Ten minutes Earlier...

We arrived a couple of blocks away from the fence where Jun determined—and vouched by Charlie—it was the weakest. I parked the vehicle by the curb, got out, took a small trek toward an embankment, and found the chain-linked fence right above a one-level strip of small businesses, laundromats, cheap pizzas, electronics, bodegas, and liquor store. They didn't patrol this particular section due to the buildings acting as a moat for the embankment. Sure, they made an effort to block the narrow alleys, but they were easy to climb over, and we found a simple way through after a minute of prodding the barrier. Along the way, we took care of two vectors that wandered too close for our comfort.

We began our climb up the steep slope.

"Turn off your flashlights," Peter whispered when we approached the fence. We all did as he said. I must admit it also made my blood boil as my adrenaline spiked into overdrive.

The buildings illuminated a little of what was ahead of us up the embankment, albeit soft and lusterless. Though, I could still make out the parking lot, the large army temper tents and pavilions, and the shadowy figures of people scurrying in and out to all directions. Seeing them only made me impatient to get in there and find the others. It irked me that we never bothered to acquire a blueprint (Logan did not find any from the ones he looted from the high school), except for Jun's rough sketches, pictures, and descriptions of the exterior and Charlie's recollection of the interior, both of which was susceptible to human error: a forgotten corridor there, an extra room here, a missed corner then, a forgotten patrol over here, and so on.

We reached the fence at last. Logan took out the bolt cutters from his backpack, then picked up a fallen branch near his feet and threw it on the wall, waited for a heartbeat. It wasn't live.

"We don't have an electric fence, you know," Charlie said, amused.

"Eh. Sounds dumb not to," Logan replied.

"Do you want this to be any harder or not?"

"No?" Logan started snipping through the wires. "I was just stating the obvious, man."

"Hurry up. We don't have time for this," I said.

I was also curious why the Alphas had not bothered to electrify their fences. Either they did not have the resources to do it, or they were too arrogant to care. Then again, I noticed that they used too many vehicles, eating up their gasoline supply. Coupled with how they're maintaining an effort to run this place—all the buildings' utilities fully operational—their generators would be eating in the same supply, too. The electric fence encompassed a rather large perimeter, and if added, their supplies would dwindle out quickly.

I reckoned they were confident (or confident) enough to defend their base without resorting to electrifying their barriers. At that moment, I didn't know whether that should worry me.

It took Logan two minutes to cut a wide entry, where we could bend and roll the rest over our heads as someone crawled underneath. I went in first when the CB radio suddenly crackled to life. We all froze to listen.

"Attention, all red and green units, report to the Northwest Gate. This is a level five threat. Multiple infected hostiles were spotted two miles from the perimeter. Blue units evacuate the civs. Switch to channel four, seven, and eight per your respective units for further orders. We are under tight lockdown. I repeat, this is a level five threat. Be armed and ready."

A different voice joined. "What in the hell? We can't do a lockdown! What about the others? Some of our boys are still out there."

"Unit eighteen and nineteen are engaged with the hostiles and are actively trying to lead them away from the base. We cannot let them stumble on our doorstep."

"Do they need backup?"

"Not necessary. The priority is to maintain and hold the gates."

"Where the fuck did they come from?"

"We don't know yet."

I know, I thought. A lot of people were going to die in a few minutes. I helped Logan crawl through, followed by Charlie.

"How many did they see?"

"Unknown."

"Is it from the stadium?"

A pause. "We believe so, but we can't confirm."

A different voice joined the conversation. "Thank you, Rebecca. We'll notify Carl. All units, maintain radio contact at all times. If you need backup, hail your location, and we'll coordinate another unit to assist. Remember your training, and don't fuck it up. Now, let's get rid of these pests."

The line went out. I peered over the parking lot and found multiple people already up and moving, some running in panic, others marching with purpose. I could make out about half of those people carried weapons, which I assumed were automatic rifles. Another group then followed them; this time, they weren't wearing any militia gear of plated vests, camo, slings, or someone that looked like a cutout of a Cabela's catalog. Instead, these people wore everyday clothing, but they were armed with axes, spades, baseball bats, and pitchforks, realized these must be the civilians arming themselves as they hunkered down. They all went inside a building I had labeled #2 on Jun's map.

Once Peter crawled past the fence, we crept over a strip of open area between the fence and the main lot (thankfully, shrouded in darkness), snuck behind a trailer, peered through the window to find the interior empty.

"It's a guardhouse," Charlie said behind me. "Usually, the overseers use it to, well, oversee the prisoners working around the parking lot. That's also where they planned what's going to get scrapped, or collected, and some other stuff." Charlie's face fell. "Sometimes, I hear women there with the other lieutenants, but they were not...not making nice sounds."

"What a delightful place," Logan said sarcastically.

We kept our heads down when five armed men ran past the trailer, and they had dogs with them. Big ones, two German Shepherds, but thankfully they didn't notice us and continued leading the Alphas toward the northwest gate. I let out a deep breath when I could no longer see them.

"That was close," Peter said.

"We're way, way behind schedule," I said.

Logan scoffed. "I know! We should have been here minutes ago, trying to find Building Four already. How on earth are we going to sneak around them with everyone up and about? Charlie's map is useless now. Sorry, Charlie."

"S'okay," Charlie mumbled softly.

I tried not to remind them that the horde was supposed to arrive after we found Miguel and the others (when I tried to time it correctly) and then used the distraction to escape. Even though Jun and Alfie had released the horde right on time, as we had discussed, we, unfortunately, had to deal with the four Alphas back at the outpost. Now, we had to find them while the vectors were breaking into the mall. I hoped we all make it out alive.

"Who usually patrols here?" I asked Charlie.

"Ed and Kane, and then some spuds that got roped up with watch duty because they broke protocol or some other shit. They usually bring like two or three with them. I...they might be going to the gates now, though."

"Maybe this is our luck," Peter interjected. "Everyone's now preoccupied with dealing with the horde. I don't think they'll notice us much if we just walk casually, pretend like we belong here."

"They're gonna recognize it," Logan said.

"Nah, man. They're all stressed out about the vectors. Let them. If you don't pussy out, maybe they can't smell it on you."

"Fuck you, Gauthier."

"No, thank you."

"Come on, guys. We're sitting ducks here. Stop that," I said impatiently.

Peter had his rifle out already, scanning our surroundings in case a patrol popped up. I warned him not to shoot unless necessary. Then again, everything is necessary once we're past the walls. If we get caught, the Alphas would sound the alarm. Could they manage a two-way front battle? I hoped they'd pay attention more to the vectors than us. It would make our jobs easier.

I glanced down at Charlie's drawing. "Building Four is..."

"East." Charlie pointed. "That one right there. Next to Macy's."

It was a box-shaped building, about three-stories, more concrete than windows, draped over banners made out of bedsheets and canvas, plastering the Alphas' militia symbol—an eagle with its wings spanning upward, caught in the moment as if it's about to leap into the air. It had a pointed, mean beak, sharp-edged eyes slanted, and head slightly turned to the right. Almost wrapped around the wings were the letters "SA" which presumably was the abbreviation for Sapiens Alphas, the militia's full name. The eagle perched on top of a semi-circle, giving the entire image of the organization almost an hourglass figure.

It was the first time I had seen their symbol, one I would never forget as I fought them across the country many times in the many years to come.

I realized we had to cross the parking lot, but I could already see it emptying as more people ran for shelter in the buildings. A squad of soldiers headed westward (and heavily armed), presumably to man the walls there. I didn't want to wait for everyone to thin out, so I started moving across the lot with my head down. I did what Peter had suggested by pretending I belonged there.

Thankfully, everyone wasn't wearing uniforms (aside from the white armbands worn by the prisoners). Perhaps I could convince them that I belonged here as long as I didn't get too close. Then again, we could always try sneaking behind the trailers and cars sporadically placed around the parking lot, some of the tents, and some were supply crates. Though, these would take longer.

"I'll take the lead. Keep close," I said to the others.

There were two close calls when we crossed the parking lot, the first involved three women, but they ignored us as they rounded up a group of children huddled in a tent, scared out of their wits, and the women had led them toward one of the buildings. Apart from me feeling guilty that I was the reason why these children had that awful fear in their eyes, shimmering and wide open, the reason why probably half of them wouldn't survive tonight, and the other half orphaned. I let the hollow emptiness brushed right above the surface of my gut for a second, then smothered it deep, hopefully, forgotten, as I put distance between us.

Everything's in motion. There's nothing I could do for them. What's done is done.

The second involved a squad of Alphas, about six of them, trying to shore up the southwest corner of their fences, and miraculously, they just ran past us without getting a good look at our faces. Peter had almost raised his machete and hacked the first guy that appeared, but I placed my hand on his wrist to keep him steady. He caught the hint and relaxed, and we both watched as the squad ran past while screaming on their radio that they were coming.

A minute went past, and then we heard the gunshots.

We stopped and listened. "Uh...that seems a little too close, am I right?" Logan asked nervously. 'That must be, what, a mile away? Maybe less?"

"I didn't think they'd fail this quick," I said. I guessed counting on the Alphas holding them back for a good hour or so was just wishful thinking on my part. If Albany and a fully-trained US army couldn't handle a thousand vectors outside their gates and hold them back for an hour, then the Alphas didn't really stand a chance.

We turned around and continued to Building Four.

——

I stopped beside an open doorway. I raised my first, gesturing for the others to stop behind me. We pressed our backs against the wall as I heard movement from beyond the entrance.

The yellow lightbulb inside casted shadows through the entryway, counted at least two of them on the ground, faint but still noticeable. I only had a vague glance of what was beyond the opening, a hallway of some kind, but I could not judge how wide it was and how much space I could work with. Then again, there might be more than two guards in there. I gathered that they were the guards.

One shadow moved away from the entryway and disappeared, but fortunately, I didn't lose track of him when the two guards started talking.

"Should we come out and help?" A man asked, sounding younger.

"Nah, our boys got it. Besides, we got some important shit to do," another man replied, this one a little older.

"I don't think we should just sit around, you know? You heard what Rebecca said."

"We haven't been called out there, so we stay at our post unless you want one of the lieutenants to come to dry our ass. I ain't gonna fall because you want to join a sweep duty. And who wants to go outside the walls? Are you crazy? Why don't you sit down, have a cold beer, and maybe talk about other things to pass the time, eh?"

"But this is beyond a mere sweep. Carl's not calling most of our men to deal with it. Must be a large group moving in then."

"Would you relax? First of all, we're far away from the northwest gates. If there's trouble there, we can just shut the door and bar the gates on the second floor, take out the stairs if we have to. Easy-peasy."

"We're not gonna help?"

"Help with what? I haven't been out of these walls for more than a month, and I'd like to keep it that way. Nah, boy. Let the big leagues handle this."

A brief pause, hesitating. "What if it's the Red Wolf's doing?"

Laughter from the other. "Are you fucking kidding me? He's not magic. He can't command the infected, and he's certainly not the Devil as the others had been calling him or a wolf's bitch."

"Red Wolf."

"Bah, whatever. Sounds gay."

"The survivors say his hair's on fire, like almost lava, and some say he's only a kid. Carl put a bounty on him now. Maybe he's one of those special infected the military's on about? You know...one of those that can command the dumb ones? Do you think there's a reward if we capture him ourselves?"

"I got some advice for you, kid. The less you imagine supernatural stuff about him, the more you'd be able to kill him. He's just one man, and men can be killed."

"Ah...if you say so."

"Of course. Hey, you like Coors? How about some Bud light? Great. Here. Good catch. Ah, do you like to play cards?"

I heard the slow, methodical shift behind the wall, the chair creaking against his weight as I presumed the younger voice sat down. I reckoned the other was also sitting on a chair. I heard two distinct voices—two confirmed guards. They sounded awfully too close to the doorway, but I couldn't risk taking a peek to judge my distance between them and me.

Behind us, more gunshots rang outside the fences, but they were getting closer.

Logan and Peter readied their rifle, but I wanted to do this quietly. I gestured for them to stop and wait. I didn't want to alert the entire building if there were more guards on the other floors. Building Four had three levels, and the others could be on any of those floors.

I shifted on my spot, taking out my axe.

"Wait...hear that?" The older man asked.

I froze, cursing: shit, shit, shit, shit...

"Heard what?"

The older man stretched the silence for a few seconds, and then...

"Boo!" The older man shouted, clattering on the floor as the other screeched.

"Fuck, dude! Don't scare me like that!"

Loud, boisterous laughs emanated from the entryway. "You should have seen your face! You looked like a fucked up elephant."

"Not funny."

"Hey, maybe's that your Red Wolf coming to eat you now. Whoo!"

"Shut up, man."

Multiple gunfires erupted from afar.

"Well, that's us fighting back, at least. Just you wait and see. Those freaks are gonna be all dead tomorrow morning..."

"...And then I'll end up in clean-up duty. Shit."

"Ouch. Quite right—"

I bolted inside.

I heard the older man's voice changed and rapidly dropped, knew he saw me right away as I entered through the door, his deep voice turned high pitched at the last syllable. He sat on a chair, as I had guessed, across from a kid who looked to be around my age, mouth half-gaping, eyes bulging right at me. Then, I saw the room, some kind of a foyer, with many branching hallways connected. The only thing I noticed next was that I had a lot of space to move.

Perfect.

A mad scramble from the older man, the younger one looking oblivious to the threat behind him, and all of this lasted only for a split second before I sank the axe at the back of the young guard's head.

I felt a flicker of red entered my periphery, adrenaline coursing through my veins, the blood spurting from the wedge on the kid's skull. He dropped like a rock, keeling to the side, and brought the chair with him. The older man was on his feet, clamoring for his weapon—a revolver—sitting on a table.

He wasn't fast enough.

I kicked the table legs, knocked the entire thing off to the side, hit a wall, and made a dent on the cheap wood panel. The gun went flying. The guard leaned down, struggling to catch it in the air, but his coordination was twitchy; his fingertips managed only to touch the end of the barrel before it went past them and clattered onto the floor, sliding down the corridor twenty feet away.

I dashed forward.

Weaponless, the guard resorted to his fists, bringing up his arms to block my blows against him. But I was armed with an axe. Confident that I could bring him down, I swung my axe at him, and then he struck, catching my wrist in the air, and due to my surprise, I lost my grip on the weapon. I didn't have enough time to counter his next move.

A cold glint changed in his eyes; recognition set in. He saw my hair and gasped. He tried to headbutt me then, caught the movement just in time for me to dodge to my left, and yet his head still caught me on the shoulder, a little weaker, but it still hurt.

But with him bent slightly forward, he left himself open. I brought my knee upward, making contact with his stomach. I heard him grunt, got my knee up again, and hit him there twice; this one caused him to slack a bit, and I felt his weight shifted, growing heavy, less controlled. With him now bent over, I brought my elbows down on his shoulder blades, striking him there twice, and it didn't take long for him to collapse onto the floor.

Respite.

The moment hung for a split second.

Then, I saw it. The guard's hand had a grip on my axe on the floor; his lips twitched into a smile.

The guard swung for my feet, jumped back, and saw the blade struck the air where my ankles used to be.

So close!

I took a step back. He roared, caught eye of his abrupt movement, a giant arch of his arm as he raised and swung the