High Command Office. A man in his forties sat behind a massive desk. The right side of his face was covered in a web of scars, as if someone had once tried to rip the skin off with their claws. His eyelid drooped slightly, but the eye still saw sharply. He stared thoughtfully at the bleak report on the quarantine zone.
A short knock sounded at the door, and a soldier entered.
"Sir, news from the lab," the soldier reported.
"Go on," the colonel replied. There were so many stars shining on his shoulder straps.
"We've managed to prepare enough compound for two missiles," the soldier said.
"How much time do you need to make more?" the colonel asked, not lifting his eyes from the papers.
"In three days there'll be another batch, and… that's all." The soldier glanced aside, as if he didn't believe his own words.
"All?" The colonel barely held back an irritated sigh. He already knew: their resources were melting away like water in sand. You can't survive forever on the scraps of civilization. Without new supplies, without processing, their defense would eventually collapse. And the belts were already tightened to the last notch.
"Has Seattle or Boston responded?" the colonel asked, his voice hollow, as if he already felt the answer.
"Yes, sir. They report they're also running out of resources and can't refuel the vehicles with diesel to send anything to us," the soldier said.
"Do they not understand what's happening? Do they not see we have a chance to wipe out every last one of those creatures, and they can't spare any help?" the colonel snapped. "Get in touch with them again. Immediately!"
"Yes, sir!" The soldier almost ran out, but the colonel's voice stopped him.
"Wait… It's pointless." The colonel rubbed his face tiredly. "Pass the order to the lab: they need to be ready to deploy the missiles."
He understood Pittsburgh's situation perfectly. Every detail, every lost opportunity and yet there was almost nothing he could do. Only one desperate move remained: throw his soldiers into the slaughter and wait to see who survived them or the enemy.
********************
Starting up the pickup, I opened the gate and drove out of the mine. Closed it behind me and got back behind the wheel. I laid the map next to me and looked it over again to refresh the route in my mind. Then I headed out.
The road was surprisingly calm. No traffic jams, no ambushes, no suspicious tracks. It stayed that way until I stopped at a railway crossing. A motionless train stood directly on it.
Pulling out my binoculars, I scanned the area. Didn't look like a planned ambush. I opened the map and checked whether there were other crossings ahead. All too far. I'd have to deal with this one.
I examined the crossing again. Only a few runners in sight.
The simplest way was to drive around through the tree line and cross where the cars ended. But going in without scouting and getting stuck among infected would end badly. The wheels could slip between the rails, lose traction, and I'd be done for stuck with no way out. If that happened, the infected would swarm me fast, and getting out to shoot it out of the cab… not my idea of a good time.
I drove the pickup into the trees so it couldn't be seen from the road. Removing the battery, I closed the hood and the doors just in case someone got the idea to break in.
"Guard," I told Buddy.
Slipping into the forest thicket, I approached the tracks and followed them. The train was a freight one, and the only possible passengers would be the crew. At most two, maybe four, depending on how many engines were at the head. The infected on the road were likely people who'd once stopped their car right at the crossing.
Reaching the leading car, I didn't even bother trying to look inside there was no point. Electricity had been gone for a long time, and even if I wanted to move the train, I wouldn't be able to.
A ridiculous thought crept into my head an apocalypse train: take a locomotive, attach a car, turn it all into a universal machine for traveling across the country. But in reality, that was nearly impossible. How many trains were abandoned on the tracks like this one? Or kept going even after the crew turned into infected? Probably plenty of disasters happened all over the country.
I gauged the height of the rails and roughly compared it with the pickup's clearance. I should be able to cross without trouble.
Heading back to the truck, I heard Buddy barking. Switching to a run, I tore through the forest as fast as I could. Bursting out of the brush, I assessed the situation. The dog had his teeth clamped into a bandit's arm, while another attacker was already swinging a machete. A moment before the strike landed, Buddy let go, and the blade cleaved the arm clean off.
"You fuuucking bastard! You chopped my arm off!" the bandit screamed, blood pouring everywhere.
"I didn't" he didn't finish a bullet punched through his skull.
whistle
Buddy ran up to me.
"Good boy. Search," I said, staying tense and scanning the area.
The dog instantly crouched low and began circling, sniffing the ground. I walked up to the writhing bandit.
"Help me… please," he begged weakly.
"You're done," I said, raising my rifle and firing.
Bark-bark.
Hearing Buddy, I headed toward him. A vehicle stood by the roadside.
"Were they following me?" I muttered, approaching it.
I circled the pickup. No one else. Looked inside nothing either. They were traveling without supplies, almost empty-handed. Which meant someone had gotten on my tail not long ago. Kept their distance, waited for the right moment.
Coming back, I looked at the bodies. They'd probably been waiting for me to stop, rest, maybe set up camp. When they saw me leave, they made their move and tried to break into the truck, planning to steal it along with all my gear.
I picked up the battery and put it back in. Decided not to waste bullets easier to just plow through the infected at speed.
Pulling back onto the road, I stomped the gas and, while accelerating, ran over the infected that got in my way. Their bodies burst apart as the bumper slammed into them. I stayed beside the train, bouncing over the uneven ground. Pushing the engine harder, I climbed onto the first track, then the second, and finally rolled down onto solid ground again.
Half an hour later, I finally reached the small town. After circling it several times, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Then it hit me: no people, no infected. Absolute silence.
Opening the map, I found the spot where the storage depot was supposed to be. Not very large, but it held not only old weapons some modern ones too. I considered whether to go on foot or by truck. The pickup was decently armored, so I decided to drive. I almost reached the town and turned onto the road leading to my target until I stopped in front of overturned vehicles. They were piled together, completely blocking the road. That put me even more on edge. Looked like somebody was there, maybe even willing to trade if I played it right.
Starting the truck and running through the usual checks, I decided to scout on foot.
Cutting through a patch of forest, I heard a dry snap. A second later, the metal jaws of a trap snapped shut around my leg with a sickening crunch.
"Son of a…" I exhaled, losing my balance.
I grabbed the steel arches with both hands, trying to pry them apart, but it was almost useless. The more I pulled, the deeper the teeth bit into my flesh.