Night had fallen completely over Atlantic City, transforming the ruined urban landscape into a maze of shadows and uncertain threats.
The day had technically ended in tremendous success by every objective metric we'd established that morning when our convoy had departed from the temporary shelter in Galloway Township.
We'd successfully secured the Whitesun Hotel—all ten floors thoroughly cleared of Infected, verified safe for habitation, and prepared to receive Margaret's entire community of sixty vulnerable survivors.
We'd secured the surrounding blocks as well, creating a defensive perimeter spanning several city blocks that was genuinely clear of wandering Infected threats. We'd even managed to strategically block the main road approaches using abandoned vehicles and debris barricades, establishing some things like choke points that would prevent large numbers of Infected from simply wandering into our claimed territory.
