Apocalypse Shelter Administrator

Terracorp (2)

[Six hours remain until sunset. I’ll keep track every 30 minutes.]

In general, infected creatures tend to become more active at night, although the ones inside buildings don’t seem to change much based on the time of day. It’s unclear if this is due to light, temperature, or some inherent aspect of the infection.

I checked the facility layout I downloaded after authorization as Commander.

“Let’s see.” I quickly worked out a plan for raiding the place.

[You seem excited.]

Artemis remarked, observing me through the shoulder cam.

“Feels like how a soccer player must feel during a legendary match.”

[Odd analogy.]

I divided the team into three groups.

“Team 2, secure the area near Hangar B.”

“Roger,” a deep voice responded, and three robots moved down the main corridor.

“Team 3, head to Quality Control in Hangar C for blueprints of production models. Also, locate the subcontractor lists in Production Management over in Hangar D. Focus on invoices and expense reports.”

The subcontractors for a helicopter factory would be treasure troves of premium materials. Not the sort of things that refugees can use, and the government wouldn’t have the resources to commandeer materials from small companies. They’re likely left untouched.

As we gather records of deliveries, quantities, and addresses, we can estimate which places will be worthwhile for the squad to target.

“I’ll work on securing our escape route.”

Two robots fell in line behind me.

We need multiple escape options, not just the route we entered through. It’s essential but relatively safe compared to other tasks.

Thirty minutes passed as we conducted the search, and occasionally, muffled gunfire could be heard from other sections.

[Wait, check the corridor, thirty meters ahead on the left.]

Artemis ordered, having spotted something through the shoulder cam. At the designated spot, we found a soldier’s corpse. Just a hand sticking out from under the door—easy to miss, but nothing escapes her eyes.

[About two centimeters of camo pattern was visible.]

The shoulder cam tilted up and down as if it were nodding. I gave it a light pat in response.

[Hey, what was that for?]

She jostled the cam side to side, like shaking off my hand.

The soldier’s body appeared to have crawled here, injured, only to succumb soon after. A trail of dried blood led off in one direction. Following it, I came across another soldier’s body, eventually arriving at what seemed to be the personnel holding room.

This area was used to distribute workers from buses to designated locations. It looked like the guards made their last stand here, as the room was filled with heavily decayed soldiers’ remains.

[These soldiers weren’t killed by infected.]

Artemis observed and analyzed the state of the bodies.

“It was a grenade.” I picked up a skull, partially broken, with a fragment embedded above the eye socket—a shrapnel piece from a fragmentation grenade.

“The entrance is barricaded…”

The door was fully shuttered, barricaded with assorted debris. The path we entered from seemed open, perhaps forced by a soldier fleeing the blast, though he ultimately succumbed to his injuries. There were bullet holes in the walls, spent shell casings covering the floor, yet no signs of any pitched firefight. It looked like one grenade had dealt a devastating blow.

An accident by a green recruit?

[Instant deaths for all in the vicinity.]

Artemis noted. She indicated the site, scattered with bones as if by explosion. The grenade must have detonated at the center.

“Student soldiers.”

Picking up a damaged rifle from amid the bones, I recognized the standard-issue K2. Though they held the rank of enlisted soldiers, student conscripts received reserve-grade equipment. I didn’t need to inspect their gear further. I’ve seen enough remains to know the bones of teenagers when I see them.

[These soldiers ranged from around sixteen to eighteen.]

Artemis said after a quick scan.

“Yeah…”

Just beside the blast’s epicenter lay a stretcher with a mostly intact skeleton on it. The other soldiers around it may have shielded the occupant from the explosion’s impact, leaving the bones largely undisturbed.

[These soldiers may have survived the initial blast but likely died from blood loss or shock.]

Further along, a few other bodies appeared to have crawled to the room’s edges before finally succumbing. Most had their limbs badly injured; one had no lower body left.

[There’s an intact helmet cam here. Let’s check the footage.]

It was on the corpse of a captain with his torso twisted and lying on the ground. I detached the cam and played the stored footage.

***

The beginning of the footage showed the military in full control.

A refugee camp sprawled outside the factory, with soldiers overseeing the distribution of aid and medical supplies. The scenes repeated in similar fashion, only with each day showing more tents and the refugees growing more ragged in appearance.

Then, the footage cut, only to resume amid a fierce battle.

The refugee camp was in chaos, while soldiers held a desperate defensive line at the factory entrance. The captain, owner of the cam, had a communications officer by his side, urgently trying to establish contact.

“Captain, still no response!” the young soldier said. Barely out of adolescence, the boy’s rank was private, with acne marking his face.

“Keep trying, whether it works or not. You don’t need to fire a single shot; just stay on that radio until we die. If you get through, we live; if not, we’re all dead.” The captain spoke coldly and slid in his last magazine.

Even in those few words, the agony of the soldiers on the front line could be heard. Their screams grew louder, drawing ever closer.

The communications officer gritted his teeth and clutched the receiver. He kept trying, again and again, tirelessly attempting to make contact.

Click!

Having fired his last round, the captain reached for the magazines attached to the communications officer’s vest, taking all he could carry.

“Captain?!”

The shocked communications officer looked up, only to meet the captain’s cold stare.

“What are you doing?”

"Huh? Oh, no, I misheard."

The captain pressed the receiver hard against the operator's ear with his voice cracking through the static. But the captain didn’t let up, grinding it into the operator's ear until it flushed bright red.

In peacetime, such conduct would be considered abuse, but no one was concerned with that now.

"I told you to focus on communications until you drop dead if necessary—no need to even fire a shot. Did you forget that already?"

"I’m sorry."

Meanwhile, the front line continued to deteriorate. Just as the crumbling ranks neared collapse, communication was restored.

"We did it!"

The captain, mid-fire, dashed over and snatched up the receiver.

"Loyalty! Requesting immediate retreat ord—what?"

Any hint of hope in his icy voice quickly turned to horror. The operator, startled by the flying receiver, fumbled before catching it.

"Gas!!!!!!"

The captain shouted toward the front line.

"Gaaassss!!!!!!"

He yelled again with his voice so hoarse after only two shouts that he started coughing.

"Gas?"

The operator looked at the captain, bewildered.

"Gas!!!!! Gas!!!!! G…as."

Vrooom—!

The captain's voice faded as he noticed the bomber suddenly appearing behind the factory. Then came a sound, faint yet distinctly present in the chaos of screams, growls, gunfire, and explosions.

Click.

The sound of a bomb arming. Two fat bombs dropped from beneath the bomber. The bombs flew forward with momentum but rocked wildly from air resistance, like a top about to collapse.

The camera followed the captain’s gaze, scanning the surroundings. But there wasn’t a single soldier wearing a gas mask. All were too focused on shooting the creatures charging at them, intent on tearing and shredding their comrades.

"Gas! Gas! Gaaaas!!!! Dammit! Put on your masks, you idiots!!!"

With that, the captain donned his mask, and the stunned operator followed suit after a slap across the face. The other soldiers finally began to follow their example, putting on their masks.

But those fighting on the front lines couldn’t do so. Whether they didn’t hear the captain’s warning amid the deafening battle, or they had forgotten that "gas!" was a warning from their MOPP training, only God knows.

Vrooom!

A total of six bombs from additional bombers dropped in the thick of the battle.

Thunk!

Clang!

With a loud clang, the bombs struck but didn’t ignite in flames or fire. Most soldiers assumed, for a moment, they were duds. But could all six bombs possibly be duds?

The truth was that the bomber pilots had dropped them with delayed fuses to give troops who might not have heard the chemical warning a fighting chance. Unfortunately, the boys on the battlefield, with just ten days of training, didn’t know the painted missiles indicated chemical warheads.

Moments later, thick green gas exploded outward, instantly consuming nearby infected creatures and filling the air with horrific cries that echoed across the battlefield. The monsters’ coughing and retching noises were truly grotesque.

The gas temporarily stalled the crumbling front line, but the problem was that it rapidly approached the soldiers’ position. Some soldiers, unaware of the approaching gas in the intensity of the fight, were soon engulfed by the dark green cloud.

Soon, they were screaming along with the monsters. Soldiers positioned farther back had a clearer view of the unfolding situation.

The issue? It takes around ten seconds to put on a gas mask, while the infected creatures could reach and tear into them faster than that. Should they risk being shredded while putting on their masks? Or fight the monsters and face a painful death by gas?

It was a grim choice.

The soldiers were divided. Most abandoned the fight, opting for their masks immediately. A few, however, chose to forgo the mask and continue fighting. The machine gunner caught on camera was one such soldier.

Even as those around him donned their masks, he kept his finger on the trigger, determined to protect his comrades until the green gas engulfed him.

The video abruptly cut out before resuming from inside the factory where the troops had fallen back. The infected creatures’ savage screams continued outside. The dying cries of those consumed by the gas mingled with the shrieks of infected and wounded alike, but those faded quickly.

The monsters, now fewer in number, roamed the battlefield, searching for survivors. Around ten trembling soldiers, all wearing masks, remained huddled together.

"Keep moving! Don’t just stand there—stack anything heavy!" The captain barked orders as they barricaded the entrance.

“Hrrg…ghak…”

A soldier on a stretcher moaned in agony. He was the selfless gunner who had fired until the end and gave his comrades time to don their masks. Somehow, his comrades had carried him into the building, but he was barely alive.

Vomit filled his mouth, spilling down his cheeks, while his eyes, ruptured with burst blood vessels, glowed red. Losing control of his bodily functions, he lay in a pool of vile excrement.

“Hrrg…ghak…” With every cough, a mix of blood and vomit sprayed into the air.

"H…lp…me… m…ercy…" He begged, with tears and snot running down his face, but no one was listening.

The poor boys around him were paralyzed with fear. The monsters would soon breach the door, the battlefield had become hellish, they didn’t know if their families were even alive, and there were no reinforcements. Most had lost their grip on reality.

"H…lp…" The machine gunner muttered helplessly, but his words faded into emptiness. After ten agonizing seconds, suddenly, shouting and gunshots rang out.

Bang! Bang!

Two shots, and a sergeant, looking stunned, gazed down at the fallen machine gunner he'd just shot.

A grenade rolled from the dead soldier's side and all eyes fixed on it. The safety pin was gone.

"Get down!" The captain’s last shout echoed before the camera showed the machine gunner’s face one last time.

"Finally… some peace."

His expression was serene with a single-minded wish for relief etched across his face.

Boom!!!

The grenade exploded, and with it, the meaningful part of the footage ended. Afterward, only faint moans gradually faded in the background of the monotonous footage.

I put down the camera and approached the corpse on the stretcher.

"Sigh…"

The cruel truth about war is right here. If altruism costs dearly in everyday life, war is where it’s magnified. It accumulates until everyone becomes a victim.

[Let’s go. There’s nothing left for us here.]

Artemis urged me.

As I left the room, I glanced back one last time. The machine gunner lay motionless on the stretcher.

It wasn’t a good ending, but I don’t blame him. He was a brave soldier who faced down horror itself. He just couldn’t bear its agony.