The convoy rolled down the wealthy residential street with practiced efficiency.
It had five vehicles in it...two transport trucks for the survivors, two covered trucks for supplies, and a lead jeep. They moved in tight formation, their engines the only sound in the otherwise silent neighborhood.
Commander Li Wenqiang sat in the passenger seat of the lead vehicle, his rifle resting across his lap, and his eyes scanning the houses they passed.
They had done this seventeen times in the past four days. The routine was established, the protocol clear, the outcome predictable. Survivors heard the broadcast, gathered their supplies, and waited for extraction.
Simple. Clean. Controlled.
The jeep slowed as they approached the next house on the long road and Li raised his hand, signaling the convoy to stop.
His soldiers dismounted from the vehicle immediately, their movements coordinated and deliberate.
