Page 27 of Redemption
Now.
That bunker is the only chance we have to survive the next hour. Without it, we’re all fucked. I swallow hard, jerk myhead, and grit my teeth as I forcibly push the remainder of my team forward. “GO! GO! GO!”
Everyone places a hand on the man’s shoulder in front of him, guiding and maintaining the connection so we don’t lose anyone else.
We’re almost there. Just another block away.
We need to make it.
We have to.
We have no other choice.
There’s only survive or die.
NiccolòMachiavelli once said, “The greatest sign of an impending loss is when one does not believe one can win.”
I will not lose.
Not today.
Today, in this final stand, we will make it.
Not another one of my men will fall. I will not allow it.
We pick up the pace, sprinting the remaining distance as the building finally comes into view—the access point. Waverly charges forward, leading us all to the entry. He barrels into the door and opens it, ushering every last one of our mangled squad in. I wait at the entrance, searching for any more survivors we could save, but see nothing but an endless sea of death. With a resigned slump of my shoulders, I give the signal. As one, they turn, entering the darkened space while I shut out the world with a definitive click.
∞∞∞
We’ve been holding down the fort for a few days now. Our bunker, while it’s not as fully stocked as it should be, does have some rations. Enough to keep the group satiated for at least a little while. But there’s one vital thing—more important right now than food—that’s noticeably missing: A functional ventilation system.
Apparently, this particular bunker didn’t have or didn’t pass its latest inspection. Which, unfortunately, forces us to keep the hatch open in order to breathe down here, all while the hostile takeover is still lingering out there.
Waiting.
Hunting.
We’re one hundred feet below the surface, which hides our presence, but we learned the second night we were down here that the infected still exhibit cognitive motor function. Even if we didn’t keep the door slightly ajar to bring air down the stairwell, they’ve figured out how to open the hatch and find us, regardless. Whether it be by sense of smell or by simply hearing us down here, the hostiles have found us more than a handful of times since we’ve come down here to ride out the invasion. For this reason, we’ve chosen to operate with a rotating sentry duty, monitoring the cracked doorway and terminating the hostiles when they’re close enough to fuck around and find out.
I still my movement, waiting for the all clear from upstairs. I was heading back from doing inventory of the meager amounts of rations remaining in the storage roomwhen Corporal Wiengard called out. He’s up there with Lance Corporal Bulwark. The irony of their names and their current positions, not lost on me at all.
Names.
The military is full of them, but no one ever calls each other by their first names. It’s unnecessary when everyone’s last names are affixed onto their uniforms. The only ones who ever made me divert from the commonplace protocol were my previous fire team. Although I still find myself referring to them by their surnames on occasion. Old habits die hard, I guess.
My eyes start to glaze over with remembrance of my battle buddies turned chosen family, but I shut that shit down before I lose myself. I can’t let myself think of them. Not now. Not during this shit. I can’t afford to. I need to keep everyone down here safe, including me. Especiallyme if I want to get out to find them... andher.
It's been over eight years. I know she’s no longer mine and might not even need me to find her. To save her. For all I know, she could be married by now and have all the safety and security she could ever need.
Or... she could be….
I grimace, shaking my head and ridding myself of the negativity.
No. Not going to think about that. Focus, dammit.
The cramped bunker is filled with suffocating, frenetic energy. We’re all charged up, ready to go—death and destruction, finely tuned at the tip of a broadsword—but we smother down the rising tide of kill or be killed.
Survival is key.
