and quietly trading stories or simply sitting in silence.
The remaining floors being assigned to the civilians .
When the meal was over, the resort dimmed. Lights both inside and outside were turned down to avoid attracting walkers, and lanterns flickered faintly in hallways, police officer's patrolling before going to sleep themselves. People drifted to their rooms or watch posts.
.....
The morning came , the first hints of sunlight barely cutting through the trees. The compound was already awake, alive with the rhythm of soldiers moving with efficiency.
In front of the main gate, three JLTVs rumbled idle, their engines growling low, exhaust plumes curling into the cool air. The convoy was set in a tight column: the lead and rear vehicles fitted with mounted .50 caliber machine guns, the middle one unarmed but carrying extra supplies. The positioning was deliberate—teeth at the front and back, protection in the middle.
Andrew stood by the lead vehicle, helmet clipped to his vest, first Ranger squad clustered around him. Each man checked their gear with the silent, steady calm of professionals: weapons racked and inspected, magazines tapped and stowed, comms tested with curt words. The thud of boots and the metallic clink of gear filled the air. Andrew ran one last check of the map folded in his hand before climbing into the passenger seat.
Behind them, the second JLTV was packed with the second Ranger squad, men sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, rifles between their knees.
The rear vehicle stood ready with Gaz as turret gunner, scanning the horizon, hands resting casually on the grips of the .50 cal as if it were an extension of himself. Inside, Price sat at the front in the passenger seat, calm and collected, a cigar unlit but clenched between his teeth. Soap was restless in the driver seat, cracking jokes, while Ghost sat back in the corner, silent and still, mask expressionless as always.
Wedged among them was Nikolai, a broad grin on his face despite the early hour. He had already been briefed, and his easy confidence brought a strange calm to the cramped vehicle. The pilot hummed to himself, fingers drumming on his thigh as though itching to get behind the stick of a helicopter again.
At the gate, civilians gathered in small clusters to watch the departure.
Major Griggs oversaw the send-off, arms folded across his chest. "Keep your comms tight," he ordered flatly. "We've got eyes on the hospital perimeter. If anything changes, you'll know. Otherwise—get back in one piece."
Andrew gave a short nod. "Copy that."
The gate creaked open. Beyond it, the road stretched empty.
Engines revved, tires crunched over gravel, and the convoy rolled forward. The lead JLTV surged through the gate, Andrew's squad inside, scanning every angle as they took point. The second followed tight behind, armored shell bristling with Rangers. The rear brought up the column, Price's eyes already fixed on the horizon.
The gates shut behind them with a final slam.
The convoy drove at asteady pace, the JLTVs keeping tight formation as they rolled down the cracked asphalt. Morning haze hung low over the treetops, softening the ruined skyline of Atlanta in the distance. For now, the world was quiet — too quiet, Andrew thought, the kind of quiet that never lasted long.
They didn't take the most direct route. The city center, with its collapsed intersections and walker-choked avenues, was suicide. Instead, the convoy skirted around the outskirts, using backroads that wound through industrial zones and strips of abandoned suburbs. Old billboards leaned crooked above the road, their faded smiles for soda or insurance companies a cruel reminder of the world that used to be.
Every mile carried its own obstacles. Cars were scattered across the roads, some abandoned in panic, others crashed headlong into each other. The lead JLTV slowed to a crawl as they approached a cluster of vehicles blocking the path. Andrew hopped down with two Rangers, directing hand signals as they moved. The armored truck's engine growled low while the men shouldered aside a compact sedan, pushing it far enough to carve a narrow lane.
Then movement stirred nearby. A walker dragged itself from behind a delivery van, its face slack and mottled with rot. Andrew gestured silently, and one Ranger stepped forward, swinging a hatchet with practiced precision. The wet crack split the morning stillness, and the corpse slumped to the pavement. They dragged it aside without a word, clearing the way for the convoy.
Soap leaned half out of the window of the rear JLTV, watching the treeline. "Bloody grim, this. Like drivin' through a graveyard that forgot to stay put." His words carried over the comms, laced with his usual black humor.
Gaz, eyes fixed on his sector, muttered back, "Keep your eyes open. Graveyards tend to bite in this city."
As they pushed deeper toward the hospital, the roads shifted. Suburban sprawl gave way to rows of hollowed-out storefronts and old warehouses. Windows gaped empty like broken teeth, glass scattered across the sidewalks. Trash and paper drifted in the breeze, catching against rusted fences. Ghost, ever silent, kept his rifle braced on the window frame, watching every shadow.
Twice more they slowed to clear the way — once to shove aside an overturned motorcycle, another time to drag a rusted shopping cart tangled in barbed wire from the middle of the road. Each stop felt longer than it was, each second out in the open stretching tight with tension.
But it wasn't until they neared the edge of the city proper that they had their first real encounter. Ahead, five walkers milled around a burnt-out bus, their attention scattered until the JLTV engines caught their ears. They turned, jaws slack, eyes vacant.
Andrew signaled quick and low. "Dismount. Quiet work."
The Rangers moved with precision, spreading out in pairs. Knives, hatchets, and axes did their grim work. The sounds were ugly but fast — wet cracks, the scrape of boots on broken asphalt. Within moments, the corpses lay still, dragged off the road so the convoy could continue.
From the rear vehicle, Price's voice came steady over comms. "Keep movin'. We don't want to draw more of them. We'll save the heavy kit for when it counts."
The convoy pressed on, the skyline of Atlanta now looming larger with every turn.
By late morning, the convoy rolled into the outskirts of the city proper. The Grady Memorial hospital's silhouette rose ahead, its facade still intact. The once-busy grounds were eerily quiet with only few groans cutting through the silence, the air heavy with the stale stink of decay.
They stopped two blocks out, tucking the JLTVs into the shadow of a half-collapsed parking garage. From there, a small team of camouflaged figures waved them in. Rangers from the recon element, rifles slung, eyes sharp.
The link-up was smooth, disciplined. One Ranger stepped forward, lowering his headset. " Captain. Lieutenant. We've had eyes on the place since yesterday. No movement outside, and only the occasional movement from within. No signs of a horde, but there are stragglers wandering around."
Andrew exchanged a look with Price.
"Inside?" Price asked.
"Couldn't get a clear look. Curtains drawn. On the roof the helicopter's still up there. Looks like it hasn't been touched."
The recon leader gestured toward a nearby building, a squat brick clinic across the street from the hospital's emergency wing. From its rooftop, the rest of the recon team kept watch with binoculars and a scoped rifle, mentaining watch over the hospital grounds.
Andrew crouched over a hand drawn map of the hospitals exterior from the recon leader, spread across a car hood. "Front entrance is obvious. The first Ranger squad and I will take it. Push straight into the lobby, establish a foothold."
Price leaned over, tapping the back edge of the hospital. "We'll circle round, me and the lads, through the service entrance here. Fewer eyes. If anyone's holed up inside, they'll least expect trouble from the rear."
Andrew nodded, then looked at the second Ranger squad leader. "You'll cover the side access points. Ambulance bay, loading docks, staff doors. Nothing in or out without your say-so."
The Ranger squad leader gave a crisp nod. "We'll set on the ambulance ramp, cover both the side doors and loading dock. Anyone tries to bolt, we'll catch it."
The plan was tight: three elements converging, no gaps in the net. The hospital wasn't a fortress, but its multiple entry points could easily scatter their forces if left unchecked. By securing the front, back, and sides simultaneously, they'd contain whatever was inside, human or otherwise.
Price straightened, rolling his shoulders. "We move fast and quiet. No fireworks unless it's necessary. If there are people inside, we talk first."
Soap cracked a grin, checking the mag on his rifle. "Talk first, eh? Not usually our style."
Price gave him a sidelong look. "Then best be on your best behavior."
Ghost, silent as ever, simply adjusted the sling on his weapon and turned toward the shadows of the hospital looming ahead.
Andrew exhaled, eyes fixed on the building's dark windows. "All right. Let's move."
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I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter.
I'm trying to give the resort a proper name. Comment your opinion on it , if you don't like it, suggestions are welcomed.