"Less than ten days since the dam and now a fucking zombie horde, huh?"
Damon stared at the array of monitors flickering before him, his jaw tight enough to crack teeth.
He sneered. The investigation into rifts kept stalling because the rifts had been industrialized. Too much resource and benefit could be harvested from the rifts, connecting corrupted worlds together.
So far, they could still hold the corruption back. But what if one day…
The command control had been thrown together in under two hours. It was what happened when you gave competent people unlimited funding and a genuine apocalypse to work with.
The main tent was a military-grade mobile operations center, its canvas walls lined with soundproofing material and rigged with enough cabling to make an electrician weep.
Three rows of workstations dominated the interior, each station manned by personnel in headsets, their faces illuminated by the cold glow of monitors displaying real-time tactical overlays.
