The next day, soldiers from Reconnaissance Company, formerly known as Company C, stood at attention in front of John.
He had decided to replace the name due to the recent restructuring; with Companies B and D no longer existing, it felt pointless to continue using the designation "Company C."
John gathered 100 soldiers from Reconnaissance Company for a specific purpose that day. "Earlier today, our drone conducted a survey of an area 120 kilometers away from the base and detected human signatures," he began, capturing their full attention. "The drone has been trailing these signatures for a few hours and has led us to what appears to be a ruined town, home to a group of over 100 people who may have survived the horde."
He paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in. "Your task is to make contact with the surviving locals and convince them to transfer to Havenbrook for their safety. We need to assess their situation and offer them a chance to join us."
John continued, "This mission will require tact and diplomacy. We're not just looking for recruits; we're offering them a new home. I want each of you to approach this with respect and understanding."
The soldiers nodded, determination etched on their faces. "Prepare for deployment," he concluded. "You all will be airlifted and provided with vehicles in this mission. We'll brief you on the specifics and set out as soon as you're ready."
After an hour of meticulous preparation, the soldiers of the Reconnaissance Battalion assembled at the designated landing zone. The whir of helicopter blades filled the air as five CH-47 Chinooks descended, their massive rotors creating a gust that whipped through the trees. Accompanying them were four UH-60M Black Hawks, providing escort and ensuring air superiority during the operation.
The soldiers efficiently loaded their gear into the Chinooks, their faces a mix of excitement and determination. As the last of the troops boarded, John gave a final nod to the pilots, signaling for takeoff.
The Chinooks lifted off, and the battalion settled in for the journey, peering out at the landscape below as they soared over the terrain. The green hills and forests quickly faded into the distance, replaced by the vast expanse of the world they had yet to explore.
"Stay alert and ready for anything," one of the officers reminded the troops, ensuring that everyone understood the mission's significance.
As the helicopters flew closer to their destination, the anticipation grew, and the men and women prepared themselves for the task ahead.
...
The helicopters touched down with a thud, kicking up dust and debris as the blades whirred to a stop. As soon as the CH-47 Chinooks settled on the ground, the soldiers sprang into action.
With practiced efficiency, they unloaded their gear and formed a tight perimeter around the landing zone, scanning the area for any signs of danger. The atmosphere was tense, heightened by the knowledge that they were entering a potentially volatile situation.
"Secure the area!" barked one of the squad leaders, his voice cutting through the air. The soldiers quickly fanned out, taking cover behind any available natural barriers—trees, rocks, and the remnants of crumbled buildings that dotted the landscape.
John coordinated the movement from a vantage point, ensuring that each team was positioned effectively. He watched as the troops settled into their roles, weapons ready, eyes sharp. Their objective was clear: establish a secure perimeter, gather intelligence, and initiate contact with the survivors.
Once the area was secured, John signaled for the reconnaissance teams to advance towards the ruins, carefully keeping their formation as they moved deeper into the town. The sound of their boots crunching on the gravel was the only noise breaking the stillness of the abandoned surroundings.
As they approached the weathered gate of the ruined town, a soldier stepped forward, his voice echoing in the eerie silence. "Is anyone here? Please respond!"
The words hung in the air, met with a tense stillness. The soldiers exchanged glances, each one gripping their weapons tightly, hearts pounding in anticipation.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, a figure emerged from the shadows beyond the gate. A gaunt man, dirty and ragged, stepped hesitantly into view, his eyes wide with fear and curiosity. "Who are you?" he called out, his voice trembling.
"We are from Fort Sentinel!" the soldier responded, trying to project reassurance despite the gravity of the situation. "We're here to help. We mean no harm. We want to talk."
As the soldier introduced himself, saying he was from Fort Sentinel, the man's confusion was evident. "Fort Sentinel? I've never heard of that place. Is it a kingdom?"
Despite his uncertainty, a flicker of hope crossed his face at the sight of fellow humans. "It's good to see others out here," he said, his voice steadier now.
Just then, more figures began to emerge from the dilapidated houses, drawn by the man's call. Men, women, and children cautiously stepped into view, their expressions a mix of wariness and curiosity.
"Help is here!" the man shouted, his voice rising with excitement. "They come from a place called Fort Sentinel! They're not monsters!"
The crowd hesitated, exchanging anxious glances as they assessed the soldiers in their tactical gear. Some of the children clutched their parents' legs, peeking out from behind them.
The soldier stepped forward again, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. "We're not here to harm you. We understand you've been through a lot. We want to help you find safety at Havenbrook."
A woman with weary eyes stepped forward, her arms protectively wrapped around a small child. "Havenbrook? What is that?"
"It's a newly built community where people we have saved are coming together to survive," the soldier explained. "We have food, shelter, and protection. But we need to act quickly before the monsters might return."
Without any fuss, everyone agreed to join the soldiers. To expedite the process, the soldiers quickly joined the locals in packing up their belongings. They worked side by side, efficiently gathering what little they had left.
As they moved through the town, the soldiers came across a chilling sight: hundreds of dead bodies sprawled across the ground, lying in pools of dark, congealed blood. The remnants of a recent battle, they were a grim reminder of the horrors the survivors had faced.
The soldiers exchanged somber glances, their hearts heavy with the weight of the loss. They took pity on the fallen, recognizing that these were not just victims; they were lives cut short by the relentless horde.
One soldier knelt beside a body, whispering a quiet prayer, while others looked on in silence, the gravity of the situation settling heavily upon them. "These people fought hard," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to honor them, even in death."
The locals watched the soldiers with a mix of gratitude and sorrow, feeling a connection to these new allies who not only offered help but also showed respect for the lives lost in their struggle.
With a renewed sense of purpose, the soldiers and locals continued packing up, their movements infused with a sense of urgency tempered by the somber reality of their surroundings.
...
One soldier spotted a girl walking away from him, her shoulders hunched as she moved slowly through the debris. He called out to her repeatedly, but she remained unresponsive, her gaze fixed on the ground.
The sight caught the attention of a nearby couple, who turned to look. When they recognized her, tears welled up in their eyes. It was their daughter—the little girl they thought had perished during the chaos when the monsters invaded their home.
The woman, presumed to be the girl's mother, rushed forward, calling out her daughter's name. She swept the girl into a tight embrace, followed closely by the father, who joined in the heartfelt reunion.
However, the soldier did not feel the same way despite the heartfelt moment unfolding before him, the soldier felt a sense of unease.
As he observed the girl more closely, they noticed that her body was covered in a dark, viscous goo, glistening ominously in the sunlight.
Her clothes were torn and stained, and there were multiple wounds scattered across her skin, each one a grim reminder of the horrors she had endured. The most distressing sight was a bone protruding from her toe, a clear indication of severe injury.
He was about to call out when the mother screams in pain.
...
Back at the command center, a woman was sprinting toward the command and control room. She was Dr. Emily Carter from the research division, one of the lead scientists responsible for analyzing the remains of the Terragnath. Her face was pale, and a look of urgency marked her features.
As she entered the room, she immediately caught John's attention. "We have a serious problem," she said, her voice trembling with intensity. "Our analysis of the Terragnath's blood reveals a horrifying discovery."
Dr. Carter took a deep breath before continuing. "We found that the blood contains a previously unidentified pathogen. It appears to be a highly contagious mutation, which we are tentatively calling 'Frenzy Virus.' This virus interacts with a creature's immune system in a unique way, causing a hyper-activation of their adrenal glands."
She paused, gauging the reaction of the personnel in the room. "Essentially, once infected, the creature undergo a rapid horrific physical and physiological transformation. Their bodies enter a state of heightened aggression and strength, driven by an overwhelming urge to attack anything in sight—this is what we observed in the Terragnath specimens and our test subjects."
Dr. Carter's tone grew more serious. "The virus can spread through direct contact with infected fluids, and the symptoms can manifest within days."
John frowned, digesting the implications. "So, you're saying this pathogen could infect any living beings including our soldiers if they come into contact with any remnants or infected creatures?"
"Yes," she replied, nodding. "We need to implement immediate quarantine protocols and ensure that all personnel are aware of the risk. If this virus spreads unchecked, it could lead to chaos within our ranks. I recommend we conduct further tests to determine how to contain and neutralize it, but time is critical."
...
He was about to call out when a piercing scream tore through the air.
The soldier froze, startled, and instinctively raised his weapon, his heart pounding. He scanned the area, eyes locking on the mother who had just embraced her daughter. She screamed in pain again, and her body convulsed as if something inside her was tearing her apart.
The father, wide-eyed in terror, stumbled backward, his face drained of color. He hesitated for a split second before turning on his heel and sprinting away, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The soldier, now on high alert, edged closer, keeping his weapon trained on the young girl. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he saw the mother collapse to the ground, her body limp, blood spilling out onto the earth in thick pools.
The girl, seemingly unfazed by her mother's collapse, slowly stood up, her movements unnatural, almost mechanical. She turned to face the soldier.
What he saw made his stomach churn—her face was a grotesque sight of mutilated, mutated flesh.
Where once there had been a child's innocence, there was now a horrifying blend of misshapen skin, gaping wounds, and blackened veins pulsing beneath the surface. Blood dripped from her mouth, staining her chin and neck.
Before the soldier could issue a warning, the girl lunged at him with terrifying speed. Instinctively, he squeezed the trigger, firing several rounds into her. The bullets tore into her body, but she didn't flinch or slow down. The soldier's heart raced as she closed the distance, reaching for him with unnatural strength.
He managed to throw an elbow into her face just in time, knocking her off balance and sending her stumbling back. Without a second thought, he turned and bolted, adrenaline surging as he keyed his radio.
"Contact—" his voice was cut off by a sudden scream as something slammed into him from the side. The force of the impact knocked him to the ground, his rifle flying from his hands. He struggled to regain his senses, but before he could react, another mutated figure, wild-eyed and bloodied, was on top of him. The creature bit into his shoulder, a sharp, searing pain shooting through him.
"AAARRHHHGGHH!!" His cry echoed through the ruins, the radio still open.
The soldier's agonized scream crackled through the radios, sending a chill through the rest of the team. Instinctively, the soldiers raised their rifles, eyes darting across the ruins as they scanned for any threats. The air grew thick with tension.
"Stay sharp!" barked the leader of the operation, his voice firm but laced with urgency. He signaled to five of his men, motioning for them to move in and investigate the source of the scream. They advanced cautiously, rifles trained on the surrounding rubble and bushes.
But they didn't make it far.
Without warning, grotesque creatures—twisted, malformed figures with gaping wounds and black goo seeping from their bodies—burst from the bushes and debris. Their once-human forms had been ravaged by the infection, turning them into unrecognizable horrors. The creatures let out guttural snarls as they charged at the soldiers with unnatural speed.
"Contact! Front!" shouted one of the men, unleashing a burst of gunfire. The sudden eruption of gunfire echoed across the desolate town as the team opened fire, bullets tearing into the mutated creatures.
But the creatures were relentless. Despite taking hits, some continued their charge, pushing forward with eerie determination.
"Keep firing! Hold the line!" the leader yelled as the situation spiraled into a firefight. The soldiers spread out, taking cover behind the remnants of ruined buildings and vehicles, firing at the oncoming horde.
Rounds zipped through the air, and the ground shook under the weight of the firefight. One of the grotesque beings fell as its head was blown apart, but more kept coming, clawing and shrieking as they closed in on the soldiers.
The soldiers' radios crackled to life, and John's voice cut through the chaos, firm and urgent.
"Retreat! Possible deadly virus or pathogen infection. It's highly contagious. Retreat immediately!"
The command sent a wave of realization through the team. They exchanged tense glances, knowing the situation had just escalated from bad to worse. The creatures weren't just mutated—they were carriers of something far deadlier.
"Fall back!" the leader ordered, motioning for the men to retreat while continuing to fire at the advancing creatures. The soldiers started to pull back, maintaining their formation as they fought to cover one another.
The grotesque creatures seemed to grow more desperate, their lunges becoming more frenzied as the soldiers retreated. Despite their best efforts, one of the men was grabbed by a creature, its claws digging into his gear. A quick burst of gunfire from his squadmates took the creature down, but not before leaving a deep gash across the soldier's arm.
"Move! Move!" the leader barked, adrenaline surging through the team as they fought to escape the overrun area.
As the soldiers retreated, chaos erupted among the civilians they had come to rescue. Screams filled the air as some of the grotesque, infected people turned on the group. Desperation spread through the survivors as they frantically tried to flee, but it was too late for many.
Several civilians were caught in the frenzy. The mutated figures, faster and more vicious than before, tore through the crowd. Blood splattered as they slashed through flesh, their primal hunger driving them forward. The soldiers tried to defend them, firing off rounds into the horde, but in the confusion, many of the civilians were overwhelmed.
A mother clutching her child was yanked away, her scream piercing the air before being abruptly silenced. An elderly man who had survived the horrors of the horde fell to the ground as a grotesque creature dragged him into the shadows. Others scattered, trying to find safety but finding only death in the chaos.
"Get the survivors to the helicopters!" the leader of the operation ordered, but there were fewer survivors now than when they had arrived.
The soldiers did what they could, guiding as many civilians as possible toward the choppers. The helicopters touched down just long enough to allow the lucky few to board. Several of the civilians who made it to the edge were dragged back by the infected, their cries for help fading into the onslaught.
As the helicopters lifted off, the remaining soldiers watched in horror, knowing they had saved some—but too many were lost. The infected creatures continued to ravage the town, their grotesque forms standing out starkly against the ruins as the soldiers and civilians flew to safety.
As the helicopters soared above the decimated town, the grim reality of what they had just faced began to sink in. Inside the choppers, it was a scene of chaos. Soldiers, who had bravely fought off the grotesque creatures, now lay writhing on the floor, clutching their wounds. Black, vein-like tendrils spread from the infected areas, pulsing unnaturally under their skin.
The civilians they had managed to rescue weren't faring any better. Some huddled in corners, terrified, while others collapsed, their bodies trembling as the same dark veins snaked across their limbs. Cries of pain and confusion filled the helicopters as the infected—both soldiers and civilians—writhed in agony.
The leader of the operation, his face grim, keyed his radio and spoke directly to John at the Command Center. His voice was tense but controlled, "Command, this is Lieutenant Carson. We've got a serious situation. Several soldiers and civilians are displaying odd symptoms. Some were bitten, scratched—now black veins are spreading from their wounds. We're heading back, but... it's not looking good. Awaiting orders."
There was a moment of silence from Command as the gravity of the situation set in. The black-veined infection was spreading fast, much faster than anyone anticipated. The leader could see the fear in the eyes of his men, and worse, the helplessness. They had no idea what they were dealing with, or how to stop it.
Lieutenant Carson kept an eye on his infected soldiers, hoping they could hold on long enough to make it back. His mind raced, thinking of containment, of how to protect the others onboard, and if there was any hope for those already been affected.
Seconds later, John's voice crackled through the radio, firm and urgent: "Understood, Lieutenant. Upon landing, everyone will be isolated immediately. We'll have med teams on standby. Keep them calm, and don't take any chances with the infected."
...
Upon landing back at Fort Sentinel, strict quarantine measures were immediately enforced. The helicopters touched down in an isolated area far from the main facilities, and medical personnel, fully suited in biohazard gear, awaited the returning team.
Soldiers and civilians alike were quickly ushered into temporary containment units—large, sealed tents equipped with advanced decontamination chambers.
Everyone who had been exposed to the grotesque creatures or showed signs of injury was separated from the others.
Out of the original 100 soldiers and 100+ civilians, only 40 soldiers and 25 civilians emerged unscathed with 52 others in various conditions.
These survivors, despite being shaken and exhausted, were put through extensive health screenings to ensure they showed no signs of infection.
Those who were bitten, scratched, or otherwise injured, were immediately confined to high-risk quarantine, their bodies already showing signs of the spreading infection—black veins creeping further up their limbs.
John watched the process from the Command Center, his face hard but focused. The situation had escalated faster than he expected. He received the final report from the quarantine team.
Out of the infected, the situation was grim—many were deteriorating quickly, their vital signs dropping as the black, vein-like tendrils continued to spread. The research division had been working tirelessly to understand the mutation they had uncovered, but there was no immediate solution in sight.
John keyed the comms, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation. "Everyone in quarantine stays there. No exceptions. Keep a close eye on the unscathed and double-check for any delayed symptoms. I want daily reports on all infected personnel. This isn't over yet."
He leaned back, the weight of the decision heavy on his shoulders. He knew this could spread further if not handled properly. Containment was now his top priority.
But deep down, he feared what was happening to those soldiers and civilians still trapped within the quarantine zones. This virus, or whatever it was, was nothing like they had seen before.