Military Base
Inside the dimly lit command room of the military base, a group of officials sat around a large table covered with maps and reports. Captain Evans, a stern-looking man with graying hair, stared at the scattered intelligence reports that painted a bleak picture.
"The supply situation is worse than we thought," one of the officers said, breaking the silence. "Every time our teams go out, they find nothing. The towns are empty, and the zombies… they're moving differently."
Another officer chimed in, "It's like someone's gathering everything before we get there. But who could pull that off? It's not like zombies care about supplies."
Captain Evans rubbed his temples. "Someone has to be behind this. Maybe it's a group of survivors monopolizing everything. If that's the case, they're doing a hell of a job keeping it secret. Our men haven't found a trace of them."
The tension in the room thickened. Supplies were running low, and desperation was creeping in. If they couldn't restock soon, the base would be in serious trouble. Worse, whispers of infighting among the civilians had started—people accusing each other of hoarding or stealing.
One officer leaned forward, his voice low. "Sir, we've also heard reports of other military bases running into the same issue. Missing supplies, strange zombie behavior… It's spreading."
Evans slammed his fist on the table. "We need to figure this out before the entire base collapses. Whatever's causing this, we need to find it and stop it."
As they plotted their next move, no one noticed the ominous dark clouds gathering on the horizon—an early sign of the coming zombie wave.