Chapter 51 - Chapter: The Trickery

(Roy pov)

The rain fell steadily as Roy, Troy, and his sister approached the police station. The night had been long, and the steady downpour made the oppressive atmosphere worse. the air smelled earthy and the ground smelled metelish as growling and steady stepping noises seemed to challenge against the stormy sky.

As they reached the entrance, a deep unease settled over Roy. The dim light from a flickering streetlamp barely illuminated the path ahead, casting long, eerie shadows across the station's facade. The building seemed deserted, but Roy's instincts screamed that something was wrong fully attentive and expecting a shadow lunge over them.

Inside, the station was in disarray. Signs of a recent struggle were evident—shattered glass, overturned furniture, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood hanging in the air. The silence was unnerving, broken only by the occasional water drip from a leaky roof. Roy knew something was off, but with Troy's sister in tow, they had no choice but to press on.

As they cautiously made their way down the main hallway, a group of men approached them. They wore police uniforms, but something about them didn't sit right with Roy. Their clothes were too clean, their demeanor too relaxed for officers supposedly in the thick of an apocalypse. The man leading them was tall and lean, with a shaved head and a scar running down his cheek—a face hardened by violence.

"ID, please," the scarred man demanded, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of authority that felt out of place.

Roy hesitated, his hand instinctively moving toward his weapon, but he saw the fear in Troy's eyes and knew they had to play along, at least for now. "We don't carry IDs in the middle of an apocalypse," Roy replied, trying to keep his tone steady.

The scarred man didn't react, but another stepped forward, his uniform slightly too big for him and his eyes darting nervously. "We'll need to secure your weapons," he said. "Just for safety. We've had some... incidents."

Troy looked at Roy, who gave him a subtle nod to comply. Reluctantly, they handed over their weapons. The men collected them with practiced ease, their familiarity with the guns confirming Roy's suspicions—these weren't just police officers; they were seasoned criminals.

"We'll take you to a safe area," the scarred man continued, gesturing toward the back of the station. "There's been a lot of unrest, and we can't have you wandering around."

As they were led further into the station, Roy's unease deepened. They passed through narrow hallways lined with holding cells, most of them empty, save for a few terrified civilians. The men were leading them somewhere specific, and Roy didn't like where this was headed.

They were brought to a small holding area near the back of the station. The scarred man stopped and turned to face them, his expression unreadable. "We're going to keep you here for your own safety," he said, and before Roy could react, the door was slammed shut, trapping them inside.

Panic surged through Roy as the realization hit him. They'd been tricked. He rushed to the door, banging on it, but the men outside just laughed.

"You're not real cops, are you?" Roy yelled, hoping Hruday or Hector might be nearby to hear. "You're criminals!"

Troy joined in, his voice shaking. "Let us go, you tricksters!"

A mocking voice replied from the other side of the door. "You'll be safe in there. Safer than out here, at least."

Troy's sister clung to him, her eyes wide with fear. Roy turned to comfort her, but his mind was racing. They needed to get out of here, and fast. But how?

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan from the corner of the cell. He turned to see a man, bruised and bloodied, tied up and barely conscious. Roy hurried over and began untying the man's hands, peeling back the blue duct tape that sealed his mouth.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Roy asked urgently.

The man groaned, sitting up slowly. "They... they took over," he whispered, his voice weak. "They're not real cops. They're criminals, using the station as a base. I tried to stop them, but..." He trailed off, wincing in pain.

Another figure moved in the shadows of the cell, catching Roy's attention. He tensed, but the man stepped forward, revealing himself as another police officer. "I'm undercover," the man said in a low voice. "They caught me trying to expose them. We need to get out of here before they decide to get rid of us for good."

Roy nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation. "We need to warn Hruday and Hector," he said. "But I don't know where they are."

Meanwhile, Roy paced the small cell, his mind racing. He knew Hruday and Hector were out there somewhere, but he had no idea what was happening. The criminals had left them alone for

 now, but Roy knew it was only a matter of time before they came back.

Suddenly, the door to the holding area creaked open, and the scarred man stepped inside. He looked at Roy with a calculating expression. "We've been thinking," he said slowly. "You've got people, supplies. We need that. So here's the deal—you give us what we want, and we let the girl go."

Roy's heart sank. He knew they couldn't trust these men, but he also knew they had no choice. "What do you want?" he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Everything," the man replied with a smirk. "Weapons, food, medicine. And we want to know who's running your base. If you cooperate and tell us what we want to know, we might even let you and your friends walk out of here or work for us ."

Troy, who had been silent until now, stepped forward, his face pale. "Please... we'll give you what you want, just don't hurt my sister."

Roy glanced at Troy, seeing the desperation in his eyes. He knew they had to play along, at least for now. "Fine," he said, turning back to the criminals. "We'll tell you everything. Just don't hurt her."

The scarred man nodded, pleased with their compliance. "Good. We'll make the arrangements in the morning. Until then, you stay here and think about what's at stake."

As the criminals left, locking the door behind them, Roy felt a surge of anger and frustration. They were trapped, and the only person who could help them now was Hector.

Hector's POV

Meanwhile, in a secluded corner of the station, Hector was frantically trying to stop Hruday's bleeding. The bullet had lodged deep, and Hruday was pale and clammy, his breathing shallow. Hector ripped a strip of cloth from his own shirt, pressing it into the wound to stem the bleeding.

Hruday let out a muffled scream, biting down on another piece of cloth that Hector had shoved into his mouth to silence him. The pain was excruciating, radiating through his body like fire. He could barely think, but he knew they couldn't stay here much longer. They were vulnerable, and the criminals were closing in.

Through the haze of pain, Hruday forced himself to focus. "Hec...tor..." he gasped, struggling to get the words out. "I... have a plan..."

Hector leaned in closer, his face etched with concern. "What is it?"

"We... pretend..." Hruday's vision blurred, and he fought to stay conscious. "You... military... offer them... a deal..."

Hector frowned, not fully understanding. "You're saying I should pretend to be military?"

Hruday nodded weakly, the effort draining the last of his strength. "Say... you rescued me... they'll... they'll buy it... promise them positions... safety... with that, he took his few last breaths before going into deep slumber"

Hector's mind raced. It was a long shot, but it was the only shot they had. He finished binding Hruday's wound as best he could, then stood up, steeling himself for what he had to do.

The rain had stopped, but the night was still thick with tension. Hector took a deep breath, gripping the revolver he'd taken from the dead officer. The weapon was empty, but the criminals didn't need to know that.

Hector made his way through the station, the sound of zombies scratching at the windows a constant reminder of the danger outside. As he approached the main hallway, he saw the criminals huddled together, talking in hushed tones. They turned as he entered, their eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Who the hell are you?" the scarred man demanded, raising his gun.

Hector didn't flinch, holding his revolver steady. "Name's Hector. I'm with the military," he said, his voice calm and authoritative. "I was separated from my unit while dealing with a horde. I managed to rescue a civilian who was caught in the crossfire. We need medical attention and a place to regroup."

The criminals exchanged glances, clearly unsure of what to make of him. "If you're military, where's your uniform? And why the hell are you using a police revolver?" one of them asked, his tone skeptical.

Hector smirked, letting out a dry laugh. "Uniform? Do you think I had time to change into my dress blues while zombies were chewing on my squad? And as for the gun, my military issue ran out of ammo hours ago. and I don't like to carry dead weights Hector said as he looked at hruday and said "Tich"" Except this one is useful"

he took a breath "And This was the first thing I could grab." Hector felt saying this was a little overkill and would make them suspicious of his nervousness at the end 

The scarred man wasn't convinced. "You expect us to believe that?"

Hector took a step forward, his eyes locking onto the man's. "Believe it or don't, it doesn't change the fact that I'm your best chance of getting out of this shithole alive. I've got connections and supplies, and I can get you a spot at the new base being set up. All you have to do is play along."

The criminals hesitated, their confidence wavering, and said what do you mean by play along another one asked is the military setting up base here.

Hector saw the doubt in their eyes and pressed on not answering the second question to show that it was obvious and dumb question and he wasn't bothered to answer if he had it would have shown his nervousness. "Here's the deal: you tell anyone who asks that you were rescued by me and the civilian after a misfire. You get a cushy spot in the new base—cooks, scout leaders, whatever you want. You cross me, and you're on your own with the rest of the scum outside."

and when would the army come? Hector said they wouldn't come looking for a dead man we need to go there by mid-day they are stationed near the Paladin Paradise apartment 

so is that a new base Hector said hell no what do you think military is that small we are just the first Company our duty is to secure the mission compound entirely including this police station but for that first, we need to set up base in the missionary hospital or near its dorm for headquarters you guys will either work as cook or scout leader I can't put you anywhere else and no more questions and demands 

The scarred man stared at Hector for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, he nodded slowly. "We'll think about it," he said cautiously. "But we're not making any promises."

Hector nodded, maintaining his calm facade. "You've got until morning," he said, turning to leave. "But make no mistake—we're running out of time."

As Hector walked away, he could feel their eyes on him, the tension in the air palpable. He knew he had bought them some time, but not much. They needed a way out, and they needed it fast.

 Later That Night 

Hector couldn't sleep, knowing that the criminals might try to kill or steal his gun while he rested. He stayed vigilant, listening to the rain as it finally tapered off, leaving a cold, damp silence in its wake.

Roy who saw hector was about to scream to warn him but then he saw Hector's fingers crossed as the torch was suspiciously focused on his fingers and Hector looked at him straight face not reacting at all seeing Hector had a gun and apparently he was a military officer leading a company roy laughed his voice muffled hruday cooked well

then he saw hruday unconscious and with blooded clothes he felt worried did he get stabbed? no! he must be shot!! we need to get out of hear quickly but Hector seems relaxed it must be stab right clam down roy calm down 

the criminals approached them and said you must have heard it right

Roy had made sure to convey to Tory not to say a thing 

Roy said to the criminals I have heard the deal you won't bother us and give me a position because ii am the leader of my base 

Roy felt a little regret he didn't say it right but he had already shot his arrow nothing could be done 

surprisingly criminals did not suspect anything and agreed 

 Morning 

The rain had finally stopped by the time Hector returned to Hruday, who was barely conscious, his face pale and sweat-soaked. Hector gently shook him awake, careful not to jostle his injured side.

"Hruday," Hector whispered, "we've got a problem."

Hruday groaned, his eyes fluttering open. "What... now?" he muttered, his voice weak.

"The criminals," Hector explained, "they're still not sure if they can trust me. I managed to buy us some time, but we need to act fast."

Hruday nodded weakly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "What's... the plan?"

Hector took a deep breath. "I'm going to convince them that we need to move to the roof to see where my battalion is and go there. Once we're up there, I'll push them off into the horde. Then we'll get Roy and the others and get the hell out of here."

Hruday managed a faint smile. "Sounds... like a plan."

Hector helped Hruday to his feet, supporting him as they made their way back through the station. The air was thick with tension as they approached the criminals, who were waiting in the main hallway.

"We need to talk," Hector said, his tone serious. "But not here. The roof is safer, and we can see what we're dealing with outside."

As they ascended to the roof, Hector kept his revolver ready, the criminals' suspicions evident in their wary glances. Once on the roof, Hector didn't hesitate. In one swift motion, he lunged forward, shoving the scarred man off the roof. The man's scream was cut short as he plummeted into the horde of zombies below. The other criminals barely had time to react before Hector was on them, knocking them off balance and sending them over the edge as well.

Breathing heavily, Hector watched as the zombies swarmed the fallen men, their screams echoing in the early morning air. He turned and quickly made his way back down to the station, where Roy and the others were still trapped.

As he approached the holding area, he heard Roy shout, "Hec—!" but the warning was cut off when Hruday raised his hand, signaling him to stay quiet.

Hector moved quickly, his empty revolver still in hand. The remaining criminals were caught off guard, and their confidence shattered after seeing their leaders fall. Hector used the revolver to intimidate them, forcing them to open the cell and release Roy, Troy, and the others.

"We need to get out of here," Hector said urgently, helping them gather supplies. "The zombies will break through any moment."

They moved swiftly, avoiding the remaining zombies and making their way out of the station. As they stepped out into the cold, damp morning, the weight of their escape hung heavily on them.

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Author note: Guys just for your info I am giving out the military size and its name lists

Smaller Units

Squad: Typically 8-10 soldiers.

Section: Usually 10-20 soldiers.

Platoon: Around 30-50 soldiers.

Larger Units

Company: Approximately 100-250 soldiers.

Battalion: Roughly 400-1,200 soldiers.

Regiment: Can vary greatly, but often several thousand soldiers.

Brigade: Usually 3,000-5,000 soldiers.

Division: Typically 10,000-20,000 soldiers.

Corps: Composed of two or more divisions.

Army: A large force of soldiers, often hundreds of thousands.