The camp Don and Ash had been taken to wasn’t an actual camp in the traditional sense. It was SHQ.
The difference hit imdiately the mont the helicopter had descended through the floodlights earlier.
The last ti Don had seen SHQ, the structure had looked almost abandoned beneath the citywide blackout.
Dark windows. Empty checkpoints. Hallways operating under failing ergency systems while blood and bodies spread through portions of the compound during the collapse.
Now the entire place looked awake.
Floodlights blazed from every corner of the massive compound, casting harsh white illumination across rows of military tents, mobile command stations and temporary dical facilities erected throughout the grounds.
Thick cables stretched between generators humming near supply depots while portable communication towers blinked red against the night sky overhead.
At the center of it all stood the main SHQ structure itself.
Alive again.
Ard soldiers covered nearly every visible entrance while mounted surveillance systems tracked movent across the compound continuously.
Reinforced checkpoints had been established around the primary access routes with barriers, scanning stations and overlapping guard positions positioned in layers around the building exterior.
The activity never stopped.
Soldiers moved constantly between tents carrying crates, dical equipnt and ammunition cases while helicopters descended and lifted off from multiple landing zones around the compound.
dical personnel rushed between patients laid out across cots beneath temporary triage sections while hazmat teams pressure-washed blood and debris from portions of the pavent near the southern side of the grounds.
Jets of chemically treated water sprayed across concrete while cleanup crews dragged body bags toward transport trucks waiting nearby.
Elsewhere, engineering teams assembled defensive barricades around sections of the periter while ard patrols rotated through overlapping routes between floodlit sectors of the compound.
The entire place carried the atmosphere of a military command center established too quickly in response to sothing catastrophic.
Urgent.
Overloaded.
But controlled.
Even the buildings themselves reflected it.
Every entrance into SHQ proper remained heavily guarded. Soldiers checked credentials manually while portable scanners swept across anyone attempting to enter.
So civilians were turned away imdiately. Others underwent secondary screening beneath ard supervision before being escorted deeper inside.
Whatever was happening within those walls, the military clearly didn’t want unauthorized people anywhere near it.
Inside one of the larger dical tents near the eastern section of the compound, Don sat on the edge of a dical bed wearing nothing except his briefs.
The tent interior stretched far wider than it initially appeared from outside. Rows of cots and treatnt beds filled most of the space, separated unevenly through hanging privacy curtains and portable dividers.
Most were occupied.
So patients slept beneath thermal blankets while others sat upright receiving treatnt from exhausted-looking dical personnel moving constantly between beds.
The air slled sterile in the worst possible way.
Antiseptic.
Blood.
Chemical decontamination spray.
Portable filtration systems humd overhead while fluorescent lights cast pale white illumination across the entire tent.
Near the entrances, ard soldiers remained stationed beside temporary security checkpoints watching the patients as carefully as the dical staff did.
Don looked down briefly at himself.
Most of the dried blood covering his upper body had already been partially cleaned away during the decontamination process earlier, though dark remnants still clung stubbornly across portions of his hands and neck.
Bruising spread heavily beneath the fluorescent lighting now that the blood no longer concealed most of it.
His ribs still ached faintly.
So did his shoulders.
His muscles remained tense despite the relative safety surrounding him now.
The initial infection scans had cleared him within minutes after arrival. Portable systems had swept his blood chemistry, neural activity and biological markers almost imdiately after extraction.
But the amount of blood covering him had complicated things.
So had the fact he was a superhuman.
More tests followed.
More questioning too.
Military personnel cycled through the tent regularly asking variations of the sa things.
Identity.
Affiliation.
Activities during the outbreak.
How had he survived?
Who had he been with?
Had he witnessed the initial attack?
Had he encountered infected civilians directly?
Had he seen Commander Miller?
Don answered what needed answering.
Ignored the rest.
Throughout all of it, one soldier had remained positioned beside his bed watching him carefully beneath a lowered visor. Reinforced restraints sat nearby atop a dical tray.
Not applied.
Just visible.
A reminder more than anything else.
Don understood the caution.
They didn’t know him.
Didn’t trust him.
And in a situation where infected individuals could appear normal for hours before turning violent, paranoia made sense.
Thankfully, things had shifted after his information entered the system properly.
The change had happened fast enough to notice.
Less suspicion afterward.
Less scrutiny.
The dical staff still treated him carefully, but the atmosphere around his bed beca noticeably more professional afterward instead of openly cautious.
One nurse had even apologized awkwardly for the restraints remaining visible near him at all.
From the way they behaved though, Don could tell this wasn’t standard.
Nas didn’t usually clear people that quickly during a crisis like this.
Charles.
That had to be it.
But Don didn’t dwell on the thought long.
There were more imdiate concerns.
After sitting there another minute, he pushed himself off the bed and stretched slowly.
His muscles protested imdiately.
Not badly.
Just enough to remind him his body still hadn’t fully recovered despite the regenerative enhancents constantly working beneath the surface.
Several joints popped softly as he rolled his shoulders backward while faint soreness lingered beneath the motion.
Still functional.
That was enough.
Now he needed clothing.
Or at minimum, answers regarding where his actual belongings had ended up after decontamination. His comms gear was gone. So were his contacts.
The dical personnel assigned to monitor him had simply told him to rest before hurrying off toward another section of the tent after receiving a call from sowhere outside.
Don glanced around afterward.
Other patients occupied the nearby beds quietly. So slept heavily beneath blankets while others stared upward toward the canvas ceiling with hollow expressions that barely reacted to the activity surrounding them.
Through the tent walls, the sounds of the compound filtered constantly inward.
Boots moving across gravel.
Helicopters descending sowhere beyond the periter.
Shouted orders.
Generators rumbling endlessly in the background.
And beneath all of it—
Crying.
Panicked voices asking questions nobody nearby seed capable of answering.
Elsewhere soone scread loud enough to cut through the tent entirely before dical staff rushed toward the sound.
Pain.
Grief.
Shock.
The particular horror that ca after surviving sothing too large to process properly.
Don’s expression never changed while listening to it.
He’d heard sounds like this before.
Enough tis now that they no longer affected him the way they probably once would’ve.
The realization didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have.
Several minutes passed.
Then several more.
Nobody returned.
No answers about his equipnt.
No clothes.
No instructions.
Eventually Don exhaled quietly through his nose before stepping off the dical platform entirely and walking toward the tent exit wearing nothing but his briefs.
Cold night air hit his skin imdiately the mont he stepped outside.
The noise followed right after.
The entire compound roared with activity around him while floodlights illuminated rows of tents stretching across the grounds in every direction.
Soldiers and dical personnel glanced briefly toward him as he erged before returning to whatever task occupied them monts later.
A few looked twice though.
A tall young man covered in bruises and fading blood stains walking barefoot through a military compound in his underwear tended to attract attention regardless of circumstances.
Nobody stopped him.
Floodlights cast long harsh shadows across the pathways separating sections of the camp while temporary walkways had been laid down over wetter portions of the ground to keep equipnt moving properly between sectors.
Don stood there quietly for a mont taking it in.
Then his thoughts shifted elsewhere.
Ash.
He sighed again.
He had no choice except finding her eventually. She’d beco his responsibility sowhere along the way.
Or at least attached herself closely enough to him that abandoning her now would create more problems than simply locating her again.
So Don started walking.
Barefoot.
Briefs still the only thing between him and the cold night air.
His expression carried the detached indifference of sobody who’d stopped caring about appearances several disasters ago.
He’d only made it several steps before soone erged from another tent directly ahead of him.
Don stopped automatically.
The woman nearly walked straight into him before noticing him standing there.
She was shorter than him by several inches though still massive by normal standards, built heavily beneath UPSDF tactical gear that looked customized for specialized deploynt work.
At first Don didn’t recognize her.
Harnesses crossed the uniform strategically alongside ammunition pouches positioned for quick access while a visored combat helt concealed most of her face beyond the lower half of her jaw.
Nothing especially morable.
Then he saw the rifle.
Massive.
Absurdly oversized even compared to anti-material systems Don had seen before.
The reinforced fra extended nearly the full length of her body while stabilizers, targeting attachnts and an oversized precision scope sat mounted along the weapon housing itself.
Recognition clicked imdiately afterward.
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