Meanwhile, Leah's materials team set out on their first run.
Three trucks, escorted by two armed Humvees, crept cautiously along the battered Interstate 40 toward Knoxville.
It wasn't a long trip, but every second kept them on edge.
They had to stop from time to time to clear scattered walkers or move wrecked vehicles blocking the road.
Leah held her suppressed rifle steadily, picking off any walker or living person who dared come close.
"Stay sharp, everyone! We don't know what's waiting inside the logistics center!" Leah warned over the radio.
They headed straight for the large logistics center the search team had mentioned.
And it did not disappoint.
The vast open parking lot was packed with hundreds of abandoned vehicles of all kinds, coated in dust and rust.
Around the warehouse area, large stretches of asphalt were cracked and heaved up.
"Damn! We've hit the jackpot!" Turner jumped out of the truck, practically drooling at the sight.
"Move it!" Leah ordered. "Security team, set up a perimeter! Collection team, strip any usable parts first, then load the empty shells and broken asphalt! We don't have much time!"
Everyone got to work immediately.
The clang of metal, the rumble of engines, and the scrape of chains tangled into a chaotic symphony.
Walkers wandering nearby were drawn by the noise, but before they could get close, the outer security team quietly took them down.
On their first trip, they hauled back ten flattened car shells and a truckload of broken asphalt.
Not a huge haul, but enough to prove the method worked.
A week later, runway construction entered its most grueling phase.
The foundation had to be compacted over and over again.
No road roller?
Then they tied massive concrete blocks behind tractors with ropes and dragged them back and forth. At the same time, dozens of people from the mobile team were pulled in to pound the ground manually with heavy wooden tampers and stone rollers.
This was brutal work.
Everyone's hands were blistered, their shoulders sunburned and peeling, but not a single person complained.
This meant a huge amount of points.
Especially those who had been called out by Calista earlier for nitpicking.
They hadn't gotten enough work before and were on the verge of being kicked out. Now, with the labor shortage, they fought to take on the hardest, highest-point tasks.
Robert, Oliver, and Ancheta moved constantly across the site, checking everything with leveling tools. Their standards were merciless.
"This section isn't level! It's off by several centimeters! Redo it!"
"This drainage slope is too shallow! Water won't drain—one rain and the whole runway is done!"
No one dared talk back.
Leah led the materials team out two more times.
Luck didn't always hold.
Once, midway through the trip, they were ambushed by a small group of reckless raiders.
The attackers hid in a crumbling roadside building, firing wildly with their shabby guns.
"Take cover! Mike, left high ground! Carver, use the truck for cover and suppress them!" Leah stayed completely calm, issuing orders with precision.
Carver almost laughed. These idiots really had a death wish.
The fight ended quickly, just as expected.
The Reapers and National Guard's superior training and marksmanship crushed them completely.
The attackers left behind a few bodies and fled in panic.
On their side, one civilian driver had his arm grazed by a stray bullet, but it wasn't serious.
"Fuck! These damn pests just won't quit!" Turner cursed as he wrapped the driver's arm.
Leah stared coldly in the direction the raiders had fled.
"We need to be more careful. When we get back, I'll tell Calista—we need to clear out these threats nearby."
The incident served as a warning to the otherwise bustling construction effort.
The patrol teams guarding the base came under heavier pressure, increasing both frequency and range.
Another week or two passed, and it was finally time to lay the runway.
The scene looked like some kind of primitive industrial ritual in the wasteland.
At one end, Ancheta led people in building crude earth furnaces, tossing salvaged car shells into the flames.
The fires burned day and night. Molten metal was poured into rough sand molds, forming iron plates of varying sizes.
On the other side, the broken asphalt brought back in batches was crushed even finer and spread across the compacted foundation as a base layer.
Then the heavy, jagged-edged metal plates were carried over and fitted together piece by piece.
Mechanics Henry and Tom led a few workers skilled in welding. Wearing battered protective masks, they used old welding rods from the estate's stockpile to seal the seams one by one.
Sparks flew everywhere. The air was thick with the smell of burning, rust, and molten metal.
The whole process was crude and rough, but it carried a raw, relentless intensity.
Finally, under the National Guard's direction, the search team brought back a prize—a massive steamroller from the highway department.
Miraculously, the base's mechanics managed to get it running again.
As the steel beast rumbled forward, belching black smoke, its massive roller slowly passed over the assembled runway. Everyone held their breath.
After it rolled through, the uneven surface became noticeably smoother and far more solid. The metal plates and asphalt base were pressed tightly together.
To make it even stronger and better sealed, Calista adopted one of Ancheta's boldest ideas—fire.
Several soldiers armed with flamethrowers swept across the runway surface.
The intense heat softened the underlying asphalt slightly, allowing it to fill the gaps between the metal plates and form a hardened outer layer.
When the flames died down, a post-apocalyptic runway—over 900 meters long, gleaming with cold metal and streaked with black asphalt—stretched across Blackberry Ranch.
At last, the historic day arrived.
Everyone in the base who wasn't tied up with urgent tasks came running over, crowding around the runway and craning their necks to watch.
Calista, Leah, Rickson, Robert, and the others stood at one end, their hearts tense.
The first test was the civilian helicopter Calista had bought before the apocalypse, piloted by Kenny.
The engine hummed to life, the rotor spinning faster and faster, whipping up winds so strong it was hard to keep your eyes open.
Under everyone's gaze, the helicopter lifted lightly off the ground, hovered briefly, then flew low along the runway, made a few turns, and landed steadily in the middle.
"We did it!!!"
The crowd exploded.
Cheers thundered into the sky.
This was hope for civilization.
Next came the most critical test—the fixed-wing aircraft.
They used the Cessna 172 found in the Blackberry Ranch hangar and repaired earlier, flown by Lee.
This small plane was far more sensitive than a helicopter and demanded much more from the runway.
Lee piloted the Cessna, accelerating along the rough metal runway.
Everyone held their breath as the plane bumped and rattled forward, picking up speed…
Finally, just as it neared the end of the runway, the nose lifted—and the wheels left the ground.
The Cessna took off successfully, circling twice over Rock Fortress, its wings glinting in the sunlight like a free spirit.
Then it descended smoothly and landed cleanly back on the runway.