The rumble of diesel engines echoed across the silent fuel depot as soldiers finished connecting hoses to the waiting tankers.
The sharp scent of gasoline hung in the air.
The captain simply waited, his expression unreadable, as if he understood that a decision like this could not be made in a heartbeat.
The group gathered into a loose circle.
Ali folded his arms across his chest, his jaw tightening before anyone else could speak.
"I don't trust them."
Several heads turned toward him.
"They call themselves the military," Ali continued, his voice carrying days of bottled frustration. "The military is the reason the city became a graveyard."
Nobody interrupted him.
The memory settled over the group like ash.
None of them had forgot the sight of the river of zombies that the drones drawed away from the University Campus.
Mei Lin finally spoke, her voice calm enough to cut through the emotion without dismissing it.
"They weren't trying to kill civilians."
Ali looked at her sharply.
"They were trying to destroy the horde."
She glanced toward the ruined city.
"When the infected reached those numbers, they weren't talking about hundreds anymore. They were talking about hundreds of thousands."
No one argued.
"If that horde had broken out," Mei Lin continued, "it wouldn't have stopped at one city. Every town in its path would have fallen. Every highway would have become another migration route for the infected."
She paused before adding quietly,
"I understand why they made that decision."
Ali shook his head.
"So innocent people had to die?"
"I'm not saying it was right," she answered.
"I'm saying I understand why they believed they had no other choice."
The distinction lingered in the silence.
Marco rubbed the back of his neck before speaking.
"I think everyone here is conflicted about it."
His gaze drifted toward Captain Hayes and the soldiers waiting beside their vehicles.
"But there's something else we should think about."
"What?" Ali asked.
Marco nodded toward the convoy.
"The people who ordered the bombing... and the people standing over there... may not be the same people."
Ali frowned.
"The military is still the military."
"Not exactly."
Marco spoke carefully, choosing each word.
"Someone sitting in a command bunker gives an order. Someone else flies the aircraft. Someone else survives on the ground after everything falls apart."
He gestured toward the soldiers.
"These men could have spent the last several weeks doing exactly what we've been doing."
Surviving.
"Besides," Marco continued, "if they believed in killing anything that moves..."
He let the sentence hang.
"...we'd already be dead."
The simple truth struck harder than any speech.
The soldiers had surrounded them while armed.
They had every tactical advantage.
Instead of opening fire, they had offered food, medical care, and shelter.
Marco lowered his voice.
"And there's one more thing."
Everyone looked at him.
"Our families might still be there."
The words landed heavily.
"If there are other military bases like this one, then maybe civilians were evacuated before the bombing. Maybe rescue operations actually worked somewhere."
Hope was dangerous.
But it was still hope.
"If we walk away now," Marco said, "we might also be walking away from the best chance we'll ever have to find answers."
Ali stared at the ground for several long seconds.
His fists slowly unclenched.
"I still don't like them."
"No one's asking you to," Marco replied.
Another silence followed.
Finally, Ali exhaled through his nose.
"...Fine."
He looked toward Corvin.
"I still think we keep one eye open."
A faint smile tugged at Corvin's face.
"I was planning on keeping both open."
A few quiet chuckles rippled through the group, easing the tension just enough.
Corvin looked around the circle one last time.
"Anyone else object?"
No one spoke.
One by one, they nodded.
The decision had been made.
Corvin turned back toward Captain Hayes.
"We'll come with you."
The captain gave a single respectful nod.
"Then welcome aboard."
The convoy remained parked around the fuel station while soldiers secured every entrance and rooftop overlooking the area.
The low growl of diesel engines mixed with the steady hum of industrial fuel pumps, creating an uneasy rhythm that echoed through the otherwise abandoned highway.
Corvin wandered toward the tanker trucks, curiosity getting the better of him.
He ran his eyes over the faded specification plates welded onto the side of the nearest vehicle.
Maximum Capacity: 35,000 Litres.
He looked at the second tanker.
The same.
"So each tanker carries thirty-five thousand litres," he murmured.
His gaze shifted toward the station's electronic inventory display. Though cracked in several places, the screen still functioned.
Available Fuel: 60,500 Litres.
Corvin did the math almost instantly.
"Not enough to fill both completely," he said quietly.
Captain Nathan Hayes walked over after overhearing him.
"Good eye."
Corvin looked at him.
"We'll have to split it," Nathan said. "One tanker takes thirty-five thousand. The other gets the remaining twenty-five thousand five hundred."
Corvin nodded.
"It'll have to do."
The captain gave a small smile.
Nathan studied the group for another moment before speaking into his radio.
"They're clear."
A few moments later, two soldiers emerged carrying several duffel bags, backpacks, and a collection of confiscated weapons.
Nathan gestured toward them.
"We've confirmed none of you intended to ambush us."
Ali immediately stepped forward and reclaimed his pistol, inspecting it with obvious relief before holstering it on his belt.
One by one, everyone collected their belongings.
Astrid checked that her medical supplies were untouched.
Marco counted the books and food inside his pack.
Priya secured her combat knife against her belt.
Mei Lin silently inspected the edge of her fire axe before fastening it across her back.
Only after everyone confirmed nothing was missing did Nathan speak again.
"Let's keep things professional."
Corvin nodded.
"You've kept your word."
"So have you."
The pumps continued transferring fuel.
The waiting, however, proved far longer than anyone wanted.
Hour after hour passed beneath the afternoon sun.
Nobody wandered far from the convoy.
Some soldiers rotated watch shifts while others monitored rooftops through binoculars.
Members of Corvin's group sat together in the shade of an overturned delivery truck, conserving their energy.
Occasionally the quiet was broken.
A lone infected stumbled out from a side of the road, drawn by the distant engine noise.
Before it had taken more than a few steps, a suppressed rifle cracked.
The infected collapsed instantly.
Later another emerged from inside the warehouse of the store.
This time a soldier dispatched it with a clean burst from his carbine before it reached anyone.
No alarms.
No panic.
Just practiced efficiency.
Watching them, even Ali had to admit the soldiers knew exactly what they were doing.
By the time the fuel pumps finally clicked to a stop, nearly three hours had passed.
The first tanker stood completely full.
The second carried the station's remaining fuel.
A soldier disconnected the thick hose while another sealed the tank hatches.
Captain Nathan glanced at his watch before raising his voice.
"Mission complete! Prepare to move!"
Almost immediately the convoy came alive.
Drivers climbed into their vehicles.
Engines roared to life one after another until the street vibrated beneath the combined weight of armored transports and fuel tankers.
Corvin looked back at the deserted fuel station one last time.
The groups climbed aboard their vehicles and started driving along with the military to go back to their base.
One by one, the convoy rolled out of the station and onto the empty highway.
Leaving the ruined city behind, the thirteen survivors followed the military toward their base.
Which calles itself 'The Anchor .'
Three more hours passed on the road.
The convoy drove in disciplined formation, never breaking its pace. The ruined city gradually disappeared behind them, replaced by stretches of empty highway, abandoned villages, and fields slowly being reclaimed by nature.
Aside from the occasional infected wandering near the roadside, the journey remained uneventful.
As the afternoon sun began its slow descent, the lead vehicles rounded a gentle bend.
"There," one of the soldiers said over the radio.
Corvin leaned forward in his seat.
A massive stone fortress stood in the distance.
Its thick walls rose above the surrounding landscape, weathered by decades of wind and rain, yet still imposing. Behind it, a broad river shimmered beneath the golden light, flowing steadily toward the distant horizon.
Hamza's eyes widened.
"...No way."
Hamza spoke over the group's radio.
"I know this place."
He stared through the windshield, almost forgetting to blink.
"That's Fort Anchor."
Corvin asked through the radio.
"You've been here before?"
"No," Hamza replied. "But I knows about it."
His voice carried a mixture of surprise and nostalgia.
"It's about three kilometers from the Raging Sea. During floods, cyclones, and tsunamis, this fort always became a rescue center. The military, coast guard, disaster response teams... they all operated from here."
He shook his head.
"I heard it was abandoned years ago."
As the convoy continued forward, more details came into view.
Corvin studied the layout with the instinctive curiosity of an engineer.
"...Interesting."
"What?" Chase asked.
"The base is divided."
Everyone looked where he was pointing.
A paved road ran directly through the complex, splitting it into two distinct sections.
On the left side stretched a wide open field.
What had once been empty land had been transformed into a large temporary compound.
Tall iron fencing surrounded the entire area.
But it clearly hadn't been considered enough.
They made another wall using wooden logs and reinforced it with reinforced steel plates, and several layers of barbed wire crowned the perimeter.
Watch platforms overlooked the enclosure from multiple angles.
"It must be the rescue centre that Hamza spoke of." Mei Lin muttered.
Corvin's attention shifted to the opposite side.
The right side housed the original military fort.
Unlike the improvised compound, this section looked meticulously maintained.
Ancient stone walls had been repaired with reinforced concrete.
Sandbag emplacements overlooked every approach.
Guard towers rose above the walls at regular intervals, each occupied by armed soldiers scanning the surrounding terrain through binoculars.
Heavy machine guns were mounted on several defensive positions.
Even from a distance, Corvin could see layers of overlapping security.
No blind spots.
No obvious weaknesses.
Someone had spent months strengthening the old fortress.
The convoy slowed as it approached a fortified checkpoint built across the road connecting both halves of the base.
Concrete barriers forced every vehicle into a narrow lane before a reinforced steel gate.
Armed guards stepped forward immediately.
Mei Lin watched carefully through the window.
Captain Nathan Hayes climbed out of the lead vehicle before anyone else moved.
He exchanged a brief salute with the officer standing at the checkpoint.
The two spoke for several moments.
Although she couldn't hear the conversation, she noticed the captain gesturing toward the transport carrying Corvin's group.
The checkpoint commander listened silently before glancing toward them.
After a moment, he gave a single nod.
The steel gate slowly began to slide open.
One by one, the convoy rolled inside.
Captain Hayes climbed back into his vehicle and spoke over the convoy radio.
"Listen up."
His voice came through every transport clearly.
"You are not being taken directly into the main fortress."
The thirteen exchanged uncertain looks.
"Before anyone enters the primary base," the captain continued, "everyone undergoes medical and psychological evaluation."
"Pdycolo
"Standard procedure," Nathan answered. "We need to rule out infection, assess physical health, and ensure no one is suffering from conditions that could endanger themselves or others."
No one argued.
Surviving the apocalypse could leave scars far deeper than broken bones.
"The evaluations won't take long," he assured them. "Once you're cleared, we'll determine your assignments and housing."
The convoy rolled deeper into the fenced compound.
Beyond the towering walls of Fort Anchor, the river flowed quietly toward the Raging Sea, while inside its defenses, the survivors prepared to face a different kind of trial.
The convoy rolled through the massive gates of Fort Anchor before coming to a stop inside a secured reception area.
Concrete barriers boxed the vehicles into a narrow inspection lane, while armed soldiers stood watch from elevated platforms overhead. Even inside the walls, security remained tight.
The rear doors of the transport swung open.
"Everyone out," a soldier called.
Corvin and the others climbed down one by one, stretching their stiff legs after the long journey.
A gate guard carrying a rifle stepped forward, clipboard tucked beneath one arm.
"Before you proceed any further," he announced, "all civilians are required to surrender their weapons."
The words landed like a stone.
No one moved.
Ali's expression hardened immediately.
"...Why?"
The guard looked at him with an amused smile.
"Because we can't have civilians walking around a military camp armed, can we?"
A few nearby soldiers chuckled quietly.
Ali didn't.
His grip tightened around the strap of his rifle.
"We've carried these weapons for days."
"And now you're inside a secured military installation," the guard replied evenly. "Different rules."
"They're ours."
"They'll be stored safely."
Ali's eyes narrowed.
"That's easy to say."
The atmosphere became noticeably tense.
Several guards subtly shifted their footing, though none raised their weapons.
Captain Nathan Hayes watched silently from a short distance, choosing not to interfere.
He seemed curious to see how the group would respond.
Ali took a step forward.
"We survived because of these."
His voice remained calm, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath it.
"When no one else was coming, these kept us alive."
The guard nodded once.
"I believe you."
"Then you should understand why I'm not eager to hand them over."
Before the conversation could go any further...
Thwack.
A sharp smack landed squarely on the back of Ali's head.
"Ow!"
Ali spun around in surprise.
Nia stood behind him with her arms folded.
"Oh, stop being so stubborn all the time."
Ali stared at her.
"I'm being careful."
"You're being impossible."
She rolled her eyes.
"We agreed to come here. Did you think they were just going to let us stroll into a military base carrying weapons?"
Ali opened his mouth to argue.
Nothing came out.
Instead, irritation flashed across his face.
Almost instinctively, his right hand shot upward as though he were about to smack her back.
The movement froze halfway.
Silence.
Ali's fingers curled into a fist before slowly relaxing again.
He closed his eyes.
A long, controlled breath escaped his lungs.
When he opened them again, the anger had faded.
"...Sorry."
Nia simply shrugged.
"I know."
She wasn't afraid of him.
Probably because she knew he would never actually hit her.
Ali looked down at the weapon hanging from his belt.
The weapon had become more than a tool.
It had become security.
A promise that he could protect the people beside him.
Slowly, he removed the holster from his belt.
Without another word, he held it out to the waiting guard.
The soldier accepted it respectfully rather than triumphantly.
One after another, the rest of the group followed.
Corvin surrendered his pipe wrench.
Mei Lin carefully placed her fire axe onto the collection table.
Marco laid down his crowbar.
Astrid handed over her baton.
Priya unclipped her combat knife.
Chase, Hamza, and the others added their weapons to the growing pile.
No one looked happy about it.
Some wore reluctant expressions.
Others looked anxious.
A few avoided looking at the table altogether.
It felt strangely vulnerable to stand there empty-handed.
The guard checked each weapon against his inventory sheet before giving a short nod.
"They'll be secured in the armory. Once your evaluations are complete and your status is determined, the command staff will decide what equipment you're authorized to carry."
The explanation did little to ease the knot in anyone's stomach.
For the first time since the outbreak began, we stood completely unarmed, surrounded by strangers behind walls they had only just entered.
Once the last weapon had been logged and carried away toward the armory, the gate guard clipped the inventory sheet onto his clipboard and reached for the radio clipped to his vest.
"Checkpoint to Operations," he said. "Reception complete. Send someone from quarantine to collect the new arrivals."
A burst of static answered him before a voice acknowledged the request.
"Copy. On the way."
Corvin watched as the military trucks that had brought them in continued deeper into the compound.
A thought suddenly crossed his mind.
"What about our vehicles?" he asked.
The guard looked up from his clipboard.
"The cars we came here in," Corvin clarified. "And all the supplies we gathered."
The guard nodded, as though he'd answered the same question dozens of times.
"The vehicles will remain inside the base."
"For storage?"
"For now."
He pointed toward a fenced motor pool visible in the distance.
"If they're mechanically sound, they'll probably be assigned to supply runs, scouting missions, or transport duty."
Corvin wasn't surprised.
Fuel and functioning vehicles had become priceless resources.
"And our supplies?" asked Astrid
The guard leaned casually against the barrier.
"Nothing gets wasted here."
He gestured toward the fort behind him.
"We operate on a credit system."
The group exchanged curious looks.
"If you contribute to the base by working, completing assigned duties, or volunteering for operations, you earn credits."
"What can we use them for?" Marco asked.
"Just about everything."
The guard began counting on his fingers.
"Food beyond the standard rations. Better clothing. Personal equipment. Hygiene supplies. Tools. Comfort items."
"So it's... a controlled economy?" Mei Lin asked.
"Pretty much."
"And the things we brought?"
"They'll be assessed and added to the base inventory."
Ali frowned.
"So we're just giving everything away?"
"Not exactly," the guard replied. "The value of your supplies will be credited to your accounts once processing is complete."
That eased the tension slightly.
At least they weren't losing everything.
A few minutes later, footsteps approached from across the open field.
The group turned.
Walking toward them was a broad-shouldered man who looked to be somewhere in his early forties.
Unlike every soldier they'd seen so far, he wore no camouflage.
Instead, he looked as though he'd stepped straight out of a Texas ranch.
A weathered brown cowboy hat shaded his face.
He wore faded denim jeans tucked into worn leather boots, a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a thick leather belt with heavy work gloves hanging from one side.
Even the confident, easygoing way he walked seemed more suited to open pastures than military walls.
He tipped his hat politely as he reached them.
"Afternoon."
His voice carried a warm southern drawl.
"My name's Travis Harper."
He extended a hand toward Corvin.
"I'm in charge of the livestock around here."
Corvin shook his hand.
"Livestock?"
Travis grinned.
"Cattle, goats, chickens, a few horses. If it eats grass or lays eggs, it's probably my problem."
A few tired smiles appeared across the group.
It was the first ordinary conversation they'd had in what felt like forever.
Travis motioned for them to follow.
"Come on. Let's get y'all settled."
He led them across the temporary compound to a large canvas tent enclosed by another ring of fencing.
Four armed soldiers stood guard around its perimeter.
Stopping at the entrance, Travis pulled back the flap.
"This here's the quarantine tent."
Inside were rows of neatly arranged camp beds, a few folding tables, and portable fans pushing warm air around the space.
"You'll stay here until medical calls you."
He pointed toward a nearby building.
"They'll bring you out one at a time for physical and psychological evaluations."
He smiled reassuringly.
"So for now..."
He stepped aside.
"...sit tight and get some rest."
No one argued.
The moment they entered, exhaustion finally caught up with them.
A full day of negotiations, uncertainty, travel, inspections, and constant tension weighed heavily on every muscle.
Backpacks hit the floor.
Boots were kicked aside.
One by one, the thirteen survivors collapsed onto the narrow camp beds.
Within minutes, quiet breathing filled the tent.
Even with soldiers standing guard outside and an unfamiliar future waiting beyond the canvas walls, sleep claimed them almost instantly.
For the first time in days, they slept without needing someone to keep watch.