Multiple Settings Nᴇᴄʀᴏsɪs : Sᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ Fᴇᴀʀ

[ZarbofftheFirst]

Hadley Jones
​

Hadley and Ionut stood in a makeshift nurse’s area in the Medbay. They were reviewing scrounged together records from a man who was likely pre-diabetic. The man had come in because he wasn’t feeling well, and suspected it was diabetes. As they looked at the notes, a soldier came into the Medbay. He seemed in a hurry, with a worried look on his eyes masked by his steady tone.

“Doctor Jones and Albescu,” PFC. Mueller said. “First Lieutenant Flynn is requesting the assistance of your staff in a newly cleared area. Our men cleared a warehouse across the river, and we’re gaining control of the building for use as a quarantine center. The First Lieutenant wants your team to set up the quarantine center, even if it’s minimal equipment. We have 50 people who need to get cleared. He said your people were free to grab things from other buildings that are cleared later. ”

“Alright, we’ll see who we have that’s free,” Hadley said. Hadley set down the medical notes in his hand, and looked to Ionut. They both nodded and began to grabbed a handful of staff to utilize at the quarantine area:

• Tanner Bishop (Volunteer medic)
• Beau Whitaker (Nurse)
• Avery Hawthorn (Volunteer medic)

Rushing a team to immediately triage people who were or weren’t infected is more important than a thorough round of testing Hadley thought: if a person needed to be kicked out for obvious infection symptoms, having manpower on hand to do it makes it easier. It was harder to do that when the nearest soldier could be in an entirely different area.

Hadley and Ionut, with their team gathered, made their way out of the Medbay to the main road. They turned hard onto the train tracks to the train bridge. The din of distant gunfire and helicopter blades has been so engrained in Hadley’s mind that they don’t make him flinch anymore. Hadley only thinks of the mission, checking those survivors. Hadley and Ionut made it to Checkpoint Charlie in a short time. They had only brought the essentials for an examination: gloves, disinfectant, and masks. This allowed them to walk and jog at a brisk pace. The soldiers stationed at Checkpoint Charlie stepped aside, allowing a contingent of soldiers to ferry the doctors across the bridge. The sound of rubber and leather soles echoed off the bridge's steel. A lonely hymn in a quiet world where steel wheels once cla-clack cla-clacked into the cool air.

As Hadley and company went across the bridge, he stared at the town. There was an eeriness to a town in the throws of death: the lack of honking cars, birds, or people. As Hadley got closer, he saw the only people on the street were dead, or torn to pieces. Hadley looked ahead on the railroad tracks, watching as he neared soldiers. A soldier with a rifle at rest. Another soldier watching the buildings with his weapon at the ready, but the sights of his gun still at the ground. Hadley focused back to where the soldiers were leading him and his team. It was a tall and wide building with a couple floors, perfect for a quarantine building.

Hadley and company entered the side of the building, and were guided through it. Hadley fought to ignore the disintegrated face of a person clearly killed in the raid as it hung on a windowsill. They bounded down the concrete stairs until they reached the ground floor. Hadley got a glimpse of the area he and Ionut were working with: it was dirty, with dust and some smalls spills that had never been cleaned. Checking the survivors would be complicated, probably further complicated by bloody boot prints dotting parts of the floor.

Hadley looked over to Ionut and spoke, “Beau and I will keep going to the survivors who are being held. You, Tanner, and Avery can start setting up the quarantining areas. Even if it’s just cardboard boxes and tape we can live with that for now.” Hadley was eager to get to work. Time was of the essence.

Heyitsjiwon Twist

 

[Miaow]

Hattie was unaware of quite how lucky she'd been. Lucky to have made it over the bridges before they were blown... and lucky to be unconscious when they did. She'd missed the burning of bodies, her mind intoxicated by a mixture of concussion and dehydration.

She was still yet to consider how lucky she was to even be let in. A kid, collapsed at the checkpoint, wasn't exactly the best choice. Why waste all those resources keeping something alive that was trying its best to die? She didn't know who had made the executive decision to open the gates, nor had she particularly considered it. By the time she got to the bridge, both her vision and her legs were failing her. She could barely make out the shapes of the people before her, let alone the names embroidered on their breast pocket.

She hadn't exactly been the model patient, either. Once she had regained the strength to stand, she did. She demanded she walked herself wherever she needed to go, no wheelchairs or breakfast in bed. She walked herself places she didn't need to go, though the medics had drawn the line at letting her outside. As long as they could see her, she couldn't get up to that much mischief...

However, Hattie had been bending the rules since she arrived... So, while the big boss doctor was out and his medical assistants were distracted, she headed out. Fresh air was meant to be good for you, after all... though she didn't make it far. There was a pretty nice grassy spot just across from the medbay and that was all the exploring she felt like doing for now. From what she'd heard, this place was closed off to civilians, no one in, no one out. She'd have the rest of her life to explore it all... and her legs were sore.

She carefully took a seat in the grass, her back leaning against a tree.

Ionut stretched his shoulders before slapping the rear of the pickup truck. The soldier grunted before pulling away. Ionut waved goodbye before taking up the slope. He had been on his way to the refugee council meeting but Flynn's runner had caught him, just before he got on the black transit bus, and he had instead attended another meeting of sorts. He had been asked for his council on certain matters though he was not sure how his suggestions went down....

He passed a medical tent and was tempted to peek in but thought better of it. He trusted the staff within to handle themselves and he much preferred house calls. Also his favourite patient was more than likely off somewhere. He crested the slope, exhaling a long breath before breathing deep another as he marched onward. There was a flicker of something in the corner of his eye causing him to pause his step. A bootie wiggled from behind a tree. 'John' smiled, having a hunch who it might be.

"Ah. Sweet little Samca. Up to your mischief again" he said, light-heartedly as he saw Hattie behind the tree.

He leant against the tree, looking in the same direction as the young girl. She was going from strength to strength he silently mused. "I remember when I first met you Hattie. Your skin was like clay, your head a smashed melon and so much blood. When you first came here, the men on the gate thought you a Strigoi... an Infected. Luckily that was not the case"

His tone changed as he remembered walking in to the tent that day and the sorry state of Hattie. 'We feared you had resorted to drinking your own blood to stave off dehydration but I did not see blood when I looked at you. I saw fire. A raw determination to survive. I must admit it was a scary thing."

He took a breath, his tone lightening "But so was your appearance. You clean up well Samca" he joked.
A thought came to him, a point he thought best shared. "Do you know why I call you Samca, Hattie?"

"Though it is a monster of Romani legend it has hands of iron. Just like you. The moment you were strong enough, you gripped the railings of your gurney so tight and refused to let go. You were still so weak yet you lifted yourself up from your bed and on to your feet. Within days you began to walk, supporting yourself with those determined hands. And look how far you have come because of it. And you will undoubtedly go further."

"Certainly further than this tree" he laughed.

The doctor's voice initially made her jump. Given she was doing something she wasn't meant to do, it wasn't unwarranted, though he spoke with a smile and a light-hearted tone which calmed her nerves. She twisted her body to face him, the less-tender side of her head resting against the bark of the tree as he recalled meeting her for the first time... Ionut said some strange things, but she liked that. She liked learning new words... like Samca and Strigoi.

Hattie hadn't spoken about her journey yet, nor where she'd come from. When it was mentioned, she simply changed the subject. For the first day or so, she was profoundly altered. She was confused, afraid, speaking gibberish. It wouldn't be a ridiculous notion to assume she wouldn't remember it. With bruising so extensive on her forehead and face, amnesia due to head trauma was a likely consequence.

She couldn't help but smile as he continued.
"You named me after a monster?" She asked with a laugh. He was lucky she liked monsters... Many kids her age would find that offensive.
"Does it drink blood, too?"

"I heard one of the nurses say you could get muscle atrophy from not moving," She explained. Though she wasn't actually certain on how the illness worked, she had gotten the gist of it. You don't use your muscles so they lose all their strength, then they don't work anymore.
"I didn't wanna have to learn to walk again."

Though she had heard the nurses talking to other patients, it seemed she had missed them discussing rhabdomyolysis... The muscles in her legs breaking down and the components entering her blood stream, trashing her kidneys, and eventually killing her... Something she'd avoided through careful rehydration by the medical team.

"A Strigoi does. It is essentially a vampire. A Samca on the other hand spits fire. And you have plenty in your belly" he grinned.
His smile faded as Hattie explained her worry but it just as quickly returned.
"Listen to your doctors, Samca but do not worry about what they say. Your job is to get better, it is their job to worry. It keeps them sharp and on task"
He looked around, trying to offer a distraction to the girls worry. "I wonder if this is a Mar?"
The lower branches were mostly bare but he could see a few shiny crisp fruit within reach. Using a protuberance in the bark, Ionut grabbed two of the green fruit. "There is a saying about these" he said, handing over the apple "One a day, keeps the doctor away. Though I must admit as a Dentist I am not such a fan"
He grinned. "Now enough rest, Samca. Let us stretch those legs of yours. I am, finally, going to the council meeting if you would care to join me?"

A Strigoi, the word Ionut had likened to an infected. They drank blood, just like she did... Or they thought she did. She didn't remember drinking any blood. It felt like something she'd remember doing, though there were lots of things about her trip to Saco that she didn't remember. Maybe she had, maybe her brain was trying to protect her from it.

Though the kid knew what muscle atrophy was... most of her medical education had come from eavesdropping on the medical team and watching ER with her...
She smiled a little as Ionut tried to put her worries at bay. They weren't actually talking about her, anyway. It was some other patient, one who was far more willing to stay in bed than she was.

"A Mar?" She asked, looking over her head. Oh, an apple. She added that word to her list of new vocabulary...
"The green ones are my favourite," She told him with a smile.

With the offer of a council meeting, Hattie's eyes lit up. For once, she wouldn't actually be sneaking out.
"Yeah!" She grinned, pressing her hand against the tree and using it as a crutch to get to her feet.
"What sorts of things do they actually talk about?" She asked, letting him lead the way.

He smiled back, making sure to stand by the young woman in case she needed his support. "Everything and anything. It's used by many to air out their... problems with the establishment. Especially Delacroix. He is certainly a character. "

Once Hattie was stable, Ionut lead the way, keeping one step ahead of her. "I myself have no problem with Major Hodges. He has done his best with a bad situation but Delacroix... He seeks to do right by us refugees I'm sure but his ideas are... grand, let's say."

Ionut looked over his shoulder as they walked, stopping when needed for Hattie. "Marsden, Nancy, Paul and Ms Howard are some of the other influential members of the committee and like Delacroix seek to do the best they can for the civilians. They gave up their homes to house many at the beginning."

"But you can get a feel for this when we arrive. It may not be exciting but it is always interesting..."

Written in collaboration with Twist

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Lt. Flynn remained at the main Sector Alpha 5 story building that had a commanding view of the area as he coordinated efforts between the squads to fortify the new sectors. "Saco 1 Actual, this is CP Charlie. Escorting Doctor Jones over to the collection point, over." Flynn replied "Solid copy, CP Charlie. Sgt. Hunter, maintain over watch and report anything unusual. Saco 1 Actual is moving to meet with the doctor." With that, Lt. Flynn began to walk over to the collection point. There he encountered a few of his men, but mostly unfamiliar faces of these new survivors and Dr. Jones with his team moving quickly to assess these new intakes. Lt. Flynn moved to introduce himself to these refugees and put them at least slightly at ease.

"Afternoon, folks!" Flynn loudly said to try and grab the refugees' attention as he took a few steps up a nearby stair. "I am Lt. Flynn of the 133rd Maine Engineer Battalion and a fellow resident of Saco. Welcome to the Saco River Safe Zone. I understand the last few weeks have been some of the most difficult in your lives, but starting today you are a part of our family. We are all working together to secure a safe and brighter future, and ultimately make contact with the federal government to begin coordinating efforts to address the emergency. We will all have to work together to be able to accomplish this. For now, get some rest and sleep well knowing that you are under the protection of the US Army.

Our dedicated medical staff will assess your general health, but if you have any other medical concerns or issues, then please speak with them and we will do our best to help you. Lt. Gino will also be around to speak with you all and learn about your past experiences and skills. He will be your point of contact with any issues or concerns that you need to communicate with headquarters. Alternatively, you may seek me for any urgent and major concerns. Thank you, and god bless us all." Lt. Flynn stepped down and walked to a nearby solder "When Lt. Gino arrives, inform him that I want him to start winning hearts and minds and for him to start putting together a quick dossier about these people's past job experiences and skills. We need all hands on deck."

Flynn then approached Doctor Jones and said "Doctor Jones, a quick word?" as he indicated a nearby corner. Flynn walked over and quietly spoke to the Doctor "I'll keep this brief Doctor. My men are spread thin right now. There's a lot of reports going on, and if something happens here... like one of the new refugees is actually infected... I may not be able to respond quickly. I have a few men posted here to help keep the peace, but if things get chaotic or you need to take matters into your own hands." Lt. Flynn discretely took out his pistol and handed it to the Doctor. "Pull on the top of the gun and it'll slide back. Once you fully pull it back, let it go and then you're ready to point and pull the trigger. If you need anything, ask one of the men to radio me. Otherwise, there's various samples in the newly secured zones that you may be inter..." Flynn was interrupted by a loud radio message "BREAK BREAK BREAK. Two vehicles just pulled out of CP Bravo and blew past us in Sector Charlie without a word. They are headed westbound from Sector Charlie." Lt. Flynn muttered a curse under his breath before looking at the Doctor and saying "Good luck, Doc."

Flynn stepped out of the collection point and radioed back "Solid Copy, Sector Charlie. Given no information coming out of Springs Island, we are going to take precautionary measures. Sgt Yates, pull back with your squad to Sector Alpha. Take your men and the ACE and set up a barricade on our side of the bridge so that no vehicle can get by without us removing the barricade. I want more eyes on the bridge in case there is an emergency going on from both Sector Charlie and Alpha." Flynn secretly worried if their fears had come to pass and someone had hidden a zombie bite after leaving the safe zone and came back... leading to an outbreak on the island. He hustled back to the Autoshop warehouse where he had previously been posted before.

ZarbofftheFirst

 

[Lorsh]

Written with Mineczka , Obsidian , Twist , SMTFan , Miaow

SACO RIVER SAZE ZONE REFUGEE COUNCIL | SPRINGS ISLAND, BIDDEFORD


"Blessings of the Lord be with you," Anthony said, the words leaving his mouth so quickly he did not realise what he was saying until he said it, but he refocused his mind on the task at hand. "Mr. Delacroix, given your sizable influence amongst the refugees, I was hoping you could assist in gathering them for a meeting. I am afraid I have to announce that the training sessions I have been holding will have to be discontinued, but that another set of courses will be available. These focusing more on survival, hand to hand combat, and how to more effectively deal with the Undead without guns." "Could you gather as many as would wish to attend for the announcement?" Rennox asks.

“Corporal, I’d be glad to both attend and spread the word about your meeting. You have my word that it will be both well attended and well received. Afterwards, I say we have a chat about how the more responsible members of the military like yourself, and refugees like me can help each other” Delacroix replies with a shark like smirk.

"Thank you, Mr Delacroix." Anthony returns. "See you at the meeting."

Rennox stepped into the Refugee Council, finding the place packed full of people. Delacroix certainly did his part. The Corporal made his way to the platform, where announcements are made, the assembly drawing down to a low hum of chatter as the Corporal begins."My fellow Americans," he says, projecting his voice enough so all could hear him. "As many of you would be aware, I have been training civilians of the Zone in fighting the Undead, to those who would wish to raise arms in the defence of the Zone. However, due to constraints with ammo and guns, Major Hodges has banned any further training sessions involving guns. I am afraid that they will be suspended, likely indefinitely."

"Major Hodges has instructed that the civilians of the Zone may be trained in hand-to-hand combat, as well as trained on matters of survival." Anthony added, "Myself and Lieutenant Gino are to organise and operate these training sessions. The use of alternative weaponry to guns will also be introduced, both melee and ranged weapons, and I would like to invite anyone who is able to craft spears and bows to speak with me at your first given opportunity. Should anyone like to join these training sessions, feel free to join. Times and dates of sessions will be announced soon."


"Does anyone have any questions?"


Delacroix rises up from the crowd and in a loud bellowing voice announces, “I’ll be joining, cause if that bastard Hodges thinks he deny us the ability to defend ourselves he’s got another thing coming! And I hope every thinking man and woman here will join me!” Delacroix finished and as if on que a few of his known associates stood up and made similar statements.“Time to get the bandwagon going” he thought to himself.

There is a round of cheers as Delacroix stands up and insults the SZ commander. Boos erupt from the crowd of civilians at the mere mention of Hodges' name, who recently had their rations cut the week prior. Anger and resentment against the authorities has been simmering long before that, when the National Guard executed and blew up many of their fellow citizens, family, and friends.

Delacroix seeing the extreme reaction from the crowd, seizes the opportunity, “My fellow Americans, for too long we have tolerated the military despotism of Hodges, with your support I can form a council to responsibly govern the safe zone and depose Hodges. All those who stand with me say Aye!”

Many saber-rattlers shouted 'aye'.

Listening to the grouping, a sigh came from the Firefighter that remained seated, listening to the man, Mr. Delacroix espouse his seeming manifesto, speaking of Military Despotism under Hodges. A sigh came from her again, she was no fan of Hodges either, there were many actions that were taken that she held a deep seated anger for, but, this was not the time, nor the place... Not only that, but, this was not the best way. Taking another breath she stood, her voice projecting loud and clear through the mess, "Don't know if you heard, but, he's not denying because he doesn't want us to protect ourselves..." She'd pause, adjusting the harness on her shoulder, which housed a bright coloured radio, with a wire ran to her right shoulder, where a receiver was, it had been silent the entire time, "They're running out of ammunition, which, unless someone knows how to make bullets, is a finite and ever-dwindling resource." She'd say, "Spears, axes, bows, and the like, are a lot easier to produce, quieter, and more ideal in the long term." Taking a moment to look her fellows, she'd continue, "And I understand more than anyone the blatant distrust of Hodges, I'm no fan either to be frank. But. Do understand, you are alive because of his actions, you are here, when he could have left you to die. At the very least, he deserves that level of respect. We do not need to start a revolt before we even started talking. As right now, there needs to be some unity in both Guard and People. That's all I'll say." As her words lingered in the air, she'd rest her hand over her radio, a small click sound would follow, as the light on the side showed it had now turned on.

A few Biddeford residents began to nod along with Miss Theriault.

Feeling the need to avoid a split amongst the refugees Delacroix responds in a loud clear voice, “Miss Theriault, there is only one person in this Safe zone dividing the people and that man is Hodges. It is under his orders the executions, terror and ration cuts have occurred. And does he ever even have the balls to face us, to explain his decision making? No, he cowers and forces the rest of the guard to do his dirty work for him. If all of us that are oppressed by Hodges, both Guard and Refugee join together as one we can remove him without one drop of blood being spilled. But if we don’t take a strong stand now, it’ll tell Hodges he can get away with anything. He’ll execute anyone of us he thinks is a threat, disarm the rest in the name of ‘conserving ammo’, cut rations even more so we become too hungry to resist, and purge the Guard of good moral men like Corporal Rennox. This is our one and only chance to end Hodge’s brutality and reestablish unity amongst everyone in the safe zone, cause after he gets word of what is happening here today he’s never letting us assemble again. Now I’d like everyone to ask yourself, are you for Tyrant Hodges or are you for everyone else in this safe zone.”

Rennox stands and watches with some disbelief as Mr Delacroix whips up a rebellion before his eyes, now leaving the Corporal in an awkward position. But Delacroix would be right. Even if the Major does not issue public executions of key members of this rebellion, he would certainly disarm the refugees in the interests of 'public safety' and 'maintaining order,' reducing the refugees to mere servants, or slaves at worst. The refugees will never be trusted to hold a weapon again, and without them they are defenceless. The Guardsmen will not hold out forever, they simply cannot. They need the refugees armed and ready to fight, even if they are too proud and too stubborn to admit it. Rennox sees no other alternative. He can only pray this will not end in a bloodbath."We are not alive because of Hodges, we are alive in spite of him!" Rennox speaks, his words carried by an unbridled passion, driven by his anger and frustration and resentment born from all he has seen of Hodge's leadership since all hell broke loose. Finally, at long last, Anthony speaks, his true self revealed, nothing held back. "Has Hodges treated the sick and the injured of the Zone with his own two hands? Has Hodges been round to give out hot meals and warm blankets to the cold and the hungry? Has Hodges fished in the rivers, maintained the hydroelectric plants, or worked in the Lab for one day in a desperate search for a cure?! No! You know what he has been doing all this time?! He has been trying all his might to drink himself to death, pissing away what little rations yet remain!"

"While the rest of the Zone has struggled and toiled to hold this place together, to keep people alive, Hodge's and his boot-licking Captain have been spending their time black-out drunk on the floor of their private quarters! We are not alive because of Hodges, Miss Theriault. We are alive only because of the rest of us. Because we have all worked and fought and contributed to the Zone, not because of Hodge's."

The Corporal took a moment to take a breath before continuing, calmer now."We cannot rely on Hodges, and, until he is removed from command, we cannot rely on the Guardsmen either. The rank and file guardsmen are good men, just trying to do what they can and looking to their officers for leadership, but being pulled by both rank and their duty to the citizens of the United States is a conflict few soldiers know how to resolve. We must therefore rely on ourselves. We must train. We must learn. We must work together in order to survive. I truly wish the Guardsmen will see Hodges for what he is, and choose to join us, but if not then we must look to ourselves for our future."

The Marine went on. "I created the Militia to do just this. By arming and training everyone, not just the guardsmen, we will all be ready for when our lives are threatened. And, while the Undead are our greatest concern, there is far more than just zombies out there in this world. A hundred or so Guardsmen is simply not enough. We all need to be prepared to face what is out there. And I really do mean ALL of us."
Taking a hard sigh, Elaine would shake her head, "As said, I cannot say I agree with every decision made, I'm not for his actions, by no means. It's reasonable to be upset, and reasonable to be frustrated at his attempts. It's reasonable to be outraged even, at the actions Hodges took." Taking a minute, she'd look to the crowd before continued, "BUT. I will stress this, we need to keep this peaceful. There's no good end to bloodied in-fighting. Furthermore, what would replace the leadership role? As I do not believe a single leader would work well here, too much to control at once, and not enough hours in the day." Looking to her fellows, she'd hear the Corporal within speak up, his anger risen to a level that for a moment concerned the Firefighter, knowing that she's been often leading the charge in each question asked, making sure people eat, have blankets and a warm place to sleep, another sigh would come, "No, he didn't on any count. But. I do not believe we should full on fight the Guard, all that would do, is splinter us further, and attract unwelcome guests." She'd say, adjusting her radio again, hearing some of the idle chatter over the radio, "But my question then stands, if we are to rely on ourselves for our future, then, who will make decisions? I refuse to allow it to be one person again." As her words lingered, Elaine would pick up her coat, the reflective bands seeming more vibrant in the direct light, "Furthermore, how do we plan to keep this bloodless? I've treated enough bullet wounds this month alone to not want to have to do more."

Many people do agree with Elaine -- but those people generally aren't the ones who are armed.Tobias Fuller, some pencil-mustached guy with shaggy hair holds aloft an AR-15 and hollers. "We need a show of fuckin' force. If they think they can stomp us out, they will!"A stubbly, scraggly guy in hunting camo, Olly Hart, juts a finger at Elaine. "If there ain't no consequences for all this fuckin' mismanagement and bullshit, they're gonna keep right at it! Well, we'll show 'em they're gonna have to shoot us all if they want their way, and they can't afford to do that. Their command base over in Saco's all fucked up, they'll fold! They know they got no choice but to let the people have their say."

Having quickly and quietly taken a seat towards the back of the room, Hattie listened intently, the cogs turning in her mind... The premise of a training regimen excited her, it was something she'd be running to... once she could run, that was. Why keep running and hiding from infected when she could take them out, leave one less zombie to worry about...She didn't exactly know much about Hodges, other than what Ionut had told her. The boos caught her off guard... It was certainly difficult to form an opinion with only the information presented to her in that very moment. She hadn't met Hodges, she was unaware of his actions, and so far, he was being portrayed as a drunk and a tyrant.The woman with the reflective coat... now she was persuasive. To Hattie, what she was descibing sounded like democracy. The moustachioed man and his camo-clad friend, on the other hand... sounded like idiots. She leaned in closer to Ionut, keeping her voice down as she spoke."So... they're mad at Hodges for killing people... so they want to kill more people?" She asked. Saying that loud enough for the maniac swinging a gun around was asking for trouble, thus, she kept her voice to a whisper.

"No," Ionut replied, though his tone lacked conviction. "It's just for show." Ionut was unusually quiet. These meetings were used to air grievances, to let off steam but today a fuse had been lit under the people. He and Hattie had arrived late to the meeting for sure but whatever had stoked these people's ire was lost on the Dentist. However Ionut didn't have long to ponder or the time to see the conclusion of this meeting as his pager beeped. Pulling it from his pocket, he read the summons. Lou Close was under the weather and Doctor Jones needed his help identifying the issue. Ionut frowned. "Samca, I need to go. It's a medical incident. Wait here till I return." He touched her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I will be back soon." He got off his chair and headed to the door, giving Hattie one last look and a smile before disappearing outside.


“Ladies and gentlemen, our course of action is clear. We will march on Factory Island and depose the Tyrant Hodges. Hopefully not a drop of blood will be shed, but if Hodges thinks he can hold on to power through violence. Then I guess Thomas Jefferson’s tree of liberty will be getting a good watering. Now, LET’S GET THE BASTARD!” Delacroix finished and with a wave of his arm signaled to the mob to follow him.
The armed civilians gave a final holler and followed their agitator-in-chief outside. "If we rendezvous with our buddies on Factory Island, we'll be unstoppable," mentioned Anthony Barque to Mr. Delacroix, unslinging his Bushmaster XM-15. Militiamen started to hop into SUVs, jeeps and trucks.Elias Stirling meets Joseph outside, having finished talking to Sergeant Southworth. "These boys have decided to throw their lot in with us," he explained. The sergeant offered a handshake to Mr. Delacroix, a few of his men hanging out on a nearby fifty-mounted Humvee. "Figure it's time for some new management. Really can't fault your people, here... so, we'll do what we can to help, hopefully stop it from escalating."

Delacroix gave the Sergeant a firm handshake, “I’d like to thank you and your men for your courage in standing with us. I hate to ask for more, but would you be willing to join me and Corporal Rennox at the front of the march? Having as many military men out front as possible, would do a lot to discourage the boys at the bridge from opening fire and turning this into a bloodbath.”

Sergeant Southworth nodded. "Yeah, roger that. On me, you pukes, on me!" A dozen defector Guardsmen hastily formed a line in front of the HMMWV, with Specialist Raymond racking the M2 Browning. They are joined by the Biddeford Police Department's remnants, numbering five, as well as an extra sympathetic cop from Saco PD. The boys in blue have broken out their shotguns and rifles, a few of them sporting riot gear as well.

 

[Twist]

Hadley Jones
​

Hadley and Ionut stood in a makeshift nurse’s area in the Medbay. They were reviewing scrounged together records from a man who was likely pre-diabetic. The man had come in because he wasn’t feeling well, and suspected it was diabetes. As they looked at the notes, a soldier came into the Medbay. He seemed in a hurry, with a worried look on his eyes masked by his steady tone.

“Doctor Jones and Albescu,” PFC. Mueller said. “First Lieutenant Flynn is requesting the assistance of your staff in a newly cleared area. Our men cleared a warehouse across the river, and we’re gaining control of the building for use as a quarantine center. The First Lieutenant wants your team to set up the quarantine center, even if it’s minimal equipment. We have 50 people who need to get cleared. He said your people were free to grab things from other buildings that are cleared later. ”

“Alright, we’ll see who we have that’s free,” Hadley said. Hadley set down the medical notes in his hand, and looked to Ionut. They both nodded and began to grabbed a handful of staff to utilize at the quarantine area:

• Tanner Bishop (Volunteer medic)
• Beau Whitaker (Nurse)
• Avery Hawthorn (Volunteer medic)

Rushing a team to immediately triage people who were or weren’t infected is more important than a thorough round of testing Hadley thought: if a person needed to be kicked out for obvious infection symptoms, having manpower on hand to do it makes it easier. It was harder to do that when the nearest soldier could be in an entirely different area.

Hadley and Ionut, with their team gathered, made their way out of the Medbay to the main road. They turned hard onto the train tracks to the train bridge. The din of distant gunfire and helicopter blades has been so engrained in Hadley’s mind that they don’t make him flinch anymore. Hadley only thinks of the mission, checking those survivors. Hadley and Ionut made it to Checkpoint Charlie in a short time. They had only brought the essentials for an examination: gloves, disinfectant, and masks. This allowed them to walk and jog at a brisk pace. The soldiers stationed at Checkpoint Charlie stepped aside, allowing a contingent of soldiers to ferry the doctors across the bridge. The sound of rubber and leather soles echoed off the bridge's steel. A lonely hymn in a quiet world where steel wheels once cla-clack cla-clacked into the cool air.

As Hadley and company went across the bridge, he stared at the town. There was an eeriness to a town in the throws of death: the lack of honking cars, birds, or people. As Hadley got closer, he saw the only people on the street were dead, or torn to pieces. Hadley looked ahead on the railroad tracks, watching as he neared soldiers. A soldier with a rifle at rest. Another soldier watching the buildings with his weapon at the ready, but the sights of his gun still at the ground. Hadley focused back to where the soldiers were leading him and his team. It was a tall and wide building with a couple floors, perfect for a quarantine building.

Hadley and company entered the side of the building, and were guided through it. Hadley fought to ignore the disintegrated face of a person clearly killed in the raid as it hung on a windowsill. They bounded down the concrete stairs until they reached the ground floor. Hadley got a glimpse of the area he and Ionut were working with: it was dirty, with dust and some smalls spills that had never been cleaned. Checking the survivors would be complicated, probably further complicated by bloody boot prints dotting parts of the floor.

Hadley looked over to Ionut and spoke, “Beau and I will keep going to the survivors who are being held. You, Tanner, and Avery can start setting up the quarantining areas. Even if it’s just cardboard boxes and tape we can live with that for now.” Hadley was eager to get to work. Time was of the essence.

Heyitsjiwon Twist

"Da. Certainly" responded the dentist to the doctor. "We'll see what we can do"

Ionut looked at Tanner and Avery. "Pleasure working with you" he smiled "Call me John".

There was the thud of military boots as a soldier, who Ionut recognised as Flynn, approached Hadley. Taking him to one side, Ionut was left to his own devices. "Let's spread out and see what we're working with" he said to the medics under his command.

Fifteen minutes passed but the warehouse contained only scraps of life. No real furniture of which to speak but at least the lights worked and there was plenty of room. A gunshot pierced the silence, the bang coming from outside, in the distance, followed by a few loud but intelligible words. Another warehouse hit thought the dentist, wondering if this one perhaps held survivors.

There was very little to work with to make this warehouse truly comfortable with Ionut's thoughts turning back to his inquiry during the impromptu meeting. Were the military willing to sacrifice their comfort to help ease the process of screening? He hoped so but for now he had to focus on the task at hand. He arched his neck and scanned for one of the volunteers. "Can you check outside please? I want to know what's happening outside. Tell me if we have survivors"

If there were survivors nearby, they may have their own supplies of which he could use. Creature comforts from 'home' to ease the situation, hopefully with more from the military to make this building 'welcoming'. Still he couldn't rely on any such thing happening and so would have to make do. Ionut began to scrounge what he could from the warehouse and the outside. Să faci din rahat bici the Dentist thought.

 

[Pat]

Ellis​

“Deserters.” Ellis spoke, watching two vehicles leave Springs. “Daughtry, we’re going to intercept them. I’ll try to reason with them, but as soon as you get a chance in the case they don’t listen, hit the truck’s engine block and immobilize it. It’s a bigger and slower target than the humvee it has to follow, and you’ve just had loads of practice shooting up cars. We do this, they might rethink their choices and help us fight whatever has got them so spooked. Or at least return home and sit this one out. Success now might make it easier to deal with the next idiots screeching out of Factory too.”

Lowering five hundred feet and getting into position, Ellis tries to contact them. “Convoy, this is Ferryman, you’re about to be pinched between two sprinter hordes, total head count of 2,000. They’re swarming the high school and the southern parking lots of Biddeford. Unless you’d like to drive through a 4th of July parade of uglies or risk getting bushwhacked by stragglers all the way down shit’s creek, abort recon mission and return to Factory for debrief and my fuckin’ undying gratitude for not disturbing yet more undead masses for me to redirect away from the islands. How copy?” Ellis radioed, bluffing about what was really up ahead in order to get them to turn around.

Hopefully the huge bird of prey in the sky with bigger talons than them could deter further escalation as well, but today seemed full of surprises. A slap on the wrist from Hodges had to be better than deciding to abandon the safe zone.

Right?

After a few moments of garbled static, someone in the background can be heard speaking briefly before being cut off. ░"We should-"░ The M35 cargo truck suddenly pulled over, and in response to that, so did the humvee. There was some kind of altercation between the deserters regarding what to do — ultimately, the SAW gunner atop the HMMWV fired a burst at the truck driver.

"What the fuck," CPO. Daughtry gasped.

One soldier hopped out of the humvee and made a dash for the truck while his friends tore away, ignoring the pilot's warnings.

If they were this crazed and desperate, Ellis couldn’t let them go their own way.

“Light that gunner the fuck up.” Ellis ordered. “Next rounds go in the engine block or tires. Anyone who gets up to touch that SAW dies.”

“Occupants of the humvee, get out of the vehicle and disarm. The soldiers in the truck will bring you in. This is your final warning.” He attempted to radio the people on the ground again.

The soldier left behind by the humvee attempted to steal the supply truck in a hurry. However, a soldier who had second thoughts about deserting thanks to the 'horde' must not have wanted their ass on the line for losing the M35, so they produced a pistol and shot the would-be thief dead. The deserting National Guardsman collapsed in the street, killed by a fellow abscondee, no less.

Daughtry fired a spurt from his M60 at the SAW gunner, who promptly slumped down. The humvee itself took a few rounds, but kept going. They were hell-bent on getting out of there. A deserter got up to man the SAW again and started throwing rounds at the Huey, engaging in a running machine gun battle.

"We gotta get the fuck out of here," Langley advised.

“No. We do this now so no one has to do this later.” He said, holding the Huey steady. “Daughtry, controlled bursts only. Hit the gunner and the driver.” Ellis barked.

“Truck occupant, stabilize driver, secure the deserter’s kit, and bring it all home. Get that soldier medical attention.”

"Uh-oh," Langley said after a 'ping' was heard somewhere in the helicopter. "I think we took some flak."

“Die, pricks!" screamed Daughtry as he lit things up, peppering the rogue victor with long bursts. Moments later, the humvee swerved off the road and flipped over on the Maine Turnpike, near the South Street overpass. Ghouls were starting to swarm, including a few recently-turned ones that were moving pretty fast.

░"Hey, HEY! Come in, please, c'mon, you gotta fuckin' help us!"░ Sounds like SGT. Tierney. Gunfire emits from the overturned humvee, but they're eventually on all sides of the vehicle. ░"God! No, God! Please! Nuh- no, no- naAAHGHH...░ One of the soldiers is dragged out and promptly disemboweled, while a good half-dozen infected start to tear apart whoever else is left inside, including those already wounded by gunfire.

"That's done," Daughtry exhaled.

“Langley. Check to see where that bullet went. Daughtry. Ammo count on the M60.” Ellis said, exhaling himself and relaxing his tensed muscles. “Keep cool, practice trigger discipline. This might just be the beginning of a long day. Only reason why we’re alive right now is you had more control over your weapon than those psychos did.”

He sighed, climbing 500 feet and moving on to the next police chase. “Now where’s those other deserters?”

Getting on the radio, he tried to get into contact with the new vehicles tearing away from the safe zone. Even if the Huey didn’t have the integrity or the ammo to do this again, they still could threaten it.

Lorsh

 

[ZarbofftheFirst]

Hadley Jones​

Hadley and Beau gave each other a quick look after they saw the 50 people before them. The people seemed so ordinary. Vacationing office workers, tired retirees, spoiled children, and only a few people who seemed like the luckiest salt of the earth. They were a standing vigil to a world order that disappeared only days ago. Would they even fit in the new one? That’s not my job to figure out Hadley thought to himself. I just have to make sure they’re cleared to enter.

“Alright everyone, my name is Hadley Jones, Head Scientist and Doctor at the Saco Safe Zone not too far from here. I’m here with Nurse Beau, and before you enter the Safe Zone, we need to run a quick check of everyone here.” Hadley pointed to a spot by the side of the warehouse.

“Start a line right here. Roll up your sleeves and the ankles of your pants. When you come up to us, keep your hands out, palms up, and tell us if you’re feeling ill in any way. If you’re cleared, you’ll enter into the quarantining area right there. If you’re not cleared, you’ll have to leave.”

The murmurs traded between the people vanished. Some took a deep breath. A mother comforted her child. A man made the sign of the cross. Hadley and Beau donned their protective gear as the 50 people assembled before them.

Hadley began with a woman in her thirties. A young girl clung to her leg. “If you can’t take me, take her, please,” the woman said.

“You’re alright ma’am,” Hadley said. A quick exam of the child yielded the same result. “You two can head inside.”

A man in his early thirties with a close cut beard came forward. “It’s the end of the world as we know it,” the man said under his breath. “And I feel fiiiiiiiiiine.”

Hadley appreciated the sarcasm and let the man pass through.

An older man in formal attire came forward. He even had a clean shave. “Hopefully this’ll all be fixed up soon,” the formal man said.

“Well, the first step to that is making sure I can complete this check,” Hadley said, motioning to the formal man’s cuff links.

“Sorry about that,” the formal man said. He took off his cuff links and rolled back his sleeves. Clean as a whistle, except for what looked like old scars on his wrists.

“You’re all set,” Hadley said. The formal man gave a quick nod before refastening his cuff links and moving on.

Only a couple minutes passed and most people were checked. Hadley looked to the last person in line for him. An older woman with normal clothes. She seemed to be hiding her hands behind her back. Hadley had the woman step forward.

“I’m sorry ma’am, I’ll need to see your hands,” Hadley said. The woman remained standing. “If you’re injured we’ll be able to help.”

The woman lifted up her hands. Her left hand was fine. Her right hand had a deep set of bite marks in a half moon shape, from her thumb to her middle finger. Hadley took a deep breath and looked up.

“What’s your name ma’am?” Hadley asked.

“Beatrice,” the woman said.

“Alright Beatrice, how did you get this bite?” Hadley asked.

“My husband. I had to push him down the stairs and he cracked his skull,” Beatrice’s expression didn’t change.

“How long ago did this happen?” Hadley asked.

“Just today,” Beatrice said. “I should be okay, right?” Hadley shook his head as the other people watched from afar.

“I’m afraid not,” Hadley said. “A bite like that will still make you turn. It’d take a day or two, but it’s certain you’ll turn into one of them.” The people Hadley and Beau cleared came closer. Beatrice looked at Hadley.

“Come on now!” Beatrice composed herself. “You wouldn’t give me a chance?” Beatrice asked. She turned her head to the other survivors. “Wouldn’t I be one of those things already just from one bite?”

“No, Beatrice,” Hadley said. “Most people are bitten many times and die. But all it takes is one drop of blood and saliva, and you’re infected. Low exposure infection takes a couple days, and if your husband drew blood like I see now, then you are infected and will turn.”

“Oh God,” Beatrice said. The other survivors looked to Hadley.

“I’m sorry, Beatrice, but you’ll have to leave us,” Hadley said. “We can’t risk the lives of the people in the Safe Zone.” The mother and her child huddled together. The stoner and the businessman looked at each other in disbelief. The crowd, minds changed by the facts, began to walk away as they left the leper to her fate. Beatrice looked at Hadley.

“Okay,” Beatrice said. “If that’s how it’ll be, then okay. I’ll leave.” Beatrice almost left, but stopped in place. “What does it feel like to turn?”

“I’ve seen only one person turn from a residual infection. It’s a very violent fever,” Hadley said. “By the end, you’ll be in incredible suffering unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. You will lose yourself and your mind, completely.”

“I don’t want that,” Beatrice said. She held herself. “I don’t want to feel that.” Beatrice looked at Hadley's coat pocket. “That’s a gun in your pocket, right?”

“Yes,” Hadley said. Beatrice stood tall and took a deep breath. Hadley looked in confusion.

“Then do me the honor, sir. If you need to deny support to the enemy,” Beatrice said. “Once a WASP, always a WASP.” Hadley watched as Beatrice had reformed herself. Hadley looked to Beau, who gave a firm nod and flicked his head towards the cleared people. Hadley looked back at Beatrice.

“Come with me,” Hadley said.

Hadley and Beatrice walked towards the side of the large quarantine building, to the reinforcement of the train tracks. Hadley and Beatrice came to a stop. Beatrice’s bright clothes bounced off the dark grey concrete wall. Hadley drew the pistol, the Beretta M9, from his coat pocket. He took a couple extra steps back, knowing blood could spatter far.

“I don’t need a cigarette mister Jones,” Beatrice said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Execution is a refinement of killing. Some dignity, or lack thereof, and an order to things. Maybe a few last words. For a moment, Hadley thought Beatrice might say something witty. But he knew at the end of the road, most people don’t really have much to say. Because they know how the story ends. Hadley raised the pistol and centered the sights on Beatrice’s head. She was turned away. Maybe she knew seeing a person’s face made the process harder.

Hadley pulled the trigger. Red splatter shot onto the concrete wall. Beatrice fell to the ground in a huddle. She stiffened on the ground and Hadley turned his head away. He had seen the process of death so much, bearing it was too much for him. He walked away, back towards Beau, as he stuffed his pistol into his pocket, with a chill going throughout his body.

 

[Ivan]

A strange man lays by himself in the garage, surrounded by countless military vehicles, all with purposes he is well acquainted with. he has seen them a thousand times before, in a thousand ways, each one known to him by sight, by sound, many by the very parts that interlock them like imagining so many nervous systems. He lays alone on the floor, with a small board he's nailed some wheels too. He lays there working on his car, a strange sight amidst so many others. Small and compact, old by all measure, foreign to these shores, and yet the most important item in Raymond Delilio's collection. Good for what it is, long lasting, effective, now lacking the gas it needs to run and with nowhere for him to drive it to anyway. Still, it's a good a way as any to pass the time, cleaning her and ensuring that everything is ship shape, as well ordered as it can be.

"Howdy, Ray." An unfortunately familiar voice bids him to slam his forehead against the underside of the car. He takes only the time to ensure he hasn't done any damage to the underside of his Renault 5, before emerging from the underside to reveal a large, red mark on his forehead. "Ah, shit, didn't mean to scare ya."

The familiar voice, all too familiar for his taste, a fellow grease monkey and frequenter of all things mechanical, even if he hardly has to skill to make anything work. Kaden Morgan, a head shorter, a magnitude greasier, but altogether more put together. What was first a passing intrigue of Raymond's car has since turned to a never ending need to pester him at all hours of the day. Raymond looks down to check his watch, and sees that it's 11:36, the same time it's been for the last month or so, and clicks his tongue.

"Mr. Morgan. Can I help you?" His voice quiet enough to be blown away by a summer breeze, more a mutter than otherwise.

"I told you a million times Ray, you ain't need to be so formal with me. You're liable to hurt my feelings the way you act."

"I'm busy." Ray shakes his head. "I need to clean her."

"You been sayin that same shit for the last three days. This car is so clean by now that I can see my reflection off her."

"That isn't enough." Raymond lays back down, and just as he's about to slide back under the car, Kaden's foot stops him.

"Hey now, i still got somethin to tell ya now."

"Is this really the best time for that?" There's always a noisy haze of gunfire, ambient screaming, and the moans of the undead going off in the vicinity, but it seems to have grown only worse of late.

"If you can spend the time cleanin this old girl of yours," Kaden slaps a hand against the hood of Ray's Renault, and Ray cringes, "I think you can take a lil time to listen to my stories."

Raymond grimaces. This day, like every day it seems, was going to be a long and tiring one.

 

[Pat]

Ellis​

"Got a hundred and a half rounds left on the belt, sir," Daughtry said. Fucksakes... just focus on flying, he thought. The chief petty officer realized his hands were trembling, the whole ordeal of killing his fellow men in uniform leaving him badly shaken. He has to tighten his grip on the M60.

Worse, still, he'd traded some 7.62mm to some infantry assholes in exchange for a bag of lobster and a rechargeable battery for a Game Boy Advance. Was it a good trade? Probably not. Well, since Lieutenant Mills apparently thought he was going ape shit with his fire, it'd make sense if he'd just shot them off. Still, it was the end of a whole can, once this belt was finished...

"Tail boom, I think," Langley said. "Superficial damage. I think we're okay, for now."

Whoever those deserters are, they cannot be raised.

"Man...We ain't getting shit," sighed the ensign in regard to comms.

“Good. Make them count Daughtry.” Ellis said, nodding to Langley’s report. “We’re engaging the remaining deserters. Take out the gunner if they spin their weapon around at us, then immobilize the vehicle. If they’re smart, they get on the radio or surrender and head back. Can’t let scum like them go out there just to stab us in the back. Lead your bursts if you have to. Fire when they open up on us or when I stop the Huey.”

Ellis followed the deserters, lowering five hundred feet and hovering when they get close for Daughtry to shoot.

"Hey, uh, I think we might...” Langley managed to raise one of them.

░"What the fuck do you want?!"░

Fucking assholes, Ellis thought.“You’re driving into a horde. First convoy to try this turned on each other and got shredded and mauled when they fired on us. Only survivor did the smart thing and went home. I don’t want to hear anyone else screaming on comms, do you? You’ve got nowhere to go and a huey on your tail. Return to Factory, and I’ll advocate for every single one of you to get off easy.”

░"That asshole Jenkins isn't gonna let something like this slide. We're out. Everywhere's a fuckin' horde... we'll deal with it. Good luck. Suggest you quit wasting your fuel."░

Ellis turned to Daughtry. “Light up the truck gunner and disable the vehicles. Someone goes for the MG, or shoots back at us, waste them. Zero tolerance.”

He watched Daughtry shoot the truck gunner and radios them back. “Turn around if you value your lives.”

Daughtry chopped up the young, boonie-hatted private manning the M240 on the 'vee, who slumped down in a spray of scarlet mist. ░"Flyboy - you're fucking toast."░ The deserting vehicles promptly did a U-turn and went back the way they came, despite the threat. Daughtry glanced over his shoulder.

"Sir, we've got a lot of comms coming in from the islands," groaned Langley. "It's bad. Either way, maybe we should dust off those vehicles and take out those guys so they aren't trouble later," suggested the ensign.

“Don’t have the ammo for it. Maybe the infected will get them, maybe whatever is engulfing Springs will take care of them for us.” Ellis explained. “If there is anything left of them after this, we’ll get them demoted, disciplined, and reassigned to that shit hole. Or we’ll be watching them lined up against a wall before long.”

He radioed Lt. Brown. “Checkpoint Alpha. Deserters returning home after humvee gunner terminated with extreme prejudice. Driver of the humvee threatened a superior officer. Take the M240 for your defenses. This horde looks fresh. Don’t underestimate them. Put the deserters on the line against the incoming infected, and keep them busy fighting in front of you or under guard until Cpt. Jenkins can decide what to do with them.”

“Daughtry. We’re going to hover behind Checkpoint Alpha at 2000 ft. Deserters shouldn’t have a good shot at us if they go turncoat again. Empty the M60 into the incoming infected. Every last bullet. Take your time, those men down there are counting on you.”

Lorsh

 

[Lorsh]

Written with Pat , Lord Bradorian , Heyitsjiwon

Uprising


Still dealing with the survivors at the Main Energy warehouse, Noones was taking things under control, mostly. The majority of the stragglers had obeyed his commands and sat down, their weapons either stowed or dropped in a pile between his soldiers and the rows of sitting survivors. Noones was surprised that most seemed to be in okay condition, though some did look worse for wear. Ionut and Jones were going to have a field day, processing this many people - nothing like what they dealt with before the bridges were out though.Still, there was a minority that headed back into the warehouse to collect their things and move on, the alternative he'd given to anybody who didn't want to enter the Safe Zone...but their reluctance made him suspicious. Moving back behind his humvee, he'd steady his rifle on the hood pointing generally toward the warehouse, joining a gunner pulling security with his support weapon.

Turning on his radio, he continued to trade traffic with Saco 1 and the command element of his platoon. "Saco 2-1 this is 2-2. Mission objective nearing completion. Fifty stragglers detained for intake. Thirty armed men moving on. Interrogative; sit-rep at CP Alpha? Over."


░"Saco 2-2, this is Saco 2 ACTUAL, acknowledged. Situation is some dudes went AWOL, and there's a demonstration at Sierra India we gotta deal with. We need you to return to Foxtrot India ASAP. Sort out that goddamn straggler situation, over."░

After hearing Lt. Brown's reply, Noones switched channels to the operations' frequency to get in touch with his field commander, Lt. Flynn. "Saco 1, this is Saco 2-2, please advise. Thirty-odd armed stragglers attempting to leave the Main Energy warehouse. Should we take any action or let them go? Could try to detain, or send a tailing element to see where they go. Over."

Hearing more traffic about a horde to the north, Noones relays the message to his platoonmates in earshot. "Large horde spotted by our bird moving toward CP Alpha! Gonna be a busy day, boys!"

Finally, he issued orders to his platoon, stepping out in front of the humvee now. "Squad 1, secure their weapons. 2, get them up and moving. 3, set up 360, monitor guys in the warehouse."


"Saco 2-2, do not engage. I say again, do not engage. We have an incident on Springs Island. Unknown personnel entered the AO and into Sector Charlie, heading westbound in a hurry. Possible outbreak on Springs Island. Moving to barracade the Springs Island bridge. Standby, may need assistance to address the incident, over."


The hair on the back of Roger's neck stands up as Lieutenant William's transmission comes through in a garble. An outbreak in Biddeford? If the infection was loose among the near thousand refugees that live there...it could spell the end of the Safe Zone, or at least the loss of the island"Got reports of trouble on Springs Island. Some kind of outbreak, or an intrusion. Situation's developing," Noones verbally briefs the surrounding soldiers as they work to get the stragglers moving to the collection point.Taking up his radio again, he shot a reply back to Flynn. "Understood. We are Oscar Mike to the collection point with survivors in tow, over," Noones tells his superior.


BANG!


Lt. Flynn heard it coming from the collection point. "Fuck... an infected among the survivors?" Flynn whispered as he over looked the barricading efforts of the Springs Island Bridge. Lt. Flynn heard the radio comms and replied "Saco 2 Actual, this is Saco 1 Actual. Saco 1-3 is barricading the bridge to CP Bravo. Solid copy on the SITREP. Folks going AWOL and a demonstration... Requesting that Saco 2 come to Sector Alpha to support operations to place the SZ under lockdown, how copy?"

"All channels in the AO, there are rogue elements stealing our equipment and supplies and a mass demonstration in Springs Island. Orders are to lock down the bridges and contain the situation. No one goes in or out of the SZ without express permission from me or command."



Meanwhile, order began breaking down on Springs Island.

Looters first seize the daily catch of the fishing weirs, some distributing it freely to a gathering crowd of refugees in a fish fry with the last of the fuel while others take away all that they can carry to feed themselves and theirs.

The homeowners and majority of the councilors of this half of the safe zone, Shaun Marsden, Nancy Garter, Paul Lovell, and Penelope Howard, see where the winds are blowing and hole up inside their houses with their families and guests and refuse to come out.

A few… Troublemakers? Revolutionaries? Make their envy and resentment for them known in return, pelting their homes with rocks and whooping and hollering with every broken pane of glass as they goad them to come outside.

Less fortunate civilians hide in the apartments, or begin making for the garage and bridge checkpoint to escape the situation altogether in the wake of deserting soldiers. Those the militia are able to detain are rounded up at gunpoint as collaborators and hostages.

Major Hodges was pretty out of it, and barely gave a shit about any of this anyway, so his loyal henchman Captain Rory Spencer rallied the security forces still loyal to the standing order of things and began to set up defenses on Factory Island, blocking CP Charlie and setting up riflemen on the rooftop of the Ration Depot. However, before the rebels can even leave Springs Island, Lieutenant Flynn and his men move into their blocking positions.



"Second platoon's already crawling around the outskirts. We won't be able to get to Saco Island easy," remarked Sergeant Southworth to Rennox and Delacroix as he lowered his binoculars. "Could send a guy out to meet them, maybe. Otherwise, we're exposed if we try to head through CP Bravo," said the defector.

Obsidian
SMTFan

 

[Miaow]

"Huh?" Hattie murmured. Ionut had brought her along as an esteemed guest at this meeting, and now he was leaving her? Surely he knew that telling her to stay put rarely worked... but her legs did ache. Maybe she'd follow orders this time.

However, she did have questions. A rebellion was starting, the angry mob had literally just left the building. What was she meant to do if things went to shit? This was the first time she'd even been on this island, and now she was being left unsupervised during a coup. Was this a coup? She didn't exactly know the dictionary definition of a coup, but this *felt* like a coup.

"Just come back before the shooting starts," She responded in a joking tone, though there was some genuine concern behind it.

She waved as he turned for one last look at her, before letting out a sigh through her nose... She was already bored. She used the chair in front of her as a crutch, pushing herself to her feet. Her muscles seized up from the few moments she'd been sat down, giving her an awkward, waddle-like gait as she crossed the room. She'd spotted the gun table on her way in... and she wanted a look.

Her eyes scanned the collection... She couldn't name a single one of them, let alone shoot one. She reached across, grabbing the biggest one there, and carefully flipped it over in her hands. She kept her fingers as far from the trigger as she could.

"You wanna start with a smaller one than that, kid," A voice piped up. A teenage girl, older than Sato but definitely not an adult, approached the table.
"I assume you haven't shot before... given the way you're holding the thing like it could blow up at any minute," She murmured, grabbing a much smaller weapon.
"You want one of these. A Colt Woodsman. Minimal kickback, nice and quiet, *and* the military don't use these so you've got plenty of ammo."

The girl's face was serious as she put the safety on before handing it to Sato.
"Don't go waving it around until you've been trained to shoot it," She explained, taking a step to walk around her... but she hesitated.
"But... in an emergency... magazine goes in the bottom of the handle, cock it, safety off, aim and shoot," She added, handing her a magazine.

"Uh, thanks," Sato told her, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth as she looked down at the gun. The stranger once again hesitated... She wanted to leave, she had places to be, but...
"Look, shit's about to go down out there. They're frying up today's catch for the refugees, I'll walk you there, if you want. Just don't wave that thing around, that's how you get arrested," She warned, gesturing to the gun.
"There's a revolution going on and they're frying fish?" Sato asked her with a frown.
"You want lunch or not?"

 

[kirilla]

Written with Pat , Lord Bradorian , Heyitsjiwon

Uprising


Still dealing with the survivors at the Main Energy warehouse, Noones was taking things under control, mostly. The majority of the stragglers had obeyed his commands and sat down, their weapons either stowed or dropped in a pile between his soldiers and the rows of sitting survivors. Noones was surprised that most seemed to be in okay condition, though some did look worse for wear. Ionut and Jones were going to have a field day, processing this many people - nothing like what they dealt with before the bridges were out though.Still, there was a minority that headed back into the warehouse to collect their things and move on, the alternative he'd given to anybody who didn't want to enter the Safe Zone...but their reluctance made him suspicious. Moving back behind his humvee, he'd steady his rifle on the hood pointing generally toward the warehouse, joining a gunner pulling security with his support weapon.

Turning on his radio, he continued to trade traffic with Saco 1 and the command element of his platoon. "Saco 2-1 this is 2-2. Mission objective nearing completion. Fifty stragglers detained for intake. Thirty armed men moving on. Interrogative; sit-rep at CP Alpha? Over."


░"Saco 2-2, this is Saco 2 ACTUAL, acknowledged. Situation is some dudes went AWOL, and there's a demonstration at Sierra India we gotta deal with. We need you to return to Foxtrot India ASAP. Sort out that goddamn straggler situation, over."░

After hearing Lt. Brown's reply, Noones switched channels to the operations' frequency to get in touch with his field commander, Lt. Flynn. "Saco 1, this is Saco 2-2, please advise. Thirty-odd armed stragglers attempting to leave the Main Energy warehouse. Should we take any action or let them go? Could try to detain, or send a tailing element to see where they go. Over."

Hearing more traffic about a horde to the north, Noones relays the message to his platoonmates in earshot. "Large horde spotted by our bird moving toward CP Alpha! Gonna be a busy day, boys!"

Finally, he issued orders to his platoon, stepping out in front of the humvee now. "Squad 1, secure their weapons. 2, get them up and moving. 3, set up 360, monitor guys in the warehouse."


"Saco 2-2, do not engage. I say again, do not engage. We have an incident on Springs Island. Unknown personnel entered the AO and into Sector Charlie, heading westbound in a hurry. Possible outbreak on Springs Island. Moving to barracade the Springs Island bridge. Standby, may need assistance to address the incident, over."


The hair on the back of Roger's neck stands up as Lieutenant William's transmission comes through in a garble. An outbreak in Biddeford? If the infection was loose among the near thousand refugees that live there...it could spell the end of the Safe Zone, or at least the loss of the island"Got reports of trouble on Springs Island. Some kind of outbreak, or an intrusion. Situation's developing," Noones verbally briefs the surrounding soldiers as they work to get the stragglers moving to the collection point.Taking up his radio again, he shot a reply back to Flynn. "Understood. We are Oscar Mike to the collection point with survivors in tow, over," Noones tells his superior.


BANG!


Lt. Flynn heard it coming from the collection point. "Fuck... an infected among the survivors?" Flynn whispered as he over looked the barricading efforts of the Springs Island Bridge. Lt. Flynn heard the radio comms and replied "Saco 2 Actual, this is Saco 1 Actual. Saco 1-3 is barricading the bridge to CP Bravo. Solid copy on the SITREP. Folks going AWOL and a demonstration... Requesting that Saco 2 come to Sector Alpha to support operations to place the SZ under lockdown, how copy?"

"All channels in the AO, there are rogue elements stealing our equipment and supplies and a mass demonstration in Springs Island. Orders are to lock down the bridges and contain the situation. No one goes in or out of the SZ without express permission from me or command."

View attachment 1220084

Meanwhile, order began breaking down on Springs Island.

Looters first seize the daily catch of the fishing weirs, some distributing it freely to a gathering crowd of refugees in a fish fry with the last of the fuel while others take away all that they can carry to feed themselves and theirs.

The homeowners and majority of the councilors of this half of the safe zone, Shaun Marsden, Nancy Garter, Paul Lovell, and Penelope Howard, see where the winds are blowing and hole up inside their houses with their families and guests and refuse to come out.

A few… Troublemakers? Revolutionaries? Make their envy and resentment for them known in return, pelting their homes with rocks and whooping and hollering with every broken pane of glass as they goad them to come outside.

Less fortunate civilians hide in the apartments, or begin making for the garage and bridge checkpoint to escape the situation altogether in the wake of deserting soldiers. Those the militia are able to detain are rounded up at gunpoint as collaborators and hostages.

Major Hodges was pretty out of it, and barely gave a shit about any of this anyway, so his loyal henchman Captain Rory Spencer rallied the security forces still loyal to the standing order of things and began to set up defenses on Factory Island, blocking CP Charlie and setting up riflemen on the rooftop of the Ration Depot. However, before the rebels can even leave Springs Island, Lieutenant Flynn and his men move into their blocking positions.

View attachment 1220085

"Second platoon's already crawling around the outskirts. We won't be able to get to Saco Island easy," remarked Sergeant Southworth to Rennox and Delacroix as he lowered his binoculars. "Could send a guy out to meet them, maybe. Otherwise, we're exposed if we try to head through CP Bravo," said the defector.

Obsidian
SMTFan

First Lieutenant Rachel Bellerose stepped out of the Humvee as the passenger, her boots hitting the pavement with purpose as she approached Flynn. The air was thick with tension—looters taking what they could, civilians panicking, and policemen scrambling to stay in order. As for the driver, he also parks the Humvee and goes on standby. But her focus snapped to the collection point—where the gunshot had come from. She heard it too.

Her stomach tightened. One gunshot in a situation like this meant one thing.

"Shit..." she muttered under her breath, breaking into a jog toward Flynn. The look on his face told her he was already thinking what she was.

She pulled her FBI badge from her vest, making sure it was visible, then flashed her old identification to Flynn. "Everyone there is compromised. We cannot risk contamination inside the Safe Zone." Her voice was steel. She had seen what happened when people hesitated.

Her gaze shifted to Flynn. "We need to act now. If there was one infected, there are more. If we let even one through, this place is done."

That was not she came here to do. However things change when in war and this is a war of survival. Even though she is not a current FBI agent, nowadays no one cares what you do but what you can do.

 

[Heyitsjiwon]

Lt. Flynn stood in the auto shop warehouse with radio in hand as he constantly observed the situation unfolding. A woman approached him saying something about the warehouse. Flynn had seen this woman in passing a few times, but now was not the time to worry about it. "Saco 2 is already on route to deal with the situation. We have a bigger problem on Springs Island. If you want to be helpful, go help Saco 2 escort the inspected survivors onto Factory Island and help out in CP Alpha. They've got a horde making their way and could use another shooter." It was at that moment that all hell seemed to break loose from Springs Island as gunshots erupted from the island. Not towards them, but at other people on the Island. It was clear that anarchy was falling upon the island. "Damn it all." Flynn cursed under his breath before heading for the stairs.

"All stations, be advised. This is Saco 1 Actual. I am declaring a curfew on Springs Island. All people on Springs Island are hereby ordered to disperse from the streets and to enter a building and stay away from the windows. Anyone outside will be assumed to be a hostile. Anyone standing near a window will also be considered a combatant. You have five minutes to comply. Anyone outside in five minutes will be considered a hostile. I repeat. Anyone outside on Springs Island will be considered a hostile in five minutes." Flynn spoke into his radio on an open station. Flynn began to go to the rooftop of the auto shop warehouse where Sgt. Hunt's squad was posted. "In five minutes, you see anyone on Springs Island. Shoot them. Priority target is anyone with a gun." Flynn then spoke into his radio "All units in the AO. In five minutes, you have permission to engage anyone outside on Springs Island. Priority targets are those with weapons. We need to bring order to this FUBAR situation. Sgt. Gardner, take your squad and go support CP Alpha. Once CP Alpha is secure, return to Sector Alpha to support counter-insurgency operations."

kirilla Lorsh

 

[Miaow]

The moment the door to the refugee council opened, Hattie instinctively lowered her centre of gravity, dodging a threat she could hear but couldn't see. The safe zone sounded more like a warzone, stray bullets whizzing by, the shouting of orders, and the distant sound of what she could only guess was a helicopter. Within all the noise, she was sure she could hear the familiar groans of... infected.
"Maybe I should just stay in here!" She called out over the noise, suddenly doubting her ability to make it to the dam in one piece.
"I don't want to leave you on your own, and I've got shit to do, kid!" Kaylee responded, grabbing hold of her arm, "Keep up with me and you'll be fine!"
Hattie hesitated. Keeping up with her was the problem, her legs felt like jelly and she wasn't sure if it was the nerves or the nerve damage. Before she could protest, she was dragged out of the door.

She kept her head low, half-stumbling, half jogging across the concrete towards the dam. Though the distance wasn't particularly long, it left Hattie's heart pounding.
"See the guy behind the grill?" Kaylee began as the two approached the fry-up, "His name's Emanuel. Tell him Kaylee sent you. He'll keep you safe."
Before Hattie could argue, or even introduce herself, Kaylee had turned and jogged into the fray. The area was loud, shouting over the gunshots and voices wouldn't amount to much... so Hattie headed to the front of the queue, ignoring the dirty looks she got for doing so.

"If you want food, you're gonna have to wait your turn, kid," One of the men on the grills piped up as she approached.
"Uh, no, I'm looking for Emmanuel. Kaylee sent me," She murmured.
The man glanced up from his work... before sighing. That girl was always cashing in favors he didn't owe.
"You'd be safer indoors than behind the grill, why don't you go home?"
"I live on Factory Island and, uh..." She looked over to the chaos unfolding across the street from them. No way she was getting across the bridge and back to the medbay.
"Your parents over on Factory Island too?" He asked.
"No, uh-- I was with Ionut. The dentist? He said he had to go."
The man paused for a moment, planning his next move.
"Hand out those trays to the people in line. Might as well do something useful."

She only got a few people down the line, a stack of trays in her arms, when someone from the back sprinted forward. He clutched a radio, a crackled, broken voice echoing from it.
"They're gonna start shootin' if we don't get inside!" He yelled. Chatter immediately erupted as panic ensued.
"What the fuck?!" "I'm not a goddamn rebel!" "They can't do that!"
Hattie scanned the crowd frantically before looking back to Emanuel.
"Give me the trays and get the fuck inside," He yelled over the crowd, "I'll catch up to you."

He hastily took the trays from Hattie before she hobbled after the dispersing crowd. The nearest building was part of the dam's infrastructure, a small control building. A crowd had already formed at the door, banging on the window at the singular dam-operator who had already barricaded themselves inside. Instead, Hattie headed for the garage, ducking under the roller door as a rather selfish refugee tried to shut it. There was already a reasonable crowd of people inside, though they could definitely fit more.
"There's more people outside! The hell are you doing!?" Hattie argued, leaning up against a truck in the midst of repairs.
"You wanna get shot?! Sit down and shut up!"

 

[Pat]

Ellis
​

“Alpha, how you copy?” Ellis asked as the infected closed in, trying to raise Lt. Brown before things got loud. “I say again, get that MG coming in trained on the horde and keep the deserters bringing it in front of you and busy with the infected until something can be done with them. Take note of the occupants of the humvee in particular, like I said, one of them threatened an officer over the radio when their gunner was terminated.”

░"Copy that, FERRYMAN. Try to keep them off of us, if you can, over."░

“You heard them Daughtry. Between our MGs we should be able to keep those bastards at bay. Make our final shots count, I’ll radio ground for a new landing spot.” Ellis said, flicking radio channels.

“Ground, situation on Sierra India makes the usual landing spot unviable. Can you find a new one on Foxtrot India when we’re done defending Alpha?” He asked.

He didn’t like the idea of becoming infantry, but this was going to spend the last of their ammo, and the boys on the islands needed every hand on deck from the way things were looking.

The horde of several hundred infected charged down the Main Street of Saco, attracted by the combination of gunfire, aerial activity and ground vehicles. They headed straight for CP Alpha, following a humvee and an army pickup that had recently been borrowed by some truant troops.

Lieutenant Brown's men rushed over to the fences. A National Guardsman on top of a scissor lift opened fire with a general-purpose machine gun, mowing down a few. Daughtry's continued fire shattered a few more spines and skulls.

░"1, this is 2, I've got MULTIPLE infected contacts swarming CP Alpha, over."░

Cops and Guards rushed over and started blasting through the fences.

Daughtry fires a few bursts at the fast-moving mob of freshies. Some take rounds and go down, but most get back up, some more hobbled than others.

░"Roger. FERRYMAN, you should land in the parking zone by the train station."░

“Good hits Daughtry. Give them hell.” Ellis encouraged the door gunner as he watched Checkpoint Alpha begin opening up, dropping some and pushing around others.

“Holy shit.” Ellis remarked. He hadn’t seen this many infected swarm a safe zone since Brunswick. Is this what Maj. Hodges and the officers of the checkpoints put up with while he was upstate?

“MG delivered to your front door. Get someone to hop on it and force those deserters bringing it onto the line.” Ellis radioed Lt. Brown before turning his attention to Daughtry.

“Keep it up. Aim for dead center mass of the crowd. I want every single one of those bullets hitting multiple corpses in the horde.” He commanded.

No matter how many they cut down they kept coming.

“Daughtry, we’re going to go low over the water, door gun level with the infected on the bridge, and hit the horde from the left side, get the most meat per bullet. Short bursts, sweep bursts away from the safe zone to avoid friendly fire. Moment you’re empty we’re landing in the safe zone.” Ellis instructed as the bodies began piling up on the ground and against the perimeter. He dropped the huey, getting into position for the M60 to dole out punishment.

“Alpha,” he radioed Lt. Brown as Daughtry got to work, “drive up vehicles to reinforce the fence, gate first. Give it something to brace against when the horde pushes again so Cpt. Jenkins has time to save our asses. If any part of the wire is going to fail, that’ll go well before anything else.”

Lieutenant Brown took the chopper pilot's advice and ordered for his men to move the victors into blocking positions. A M939 series 5-ton 6×6 truck pulled up in front of the chainlink. Bleeding profusely from the razorwire, a previously-stuck zombie flopped over the fence and crashed through the cargo truck's tarp.

RATATATATAT!

Daughtry only managed a short spurt with his remaining 7.62 as the ghouls continued stacking up, crawling on top of each other, some of them being trampled. "I'm out!" he cried.

A humvee pulled up in front of the fence. Other soldiers threw some grenades, mostly only staggering the ghouls when they exploded. The ghoul that had fallen into the tarp was sprayed down by M4s once it rolled off the truck bed.

"C'mon, boys! Fucking hold!" hollered Lt. Brown.

“Can’t leave them like this.” Ellis grit his teeth from stress. “Daughtry, change of plans. You and Langley use your rifles on the infected, aim for their heads, knock climbers off the fence, I’ll try to keep this bird steady while you do.”

“Command, this is Ferryman. Alpha is holding but we need reinforcements or guys on Mill 5’s roof shooting climbers and providing overwatch. Lt. Flynn is our buffer. It doesn’t matter what is happening on Sierra if the gates of Foxtrot are under attack.” He attempted to get in contact with whatever leadership the safe zone had left.

Langley unbuckled his five-point harness and grabbed his M4, while Daughtry broke out his Leupold-scoped M16A3. Langley went full-auto on a few of the zombies that tried to scale the fences in areas where the vehicles weren't blocking, knocking them back down. Daughtry was making sure every round counted this time, keeping his weapon on semi and trying for headshots.

░"Ferryman, this is HQ, we are rendezvousing with 1 and 2 and are en route to provide support, over."░

“Alpha. Command is on the way with reinforcements but we need someone on that M240 ASAP. Everyone else, I’d advise you split them between knocking down climbers and the rest taking aimed shots through the fence. We run out of ammo here, there’s no running back to the armory before they’re on top of us and everything goes to shit.” Ellis delivered the good news to Lt. Brown along with another plan to take under advisement.

 

[southernstylefriedchicken]

In the midst of all the commotion on Springs Island was Simon, a retired Army Ranger and private contractor who was vacationing there at the suggestion of his wife, Marybeth. Simon was finally living his best life, in peace, with the ones he loved. As soon as the chaos began, Simon wasted no time and quickly grabbed his wife's wrist, starting to run towards some random building near where he was. They ran as fast as they could while chaos broke out around them, people dying, gunshots everywhere, explosions, blood, death.

By some misfortune, or perhaps by fate's choice, while running for safety, Simon's wife was shot in the lung. He felt his heart stop for a moment, while he felt his wife's hand lose its grip, and fall away as she fell to the ground, already in a state of shock due to the impact. Her flowery dress was stained red as tears streamed down Simon's face, who at that point had stopped running, and was only comforting his beloved while he waited for her to lose consciousness, and the pain to end. His hands were dirty with blood, his face wet with tears, and his heart, bitter. A feeling arose in that man's heart, the pain mixed with anger had awakened a part of him that he had buried so that he could live the pleasures of life together with the woman of his life, who was now dead in his bloody arms. Simon remained silent. He stood up, while he composed himself and began to run towards a building, from which he could hear gunshots coming from it. He ran with all his strength, entering that convenience store, and coming across a stomach-churning scene.

It was possible to see the empty shelves, with their products either missing or thrown on the floor due to the chaos, a trail of blood leading to the back of the store, accompanied by the corpse of a young adult, apparently a store employee, still alive trying to draw air into his lungs, while blood gushed from his throat. The boy was holding a .45 Colt 1911 pistol, which Simon quickly took for himself, since he would no longer need it. He checked if there was ammunition in the pistol's magazine, which had a full magazine, and one more round in the chamber. He then began to clear the entrance of the store, looking for who was responsible for such an act. After checking this, he then made his way to the door that led to the back of the store, positioning himself to enter noisily. He held the door handle with his left hand, while pointing the .45 downwards with his right hand, quickly opening the door and entering like a shadow. Simon encounters a man, holding a Remington 870 pump-action shotgun in his hand, while searching for groceries. The man notices Simon's presence, but before he can make a move, he is shot in the head, falling backwards, dead. Simon then walks over the man's body as he finishes cleaning the back of the store, ensuring that there will be no one else to catch him off guard.

After all this, Simon stops for a moment. He takes a deep breath, bottled up his feelings as he turns his attention back to his surroundings. He walks over to the looter's sprawled corpse, picking up his chest rig, which contains a radio, probably stolen from the police, and some shotgun ammo. He then puts on the chest rig, picking up the shotgun from the ground and checking to see if it is loaded. 3 slug rounds in the chamber, and 13 more in the chest rig, totaling 16 slug rounds. He then reloads the shotgun, leaving it fully loaded as he walks back to the front of the store, looking for more useful things, finding an extra .45 magazine he had found earlier behind the cashier's counter. Now, armed and full of rage, Simon prepared to begin hunting those responsible for his wife's death, leaving aside his meekness and embracing his ruthlessness. He ran out of the store, thus beginning his journey of blood and death into hell, in order to satisfy his thirst for revenge with the lives of other men.

 

[Obsidian]

The Battle of Springs Island
​

Sounds of battle ring out from Factory Island, a cacophony of gunfire that splits the air like bolts of lightning, and yet, observing Checkpoint Bravo, the guardsmen... see fit to do nothing. Factory Island holds everything of value in the Zone; food, guns, ammo, vehicles, supplies. If the horde overwhelms Factory Island, the whole Zone is lost, and yet, knowing this as well as Rennox, the guardsmen do not rush to reinforce the front line. The Corporal would not like to imagine why. Looking behind him, the sea of faces, potentially the last of America's citizens. If Rennox fails to act now, this Island could turn into a graveyard.

"Sergeant Southworth," Rennox says, turning to the man. "We need to organise our forces, and prepare a proper defence for the Island. Erect barricades, take defensive positions, determine fallback positions, plan the proper use of our limited supplies. Gather everyone who is willing and capable of fighting, and we will get to work."

"Mr Delacroix," Rennox turns to the civilian leader. "Take the cops and go put an end to the rioting on the Island. Everyone in that meeting wanted to serve in the militia. Well, now is the time for them to serve. If they have the energy to harass people, they can very well come here and help defend the Zone. And if you can convince anyone to give us any weapons or ammo they may have stashed away somewhere, that will be great as well."

Rennox works with Southworth and together they determine a defence for the Island. First, they begin erecting a barricade using the plentiful supplies of dead cars, their fuel long since syphoned away by the guardsmen, yet can still be used as makeshift barricades. A barricade is erected across Elm street and stretches to the barber shop on the corner before Pine Street, the barricade a car-length thick leaving no gaps. Along with the hand brake, the tires are slashed on all the cars, applying as much friction to the tarmac as possible.
~~~

A survivor handed some weapons out from the back of his truck. Two are offered to Delacroix, a Mini-14 with a pistol grip and folding stock, or a retro-looking AR-15 with a bunch of twenty round magazines.

Delacroix graciously accepts the AR-15. And then turns his attention to restoring order to the refugees, “Ladies and Gentlemen, if the sounds from Factory Island are any indication, Hodges won’t be a problem for much longer. But if we’re going to survive this shit, we need to restore order. All of you cops, and anyone who fancies himself a deputy, let’s go put a swift ending to this looting and gather all the people, supplies, and weapons we can at the refugee hall. If we all get our shit together we’ll survive.” Delacroix bellowed.

Sergeant Chester Stevens of the Biddeford Police Department pulled up in his cruiser, swinging onto Maple Street. He stopped the car slammed the door, bringing up his megaphone; "Everybody, return to your shelters immediately, we--" He was interrupted by a flurry of gunfire from some looters. Looked like they were helping themselves to the gas at the service station on 38 Elm Street.

Already, Officer Mire was sprawled out on the sidewalk with a bullet in the head, her mouth opening and closing dumbly. She never even got a shot off.

░"All officers stay down — we have shots fired, we have an officer down."░

Someone with a dishcloth for a face mask suddenly dropped a pair of gas jugs and unslung an AK47. Automatic fire ripped through a volunteer, Spencer Vought, as well as the guy who went to go help him, Hunter Castillo. "Garrrghhh!!"

Delacroix dove for cover as soon as he heard the gunshots. Thankfully Delacroix managed to avoid the hail of bullets, but out of the corner of his eye he saw that a lady police officer and several members of his posse were not so lucky. With an angry bellow of “Return fire! Kill the bastards!” Delacroix lifted up his AR-15 and began blasting at the looters as fast as his finger could pull the trigger. The rest of Delacroix’s band of joined in on the barrage which had a surprising degree of accuracy, hitting many of the looters that had opened fire on them. As Delacroix slammed a new clip into his rifle he barked out, “Keep at it boys, pay’em back twentyfold!”

Joseph winged one of the looters in the shoulder as he fumbled with the door to his car, sending him to the ground howling in pain. The guy with the AK ate a couple rounds as he tried in vain to reload, slumping over behind some recycling bins.

Officers Garth, Tholl and Schwamb, decked out in their tac-squad gear, pushed forward after the looters started to go down. Tholl raised his shotgun and sent some buckshot into another guy that was leaving the service station, igniting the jug of kerosene he was carrying and setting him and another looter ablaze.

Garth and Schwamb emptied their MP5s at a pickup that ran down Reuben Blake and tried to blow the checkpoint, ultimately crashing right off the bridge and into the Saco River. The officers' fire also killed the driver of a sedan in the middle the intersection, setting off the car's blaring alarm.

~~~

Next, should the horde overwhelm Factory Island, Rennox expects that the guardsmen will lure the horde to Springs Island next. Whatever guardsmen manage to escape the ravages of the horde will likely engage in a retreating action, heading for Checkpoint Charlie. Given the choice between heading for Springs Island or escaping into the unknown wilderness of the urban sprawl, Rennox predicts they will choose to head for Springs Island, followed closely by the horde. The guardsmen will retreat to Checkpoint Bravo, then retreat onto the Island, trapping everyone on the Island, making this a desperate last stand.

Once the horde crosses the bridge, it will slam slight against the barricade on Elm Street, unless it is lured down Pine Street. Using the horns on the dead cars, the horde will be led down Pine Street, which is to become a shooting gallery. Rebels will mount the roofs of nearby buildings, as well as the windows on upper floors buildings, shooting down on the horde as it makes its way down Pine Street. Rennox and Sergeant Southworth use more cars to block any side passages between buildings, ensuring the horde is led down towards the demolished bridge.

The thought did occur to Rennox to try to force the horde to walk right off the end of the bridge, into the river. Doing so would irreversibly contaminate the river, making fishing impossible, both here and all down stream. Otherwise, it will need to be turned down Maple Street, and turned back towards Elm Street, behind the first barricade.
Once the horde is back on Elm Street, it will need to be led down to the Asian restaurant on the other side of the road to the Refugee Council Hall, and pooled in the open spaces around the restaurant. Cars with working horns will need to have heavy bricks tied to their horns, blaring out so the horde will be drawn away from the Refugee Hall. All the while, the refugees will be held at the Refugee Hall, as well as the warehouse behind it. When the horde hits Elm Street from Maple Street, the refugees will be led behind the Council Hall to the very edge of the river at the very back of the island, and led through the warehouse yards until they reach Maple Street.

It is Rennox's hope that, by the time the horde pools around the restaurant, that Maple Street will be clear of zombies. If so, the refugees will then make their escape off the island, through Pine Street and across the bridge. Whether they can break the horde on the Island, or manage to get the refugees out of the Zone safely, either would be as much of a success as can be managed.

Either way, if the horde overwhelms Factory Island, the Zone is lost. All that would matter then is escaping with as few casualties as possible.

~~~

Rennox's radio blares, alerting him to an officer down.

"Oh, for fucks sake! We really don't need this right now!" He gripes, turning to two nearby defectors. "You two, with me. Looters have gone feral, shooting up the Zone, one reported fatality. They had their chance to talk, but chose to kill instead. And the penalty for murder is summary execution. Shoot them on sight, and shoot to kill. Let's go, and stay alert."

Rennox heads out with the two defectors, his gun and wits at the ready, the rhythms of battle as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.
Corporal Rennox and his small team of defectors move in on the looters, but are quickly spotted as Rennox's radio goes off and are fired upon, forcing them to take cover. It only lasts moments, a pause in the gunfire, then the defectors rise out of cover and shoot the looters dead, quick and clean. Only when the coast was clear did Rennox and his defectors lower their guard. Rennox rushes over to the corpses while the defectors rush to Delacroix's side.

"Bastards!" Rennox growls at the dead looters, pulling out his pistol and shooting each looter square in the head, assuring they will not become undead. Cannot be too careful, after all. The Corporal quickly turns to Delacroix. "The guardsmen are going to storm this island in minutes. Quickly, get everyone you can to take shelter, lock doors and windows and draw any curtains or blinds. No one is to come outside until WE say so."

Rennox then pulls out his radio, and tunes it to the guardsmen's frequency, more specifically that of the officers. "This is Corporal Rennox to Lieutenant Flynn. With respect, sir, if your men shoot some wayward kid or some random innocent, this island will become a bloodbath. All hostile actors on the island have been neutralised. Tell your men to stand down."

The fear of what may happen in the next few minutes makes Rennox's blood run as cold as ice. Will they really shoot anyone who crosses their path? For the sake of the civilians, he does not wish to test the theory. One spark, that is all it will take, one little kid's broken little body and this powder keg will explode into a full-on civil war.

Some of the militiamen that had tagged along now listened to the marine as he spoke. "So, uhh, Corp. We staying outside and trying to call their bluff, then?" asked Ryan Green, doffing his ballcap and wiping some sweat from his brow.

“Tell all the women and children to take shelter in doors, everyone else who can hold a gun should take cover outside. It’ll send them a nice and clear message on what will happen if they start shooting, without putting our families at risk.” Delacroix said, as he reloaded the AR, its clip spent from his barrage.
Some of the rebels exchanged glances, including other National Guardsmen, but they ultimately went along with their commanders. Some men exhaled uneasily or double-checked their weapons. This was it, there was no turning back.

In defiance of martial law, the armed survivors took up positions. Some makeshift barricades were pulled up, but not enough to satisfy Rennox's initial plan; only just north of the apartments.

~~~
To no one's surprise, the rebels faired poorly against the guardsmen. Rennox, ducked behind cover, knew that there was simply no getting out of this now, no way he will live to see the next day. It is over for him, he knew, but perhaps not for his troops, such as they are. A marine's first duty is to his mission, but Rennox has failed his mission. Now, all that is left is to save those under his command, as much as he is able. He cannot do this alone, however, for he would need help. And only his God can help him now.

"My Lord, I know it is sacrilegious to ask this of you, but please, if you can help me, help me now."

There is only one chance to turn the tide. Rennox knows where Sgt Southworth is, who had the LAW. If he can get one good shot on the guardsmen, then perhaps, beyond destroying the humvees, it will create enough of a distraction to push for an advantage.

"Lance Corporal," Rennox radios Nedring. "Grab a grenade launcher, and shell the enemy formation on my signal."

The Corporal then puts his plan into action, making for Southworth's position, making for the LAW.
Rennox took a bullet in the vest before he could make it to the bodies of SGT. Southworth and CPL. Kenty, knocking the wind out of him.

Nedring ordered for Private Edwards to use his M203, and sent a round towards Factory. Dirt and gravel kicked up after the explosion.

The M2 Browning on the rebel humvee chattered away.
The militia began to disintegrate, the bluff they had tried to call just a fantasy. Several of their number were already chopped up by automatic fire.

"Get inside," yelled Olly Hart. "Quick!"
Rennox hisses as he holds himself against cover, thankful not to feel the trickle of blood. Hearing the panicked yells, screams of terror and shrieks of the dying, he knows there's no turning this around now. "All remaining units," Rennox speaks down his radio, on rebel channels. "Drop any smoke grenades you have and disengage in the cover. Get to safety."

"Lance Corporals," Rennox switches to their channels. "Your orders are to disengage as well. We need to get reinforcements from friendly territory. Head for the fishing boats, and we'll attempt a retreat across the river."
Jackson holds his SAW carefully, saying a quick prayer to the saint Michael as he hears Rennox speak to him. Shit had gone south too quick for his liking. Just a year ago he was getting shipped to Afghanistan, and now he was back in the US fighting a worse war

“Affirmative Sir.”

Jackson got ready to retreat towards the fishing boats, intending to lay down covering firing as allied units would be making their way towards the boats as well.

“I’ll lay down covering fire when I reach the boat, Godspeed.”

He’d wait for the signal and then push off toward the fishing boats, he wanted to be the first one to reach the boat so he could lay down covering fire as soon as he got to it. He knew though that atleast nedring would be at his tail.

“Nedring, get the boat up and running so we can extract.”

Delacroix watched, horrified, as Rennox and the defectors turned tail and ran for the fishing boats. Delacroix wasn't about to abandon his family and his fellow refugees. "Everyone who still has balls, head to the Refugee Center with me. I'm not about to let Hodge's thugs slaughter our families without a fight. We'll make our last stand there."

 

[Lorsh]

As the soldiers from HQ and Platoon 2 began to arrive, the soldiers gunned down the remaining ghouls clinging to the wall, taking advantage of the time the had to go for headshots as the ghouls clung to the fences like insects, only several making the effort to climb - they were quickly met with concentrated fire. Soon, all of the immediate threats were eliminated. A medic helped the soldiers from the toppled scissor lift, who appear to have sustained minor injuries from their fall. Men slip out of the gate and begin to finish off the zombies that remained twitching, crawling, or limping. Some were bisected and still moving, others missed portions of the heads yet still moved ever so slightly. The soldiers stabbed the undead remains scattered across the bridge with bayonets and smashed them with the butts of their rifles, shooting any of them that moved too quickly for comfort.

░"Baseplate, 1, this is CP Alpha. Infected have been neutralized, over."░

Captain Jenkins finally pulled up in his PMV, a desert-silver G-Wagen. He put it in park and got out with First Sergeant White as they unslung their carbines. Jenkins pulled down his dust mask and did some yelling and pointing, and some troops ran across the parking lot to take part in the firefight with Springs Island, taking cover behind some parked cars.

The groggy Captain was met with Sergeant Noones and the question of the stragglers. "Take them inside Mill 5. If they're cleared for bites, as you say, then I suppose they're welcome in." Jenkins went on to apprehend the deserter who had earlier threatened Lieutenant Mills.

Two-actual scowled. "Use the fucking chain of command, Sergeant," chastised Lieutenant Brown. Maybe he was unhappy that the platoon sarge's backup didn't arrive in time, or something. "You report that to me, then I tell him."



░“Ground, Ferryman is returning home. Keep the landing zone clear.”░ Ellis radioed ahead of the huey’s arrival, pulling up and away from the bridge and towards Factory Island.

░"Copy that, Ferryman. You're clear to land in the uhh, parking lot, over,"░ replied Sergeant Mann.

The rebels on Springs Island opened up with their Browning M2 and shot off a couple grenades. On the loyalist side of the National Guard, Private Kwan was decapitated by a .50 round, while Privates Poplaski and Archer are wounded by shrapnel.

The fusillade that that Factory Island and Flynn's men sent back to the rebels was overwhelming. Bullets shredded cars to ribbons, and a few militiamen go down. The forces on Springs Island are pinned badly, and things only take a turn for the worse when a lucky M203 round takes out the M2-mounted humvee on the rebel side, creating a fireball that engulfs Specialist Warner and Private Gaines.



"Holy fuck! Boys, take cover! Take cover!" The volume of fire is too much for the refugees. Heads and limbs sailed off of bodies as .50 BMG rounds slammed home. The defectors that had joined Delacroix quickly began to reevaluate their decisions as well. The only prospect of immediate safety lay indoors, and so the lines quickly become broken. Joe's rebels and other allies forced their way into buildings to hold up, becoming mixed in with the other civilians. Joseph Delacroix had managed to flee to the refugee council hall, but it was already crowded to such an extent that a rifle couldn't be shouldered.

Lance Corporal Nedring, one of three usurpatious U.S. Marines involved in the uprising, untied a small motorboat and pushed it out into the water. Grenades didn't work, so it was time to bug out. Grenades didn't work... Molly's M203 guy was gunned down, and she barely escaped the chaotic rout herself. She clambered inside the boat, trying to pull-start it while Love covered her with his SAW. "C'mon," Molly muttered. After a few solid yanks, the boat snarled to life. "Guys!" Molly urged. "We gotta MOVE."

 

[Lord Bradorian]

Roger Noones
Written w/ Lorsh Heyitsjiwon Pat kirilla ZarbofftheFirst

Still dealing with the survivors at the Main Energy warehouse, Noones was taking things under control, mostly. The majority of the stragglers had obeyed his commands and sat down, their weapons either stowed or dropped in a pile between his soldiers and the rows of sitting survivors. Noones was surprised that most seemed to be in okay condition, though some did look worse for wear. Ionut and Jones were going to have a field day, processing this many people - nothing like what they dealt with before the bridges were out though.

Still, there was a minority that headed back into the warehouse to collect their things and move on, the alternative he'd given to anybody who didn't want to enter the Safe Zone...but their reluctance made him suspicious. Moving back behind his humvee, he'd steady his rifle on the hood pointing generally toward the warehouse, joining a gunner pulling security with his support weapon. Turning on his radio, he continued to trade traffic with Saco 1 and the command element of his platoon.

"Saco 2-1 this is 2-2. Mission objective nearing completion. Fifty stragglers detained for intake. Thirty armed men moving on. Interrogative; sit-rep at CP Alpha? Over."

After hearing Lt. Brown's reply, Noones switched channels to the operations' frequency to get in touch with his field commander, Lt. Flynn. "Saco 1, this is Saco 2-2, please advise. Thirty-odd armed stragglers attempting to leave the Main Energy warehouse. Should we take any action or let them go? Could try to detain, or send a tailing element to see where they go. Over."

Hearing more traffic about a horde to the north, Noones relays the message to his platoonmates in earshot. "Large horde spotted by our bird moving toward CP Alpha! Gonna be a busy day, boys!"

Finally, he issued orders to his platoon, stepping out in front of the humvee now. "Squad 1, secure their weapons. 2, get them up and moving. 3, set up 360, monitor guys in the warehouse."
--
"Saco 2-2, do not engage. I repeat do not engage. We have an incident on Springs Island. Unknown personel entered the AO and into Sector Charlie, heading westbound in a hurry. Possible outbreak on Springs Island. Moving to barracade the Springs Island bridge. Standby, may need assistance to address the incident, over."
--
The hair on the back of Roger's neck stands up as Lieutenant William's transmission comes through in a garble. An outbreak in Biddeford? If the infection was loose among the near thousand refugees that live there...it could spell the end of the Safe Zone, or at least the loss of the island

"Got reports of trouble on Springs Island. Some kind of outbreak, or an intrusion. Situation's developing," Noones verbally briefs the surrounding soldiers as they work to get the stragglers moving to the collection point.

Taking up his radio again, he shot a reply back to Flynn. "Understood. We are Oscar Mike to the collection point with survivors in tow, over." Noones tells his superior.
--
"Saco 2-2, this is Saco 2 ACTUAL, acknowledged. Situation is some dudes went AWOL, and there's a demonstration at Sierra India we gotta deal with. We need you to return to Foxtrot India ASAP. Sort out that goddamn straggler situation, over."
--
Lt. Flynn heard a gunshot coming from the collection point. "Fuck... an infected among the survivors?" Flynn whispered as he over looked the barricading efforts of the Springs Island Bridge. Lt. Flynn heard the radio comms and replied "Saco 2 Actual, this is Saco 1 Actual. Saco 1-3 is barricading the bridge to CP Bravo. Solid copy on the SITREP. Folks going AWOL and a demonstration... Requesting that Saco 2 come to Sector Alpha to support operations to place the SZ under lockdown, how copy?"

"All channels in the AO, there are rogue elements stealing our equipment and supplies and a mass demonstration in Springs Island. Orders are to lockdown the bridges and contain the situation. No one goes in or out of the SZ without express permission from me or command."
--
After having delivered the stragglers to Dr. Jones and leaving behind his security team of six non-172nd Guardsmen, Noones led his platoon in their humvees back down the street toward Sector Alpha. On route, the Platoon's convoy made contact with several uniformed and non-uniformed men who seemed to be surveilling them from Springs India.

The platoon's humvees parked on the side of a congested street, partially given cover by heaps of rubble where a building used to be. Gunners swiveled their weapons around to face the contact, but Noones hesitated to order a dismount or for his men to open fire.

Using the humvee's radio, Noones sent a transmission to his field commander.

"Saco 1, this is Saco 2-2. We are en route to Sector Alpha, you may have visual on us...down to two understrength squads with me, left Cpl. Wells pulling security at collection point, " Noones began, then pausing briefly, before continuing to feed information slowly into the radio, enunciating to ensure comprehension.

"Visual contact on suspected spotters nearby CP Bravo, 150 meters west of our position. P.I.D. on Southworth and Delacroix. Weapons are visible, none pointed, but they have optics on us. Ready to engage, over."
--
"Saco 2-2, do not engage unless you are fired upon. We've seen enough senseless violence today. Requesting QRF to Sector Alpha Collection Point. I heard a gunshot come from there. Make sure everything is all right over there, 2-2. Out."
--
Sergeant Noones' platoon had heard the shots from the collection point, and the men had begun to chatter about how things were popping off right where they just were.

"A few minutes ago we could've got some..." Roger muttered to himself before hearing Flynn's orders come over the radio. His men collectively groaned as they were ordered not to engage the suspected combatants they saw on Springs Island.

Following orders, Noones redirected his platoon back the way they'd come, back to the collection point. "Copy that, Saco 1. En route, over."

The platoon, numbering about a dozen soldiers at this point, pulled up in front of the large cargo doors of the warehouse where some of the combat engineers' humvees were already parked. Finding chaos unfolding at the collection point, the soldiers of second platoon would rapidly dismount and join the defense.

"Need visual on the doctors!" Noones ordered over platoon-wide comms. His main priority here were the brainiacs - as boring as he found their rhetoric, they might've been the most important people around, given their smarts and whatnot.

Noones gave his platoon orders to fan out and make contact with elements of the 133rd, Cpl. Wells' squad, az well as civilian staff. And of course, terminate any hostiles encountered.

Noones moved towards a crowd of people outside the collection point with his gun at a low ready, staring down any refugee who gave him a look and questioning some about the whereabouts of Ionut and Hadley, and if there are any infected still active. He scanned the crowd for a triage area where the doctors might be at work.
--
Hadley was restraining Corporal Frechette when he saw Sergeant Noones walking towards him with soldiers in tow. He raised his head and shouted over the crowd.

“Sergeant Noones! This man was scratched in the eye! We’re trying to amputate to stop the infection!” Hadley watched as Ionut took out a scalpel and angled it towards the Frechette’s tear duct. In a single breath, Ionut’s scalpel was behind Frechette’s eye. Blood gushed out from eye socket. With each motion, a severed muscle let out more blood.

Frechette screamed and bucked in Hadley’s arms. One fluid motion sent Hadley reeling back with a bruised chin. Frechette rocked his head forward, and Ionut watched as his scalpel vanished from his hand.

Frechette sat up with his mouth agape, letting out short coughs of blood. The scalpel, narrow and thin as it was, was deep in the channel behind the eyeball. The blood vessel, cut behind the eye and inside the skull cavity, fired out blood in an endless stream. The now cranial hematoma was expanding.

Ionut and Hadley huddled over Frechette looking for a tool to fish out the scalpel, but the damage was done. They worked and watched as Corporal Frechette succumbed to the expanding hematoma squashing his brain.
--
"Amputate his fuckin' eye?" Noones asked as he glanced at the patient and then put his head back on a swivel. "Damn it," Noones said under his breath as he surveyed the scene. People were panicking, he could hear shouting, but no shots for the last couple of minutes - maybe that meant the security team did their fuckin' job and they were clear, but he couldn't count on it. He looked back over his shoulder as the doctor's voices became raised, and the...fuckin' eyeball-ectomy went south. Roger contorted his face in anger - another life lost.

"We gotta speed this up!" Roger exclaimed to the doctors as his men began to gather, delivering situation reports on what was going on within the collection point. "There's shit going down -- some kind of...unrest. We need to move, it is not safe here. How many haven't been checked?" Noones asked the doctors, pointing at the crowd of refugees.

"We're bringing in those we can, and clearing out those we can't. We're out of time," Noones said. What he was demanding was a severe, immoral solution - at best turning away, at worst killing the survivors who hadn't yet been cleared by Jones and Albescu - but it was true that this ad-hoc quarantine zone was in a highly indefensible position, in light of the recent making of enemies on Spring Island.

Speaking of which, while Noones was trying to portray the gravity of the situation to the doctors, their conversation was interrupted by a volley of gunshots from that side of the river. Sounded like low-calibers, some auto, and someone was blasting off a shotgun too. Roger assumed that bad actors on the refugee-held island were taking their oppurtunity to rob and kill their neighbors, before order is restored.
--
Hadley got up from Frechette, and took a snap headcount as he looked around the collection point. Beau had checked the rest of the intakes from what he remembered. It looked like three survivors had died, and with Beatrice included, that meant 46 people were cleared.

“We’ve got 46 people cleared. That’s everybody. I don’t see any injured people. If we need to move we can do it.”

Hadley was struggling to absorb what just transpired before his eyes. Maybe it was adrenaline, fear—or shock that made him able to even give a coherent statement. He had to depend on whatever it was for the moment.
--
Rachel Bellrose takes her radio out after having spoken with Lieutenant Flynn at Sector Alpha, her gaze hard as she can just assume the chaos unfolding just at the collection point. Her other jobs are overseeing operations and maintaining command on the behalf of Major Hodges so that the whole command doesnt go fubar and as well supporting units with her marksmanship but her mind was already racing through the next steps. The outbreak was confirmed, and they couldn’t afford to waste another second. She pressed the radio to her ear, her voice crisp, commanding, and unwavering despite the tension.

"All units, this is Baseplate. Be advised, outbreak confirmation is now official. Protocol 2A is in effect. I say again, Protocol 2A is active. All civilians must be inspected for potential biohazard symptoms. Prepare for containment procedures. Any civilian displaying signs or symptoms is to be neutralized immediately. Execute orders and report status. Over."

She released the transmit button and exhaled sharply. The words were harsh, but there was no time for hesitation. The safe zone wasn’t safe for long. Rachel makes her way back to the humvee to the makeshift command point.
--
Some of the survivors cried, but most of them remained stonefaced even after losing three of their own. Three more of their own, really. Everyone was anxious to get into the zone... they were hearing things nearby that weren't very reassuring, though. Gunshots, car alarms, explosions.

"Fuck's going on over there?" asked a man, who removed his ballcap and gave his brow a wipe with a handkerchief.

"It's doomed. They're already overrun. You heard the woman on the radio."

Specialist Wells brought up his radio.

"Base, this is 2-1, where is the outbreak? Over."
--
"2-1, this is baseplate, outbreak confirmed at the collection point. All cleared civilians are to be escorted to factory island. Be advise, 2-1, I am tasked to assist on your escort, how copy?"
--
"Then it's time to move out," Noones stated, turning on his platoon's comms and issuing orders. "Regroup, get everyone outside by the humvees, we're bringing these people back to Sierra Foxtrot."

Turning back to the doctors, he explained his intentions. "I'll get you guys and the newcomers to the bridge and hand you over to Captain Jenkins. It-" the Sergeant began, before receiving an incoming transmitting from 1LT Bellrose, an officer of the 133rd. She seemed to also be working the incident at the collection point, but her info was a little outdated. As her report came in about a zone-wide outbreak and the enacting of appropriate protocols, some of the refugees started to panic. Bellrose's transmission along with the cacophony of shots and shouts heard all around them was a convincing sign that things were going to hell on Saco. Roger was beginning to become convinced himself - every two fuckin' seconds there was traffic about deserters, demonstrations, outbreaks and hordes. But he had to save face - his mission was to get these people, most importantly Ionut and Jones, to Factory Island. He'd do it, matter what dangers lie ahead of him, carrying so much ass into a warzone.

"This is Saco 2-2 broadcasting on all channels, outbreak at collection point is contained! All infected neutralized! We are evacuating to Sierra Foxtrot over CP Charlie. Saco 1, Saco ACTUAL, how copy? Over."

Now Noones responded to requests from Lt. Bellrose for a sitrep and rendezvous.

"Baseplate, this is 2-2. We are departing mission area with forty-six survivors in tow. After securing them, orders are to support defense at CP Alpha. Suggest we meet en route to CP Charlie. Over."

All this being said, Roger again turned to the medical staff. "Get your shit! We're out!" he said, putting it bluntly, before walking out of the room to begin herding survivors outside to stage the escort.

Addressing the refugees who were still panicking thinking the zone had been overrun, Noones spoke, as he corraled them outside. "If the Zone had been lost, we'd know! We'd be getting damn near trampled. The situation is under control!" he barked, signaling with both knife hands toward the large bay doors of the warehouse, rushing to get people moving. "You will be safe! Just follow instructions!"
--
"Good work, 2-2. Baseplate receives all." She released the transmit button, already shifting her focus meeting them en route to CP charlie. Few minutes early she was able to grab her M14 as she makes her way to join up with 2-2.*
--
The gunfire renews from Springs Island after several minutes' pause. Noones' platoon had been hearing shots from a few blocks into the city.
--
The Humvee jolted over uneven ground as Rachel closed in on Saco’s position. Spotting the squad's convoy moving at a walking pace to accomodate the survivors they had in tow, she eased off the gas, rolling up alongside them.

“Sergeant Noones!” She calls out to him

She kept one hand steady on the wheel, eyes scanning the road ahead and the surrounding buildings for movement. She raised her voice slightly over the engine’s hum.

"Sitrep—any issues on your route?"

Then gunfire comes back on Springs Island as Rachel joins Noones to look at that direction.
--
"Are there infected in Biddeford!?" Shouted CPL. Chris Hawke in inquiry as the lead humvee of second platoon rolled along the pavement of Main St., swiveling the vic's top-mounted SAW in reaction to every distant report of small arms fire.

Nobody responded from the humvee. Inside were Sgt. Noones, his radioman, driver and field X.O Sgt. Schuwer, and doctors Jones and Albescu whom had booted the rest of his team from their usual seats. Instead they were on foot with an element of Anderson's squad, escorting the refugees.

It wasn't a long journey to Charlie, to rendezvous with Captain Jenkins, about fifteen minutes' walking distance. There, Cap had set up defenses in reaction to whatever was going on in Springs Island. As far as Noones could tell, the whole place had gone to shit - there was some sort of organized unrest and it was about to turn ugly.

Fuck, it already had. Looking into his rearview he spotted another humvee pulling up to his slow-moving convoy. Behind them, he heard the reports of even more weapons fire...whoever it was, there was a lot of them. Sounded like dozens of different people letting off rounds. All Noones could think was, 'how the hell did this get so out of hand so quick?'

"Doesn't sound like infected to me. Sounds like people are turning on eachother," replied Schuwer to Hawke, taking a drag off of a Lucky Strike he'd bummed off of Roger. The platoon sergeant had a couple of cartons stashed from a convenience store he'd raided on outbreak day, so he was pretty generous with them, though he only had about a dozen packs left. He handed them out to his men to keep morale up.

"Stay focused," Noones briefly lectured his men as the humvee he'd spotted in his rearview mirrow pulled alongside the third vehicle in the platoon's convoy, presumably asking where to find the CO, before overtaking the rest of the convoy to then come alongside Noones' vehicle.

"Nothing yet! Gonna link with Captain Jenkins and figure out what the fuck we're gonna do with all these people," Noones replied to Rachel in reference to her query about trouble on the route. "I appreciate the assist, but I should have it from he-" Noones began, before a transmission came in from Lieutenant Flynn ordering weapons free on anybody outside on Biddeford. Garbled reports from various sources of the 133rd specified that armed men, some in uniform, had defied their CO's order for the island to lockdown and taken up fighting positions. "Jesus christ..." Roger mumbled to himself as a huge volume of automatic fire and several explosions erupted only ~150 meters behind him. Stray rounds impacted all around his convoy.

"Fuck!" Cpl. Hawke shouted as a shot glanced off the side of the humvee, almost catching him as he spun around in the partially enclosed cupola of the humvee.

"Simon, pass me the radio," Noones requested. Once obliged, he'd transmit to SGT. Kramer, squad leader of second platoon's third squad, which had been pulling up the rear of the partial-strength convoy.

"Saco 2-3, turn around and head to CP Bravo to support first platoon. Take your orders from Lieutenant Flynn, and engage all visible targets on Springs Island. R.O.E. is freefire, if they're outside or peeking from windows, ice them. Once we've handled these stragglers, we'll regroup with you there. How copy, Sgt. Kramer?" Noones asked, before turning back to Bellerose, who's vehicle was still driving parallel to his own, moving at a crawl of around five miles per hour.

"Miss Bellerose! I've just dispatched the last vehicle in the convoy to regroup with Lieutenant Flynn at CP Bravo. Suggest you go with to provide support and advise!" Noones shouted. Despite the fact that the woman's car was only a few feet from his, the sounds of gunfire and the concerned chatter of the escortees was enough to make him have to shout in order for Rachel to hear him.

As Bellerose and Kramer's vehicles made an about face, pulling a u-turn and heading into the belly of the beast -toward the sounds of the battle which had erupted between the two islands of the Saco SZ - Noones' convoy would finally reach CP Bravo, and make contact with Jenkins' forces, whom had set up defensive positions on the bridge between Springs and Factory Islands.

As Noones pulled up, he and the other humvee containing Saco 2-2 parked and the soldiers dismounted, corralling the doctors and refugees onto the other side of the line while leaving gunners and security elements with the humvees, reinforcing Jenkins' defensive positions.

"Captain Jenkins!" Noones called out as he moved up to the commander's position. "Sgt. Noones of 172nd reporting in, sir. I've got Doctors Albescu and Jones, as well as about...fifty armed refugees here with me," Noones explained, glancing over at the mob of intakees whom were talking amongst themselves and looking around nervously at the soldiers of Jenkins' detachment whom were clearly on edge, with their guns directed west toward Biddeford.

"What are we going to do with these guys, Captain?" he asked. All he wanted to do was make these guys secure and free up his platoon's manpower to join the fight against the insurgents on Springs Island, especially since his platoon commander Lieutenant Brown had announced the all-clear at CP Alpha, their defenses having held up against the horde. But with so much chaos happening on Biddeford and the fifty intakees still being, for the most part, armed - he was paranoid of leaving them to their own devices. He needed some input from his higher-ups on how to handle the situation.

Captain Jenkins finally pulled up in his PMV, a desert-silver G-Wagen. He put it in park and got out with First Sergeant White as they unslung their carbines. Jenkins pulled down his dust mask and did some yelling and pointing, and some troops ran across the parking lot to take part in the firefight with Springs Island, taking cover behind some parked cars.

The groggy Captain was met with Sergeant Noones and the question of the stragglers. "Take them inside Mill 5. If they're cleared for bites, as you say, then I suppose they're welcome in." Jenkins went on to apprehend the deserter who had earlier threatened Lieutenant Mills.

Two-actual scowled. "Use the fucking chain of command, Sergeant," chastised Lieutenant Brown. Maybe he was unhappy that the platoon sarge's backup didn't arrive in time, or something. "You report that to me, then I tell him."

-- (NEW WRITING)
As the lecture from his platoon C.O. came over the waves, Roger scowled and shook his head, but said nothing, biting his tongue. "Fuckin' Captain Saco," snorted SPC Theo Badd, fingering the barrel of his shotgun precariously, like an idiot. "Yeah, the chain of command, he says..." gripes PVT. Clark, who sat next to Badd, boasting his underslung M203. Roger liked to keep his support and special weapons close at hand.

"Shut the fuck up. Watch those stragglers." Roger curtly ordered, but his heart wasn't in it. He was more than just beginning to lose faith in Lt. Brown, but he couldn't tolerate the rank and file verbalizing it right in front of him. If they didn't respect Brown's command, who's to say they'd respect Noones? Needed to keep that shit in check.

"This is your new home!" Roger shouted to the refugees as his humvee led them to Mill 5 - now on the mostly secure Factory Island, Noones had detached his command element from the other two squads he'd been moving with, who were now a part of the mishmash of troops confronting the insurrection on Springs Island under the commands of Captain Jenkins and First Lieutenant Flynn. "Settle in, get to know your neighbors and how things work around here. Report to the command building, it's across the street, by the end of day with any personal documents you may have to be inprocessed and receive IDs - this is how you'll get your rations! Failure to check in will result in disciplinary action. Do not cause trouble!"

That was pretty much all the direction Noones gave the survivors after dropping them off before peeling away in the direction he'd come from, toward Sector Alpha, where the action is. He wasn't a fuckin' babysitter, he was a warrior - time to start acting like it. This straggler situation had taken up enough of his men's time already while the rest of the company was either fighting terrorists or mowing down hordes, bullshit. Roger picked up the radio to transmit his status to his commanders.

"Saco 2 ACTUAL this is Saco 2, survivors are squared away at Mill 5, given instructions for processing. Awaiting orders, suggest we regroup with Captain Jenkins and Lieutenant Flynn, over."

After receiving whatever comes from Brown, he also transmits to First Lieutenant Flynn.

"Saco 1 this is Saco 2, my platoon is awaiting orders. What can I do for you?" ​

 

[ZarbofftheFirst]

Dr. Hadley Jones

​

Hadley attempted to refocus himself as he donned new surgical gloves and a new mask. He had to throw his suit and pants in a bin because of blood specks he found on the surface. Probably from the poor soul who was torn to shreds at the old gathering site. He psyched himself up to encounter death and suffering again before he stepped out into the Medbay’s treatment floor.

Dozens of injured laid on beds, on makeshift stretchers and sometimes on mats on the floor. It was a disappointing sight, like some TV reel about the revolution in Sierra Leone. Hadley had to think better of it. This is all they had, they had to make do.

Hadley got to work organizing the nurses, who were at the moment just trying to get a basic handle on the injuries to all the civilians. Some are in great distress, with gunshot wounds and major lacerations from being near combat. Others have major bruises or a broken bone that’d need setting. The lucky ones got some cuts and light bruises, but even Hadley knows that the collapse of society also means a collapse in cleanliness. Even something minor could become a debilitating or life threatening injury if not at least bandaged.
Hadley and the medical team counted 48 patients in the Medbay. Plenty had minor injuries which could be quickly taken care of, however over twenty of them would require some kind of surgery or operation.

Resources in the Zone were hard to come by as is, and the influx of wounded people was making the snap-calculus in Hadley’s head grim. Hadley had seen enough suffering for at least two lifetimes in a single day.

You’re still in this race? When do you think they’ll come with the pistol and the tarp?

Hadley exhaled and started to divy up work. “We’ve got to pool together what we’ve got for the critical patients. They don’t have a lot of time. We can have a few nurses work on the lighter injuries. But we have gunshot injuries and shrapnel. We can’t leave them hanging. Cael, take five nurses and use the back of the Medbay for surgery. I and a couple nurses will use the front here for immediate surgery. The rest of you are clearing up the minor cases.” Hadley and a couple of the professional nurses donned their cleanest medical gear and began to see the severe patients.

A forty-year-old man was wheeled into the makeshift operating theater in the Medbay. He was fading in and out of consciousness, with very severe injuries. Small caliber gunshot wounds to his upper chest, his gut, and his right leg. Hadley and his team made quick work identifying the injuries and cobbling together an action plan. They cut apart his clothes, already stained with blood and dirt, and began identifying bleeding arteries.

“Where’s mah daahherr, wha…” the man mumbled.
Beau Whitaker shot back a reply, “She’s doing just fine sir, you just have to take some deep breaths and we’ll get you to her, okay?”

Hadley moved his hands in a flash, swapping out gauze and sterile clamps, allowing the nurses to finally halt the bleeding. It took surprisingly little time to keep the man alive, or at least it seemed that way in the blur of time Hadley experienced. As Hadley did his best box stitch near the man’s clavicle, he saw the man stabilize in a shock fueled sleep. Hadley checked for vitals by hand, and at the very least the man was okay. Hadley let out a sigh as the man was wheeled out by two nurses. The man was in incredible shape for having three gunshot wounds. They were very severe, but if the clamps held and he was nursed to physical fitness, he could make a full recovery.

Hadley barely had time to take a breath before a twenty-something was wheeled in with debilitating injuries. A rifle wound, from his left shoulder downward to the bottom of the right side of his rib cage. He was gasping through non-existent lungs, and coughing up horrific amounts of blood. Hadley and the nurses worked themselves to the bone evacuating the blood from the man’s chest cavity, even so far as to put a hole at sternum height and tip him over. Hadley watched as life departed from the young man’s eyes. Packets of gauze, sterile packets, and thread littered the ground as the efforts to save the young man’s were left wanting at the gates of heaven.

Hadley watched a nurse walk out of the operating theater. Chloe Porter’s resolve had broken. Hadley threw off his gloves and rushed Chloe to the side. She stood screaming at the ceiling. They didn’t have time. Hadley knew a member of the team was going through a crisis but they had to keep working. Hadley ran over to the light injury section of the Medbay, and grabbed Carter Toud, who was busy putting a bandage on a little girl’s bruised leg. Carter saw the devastation in Hadley’s eyes as Hadley blurted out, “I need you in the O-R.” The two ran back to the operating theater and prepped with the rest of the team to attend to another surgery as three soldiers were wheeled into the Medbay with injuries waiting to be treated.

A woman in her fifties laid on a proper gurney with a debilitating injury. Her hand and the furthest end of her forearm had been blown to smithereens by a rifle round. Hadley and the team worked through sweat and mental fatigue to find her bleeding arteries. Hadley and the most experienced nurse Beau Whitaker made a snap call. They extracted a hacksaw from a sterile tool box. The team got together and held the suffering soul against the gurney. Hadley watched in horror as the old woman wailed. The rattling and clicking of saw blade against bone tore into Hadley’s subconscious, but he couldn’t let go of the old woman now. A nurse gagged as the woman’s hand plopped against the concrete. The team forced down their disgust as they sewed and cauterized the woman’s stump.

Hadley worked steadily through the many injured people who came to his operating theater. He stepped out of the shades, and surveyed the Medbay, burnt out from constant gore and viscera. Many had to be left in beds for recuperation, but in all the chaos, there was only one corpse, covered by a white blanket, that sat at the far end of a hallway beyond the main Medbay area. If there was a God, maybe they were at work in that Medbay. Hadley turned around and ran back into the operating theater as a severe case was wheeled in in short order.

Medical Skill Check Stats:
1 dead (1 civilian)
2 with lifelong disability (2 civilians)
48 patients treated successfully (including PFC Archer, PFC Trent, and Trooper Meyer)
60 medical supplies left in stockpile