Inside the steel confines of the military base, tension ran high. A small group of officials sat around the large conference table, illuminated by the cold, artificial lighting. Colonel Briggs, a man who had seen the rise and fall of many systems, leaned forward, resting his chin on his clasped hands.
"Let's hear it," he commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority and frustration.
Lieutenant Marshall stood first, his face pale and taut. "Sir, it's as we feared. The last three supply runs we sent out… none of them made it back. They've either gone missing or been wiped out. No trace of the trucks or the goods we sent with them."
The room fell silent. A creeping sense of dread clung to every corner. Supplies were already running low, and each failed mission brought them closer to the brink of starvation.
"Wiped out by zombies?" Major Harris asked, a sharp edge in her voice. She sat upright, her eyes never leaving the lieutenant.
"There are no signs of attacks, ma'am," Marshall responded. "No bodies, no blood, just… gone."
Harris leaned back, crossing her arms. "So, either they were taken by someone—or something we haven't seen yet. Or they abandoned their posts and went rogue."
Briggs slammed a fist onto the table, the sound echoing through the room. "Rogue or not, we can't afford to lose more men. And supplies are dwindling."
An uneasy murmur spread across the room. Major Harris cut through the noise, her voice clear. "Sir, it's more than just our supply teams. Reports are coming in from the smaller towns and other bases, too. Some are saying entire areas are being emptied of resources—like someone's cleaning them out completely."
The murmur grew louder, the implications sinking in.
"You're suggesting a systematic attack," Briggs growled, his face grim.
"I'm suggesting something worse," Harris replied. "These aren't random hits or raids. Whoever—whatever is doing this—they're organized. We've seen raider groups, but none of them are this precise, this efficient."
A man at the far end of the table, a civilian liaison named Greg, who oversaw local supply distribution, cleared his throat. "Colonel, if I may. Could it be another military faction? Maybe some group outside of our control trying to monopolize resources?"
Briggs' face remained stern. "Possible. But not likely. We'd have heard about any nearby factions by now. And the fact that it's happening in multiple areas at once... No, this is different."
"The zombies are changing," Harris added. "The mutants, at least. They're getting smarter, and if they've started organizing..."
Greg scoffed. "You're saying zombies are hoarding supplies? They don't even eat normal food. They go after brains."
"They don't need food," Harris said sharply. "But we do. If they're smart enough to figure that out, they could be taking supplies just to weaken us."
Briggs rubbed his temples. The headache this conversation was giving him was nothing compared to the reality they were facing. "We'll keep sending out scouting parties, smaller and more cautious this time. We can't afford to lose another large group."
As the meeting came to a close, an eerie silence settled. The officials left the room one by one, leaving behind only the sense of impending disaster. What none of them said aloud was what weighed heaviest: if the zombies were smart enough to starve them out, humanity's time was running out.