The walking dead - a dead world requiem ( TWD X CoD Crossover) Chapter 4 - Illusion of Security

The situation wasn't good. From one direction, a large number of undead were slowly making their way toward them, while from the opposite side, two National Guard Humvees were driving in their direction. Everyone in the group looked relieved at the sight of the military, but Andrew wasn't sure it was a good thing. He rembered from both shows, Fear the Walking Dead and The Walking Dead that, at so point, in their attempt to regain control, the military would start executing anyone they suspected of being infected — which could an anyone not already inside a designated safe zone.

Everyone began moving faster toward the Humvees and away from the approaching undead . Andrew tightened his grip on his weapon as the Humvees stopped in front of them. Eight soldiers stepped out, weapons ready but not raised. One man, presumably in command, stepped forward and asked if any of them were infected. Everyone quickly replied that they were not. The soldier's gaze fell on a teacher whose clothes and hands were stained with blood.

Panicking, she explained that it wasn't hers — that she'd tried to save a woman who was bitten. Others backed up her story, vouching for her. The CO, still cautious, ordered his n to engage the approaching infected , as they were getting dangerously close. The soldiers moved past the group and opened fire. Most of their shots hit them in their bodies, with only a few finding their mark in the head. Andrew was surprised that even now, they hadn't realized headshots were the only way to stop them. And the fact that they didn't attempted to shoot them , made him think the situation might not have fully spiraled out of control yet.

Being at the back of the group, closer to the fighting, Andrew noticed the anxiety in the soldiers' faces as they fired. Approaching them, he picked off a few of the undead with clean headshots. His quick, precise kills caught the soldiers' attention. Before they could say anything, he spoke.

"Stop wasting your bullets on the body. Aim for the head — it's the only way to kill them ."

To prove his point, he dropped a few more with well-placed shots. The soldiers exchanged looks, then began following his lead. With the headshots, the tide started to turn in their favor.

While Andrew was doing that , the teachers frantically tried to convince the commanding officer that their colleague wasn't infected. They poured water over her bloodied hands to show she had no wounds. It was clear the CO didn't want to stay any longer than necessary. He admitted they didn't fully understand how the infection was spreading and didn't want to take any risks.

That's when Andrew cut in.

"The main way this spreads is by being bitten ," Andrew said, voice firm. "You'd have to have an open wound for blood on your skin to matter."

He didn't give the officer a chance to argue. "We have to leave , the gunfire is attracting more of them, is getting too dangerous to stand around."

The CO looked around, seeing more undead drawn in . His expression hardened.

"Alright," he finally said. Addressing the soldiers, he ordered, "Form up around the survivors — we're moving out." Then he turned his attention to Andrew and the rest. "There isn't enough space in the Humvees to get everyone to the safe zone. We'll move ahead and ensure that the path is clear ."

Climbing back into one of the Humvees, he picked up the radio and spoke, "Dispatch, this is Unit Echo-2', we've encountered a large group of survivors and are escorting them to safe zone Alpha ."

After a few monts, a response crackled through the radio. "Copy that, Echo-2. Do you require support? " The CO quickly replied, "Affirmative. A large number of infected are in pursuit. Additionally, new information has been obtained — when engaging the infected, is advised aiming for the head."

"Copy that, Echo-2. The information will be transmitted to all units," ca the reply. After a brief pause, dispatch added, " We're sending a unit to support you."

"Copy that, dispatch. Echo-2, over and out."

...

The group moved in the direction the two Humvees had gone, with soldiers positioned on each side to ensure their safety. Now aware that headshots were the most effective way to deal with the infected, the soldiers were able to neutralize threats without wasting entire magazines. As they walked, Andrew made his way over to Jun-hyuk . He told Jun-hyuk to keep the pistol and to make sure it stayed hidden so it wouldn't be discovered. He told him that they would most likely confiscate his equipnt and weapon, so he would be needing that pistol and would co to retrieve it later .Andrew also instructed them to stick together and keep an eye out for anyone showing signs of sickness — there was always a chance the safe zone might be compromised .

Jun-hyuk was conflicted for a mont but eventually nodded. After making sure none of the soldiers were watching, he approached one of his students. With the student's help, Jun-hyuk carefully hid the pistol along with the two spare magazines inside the backpack, positioning them in a way that they wouldn't be noticed unless soone searched it thoroughly.

After several minutes, as they approached an intersection, two military trucks arrived, accompanied by the two humvees that had left earlier. Reaching the group of survivors, the trucks made a quick U-turn. From each truck, a squad of soldiers dismounted and imdiately ford a firing line alongside the soldiers already present , opening fire on the approaching horde. Now prioritizing headshots, they aid more carefully, though it still took several rounds to land a hit due to the infected's erratic, jerky movents.

Despite their efforts, the growing number of infected , forced the soldiers to gradually fall back, the relentless advance and grotesque, mutilated appearances of the undead clearly taking a psychological toll on them. While the soldiers held the line, the survivors quickly climbed into the waiting trucks. Once everyone was aboard, the soldiers hurried into their vehicles — either the humvees or the trucks — and without wasting a mont, the convoy sped away, heading toward the safe zone.

In the truck, Andrew watched the soldiers riding alongside them. He felt trapped, being taken deeper into the city. He didn't know much about these safe zones — the only thing he rembered from the shows was that, sooner or later, they turned into death traps. Thinking it over, another mory surfaced: the bombing. Fuck. When everything falls apart, they'll start bombing the city. Andrew's pulse quickened. I need to find a way out of here — fast.

Thankfully, in the chaos of the evacuation, no one had paid him much attention, giving him a chance to stash his weapon and gear in the duffle bag. Still, with his earlier interactions with the soldiers, he doubted he'd avoid suspicion for long, making any escape attempt even riskier.

As the convoy rolled through the city streets, Andrew noted the military checkpoints at intersections, fortified with sandbags and armored vehicles. At one point, they even passed a tank. The sight of it all gave the uneasy impression that the city was already halfway lost.

His thoughts were cut short when the truck slowed to a stop. Monts later, the soldiers dismounted, motioning for the civilians to do the sa. Andrew grabbed his duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder before jumping down. Once the trucks were emptied, the group was ushered toward the main entrance , where dical screenings was being perford , guarded by soldiers with sandbag emplacents and a mounted machine gun trained on the road.

They were led forward. In front of them stretched a long line of people — civilians clutching bags and backpacks filled with whatever personal belongings they could grab before fleeing. Abandoned cars lined the streets outside the compound, left behind like discarded shells. The air was thick with tension, the sound of distant gunfire occasionally breaking through the uneasy murmur of the crowd.

Andrew hung back, scanning the area, hoping to find a gap, a way to slip out unnoticed. But luck wasn't on his side. While the others joined the line, he was approached by the officer from earlier, now accompanied by two ard soldiers.

"I'm Staff Sergeant Blake Carter," the man said, his tone firm but not hostile. "I need you to co with us — and to hand over your bag."

Andrew's gaze flicked around, but not seeng any other option . Reluctantly, he slung the duffle bag off his shoulder and passed it over without a word.

The teachers, students, and remaining employees watched him go, unease on their faces, unsure of what was happening.

At the entrance, Andrew was given a quick but thorough dical check — blood pressure, temperature, a flashlight in the eyes. Then, with a curt wave, he was directed deeper into the compound.

The grounds were crowded with military tents. So served as makeshift field hospitals, treating the wounded and the sick. Inside, soldiers moved briskly between patients, while others stood guard, weapons slung across their chests. Other tents were cramd with displaced civilians, their faces etched with exhaustion, fear, and hopelessness. Children clung to parents, so crying, others eerily silent. A few people sat on crates or blankets, staring into nothing, broken by what they'd seen or lost.

The human cost of the collapse was everywhere — the sharp, sour scent of sweat and fear lingered in the air, and the sounds of grief and quiet despair blended into an oppressive atmosphere that hung over the camp like a fog.

Inside the Georgia World Congress Center, the scene was no better. The vast hallways were packed with even more refugees. Rows of military-style folding bed's filled the open spaces, while clusters of civilian tents provided what little privacy was left. People huddled in groups, murmuring quietly, their eyes darting anxiously toward every loud noise.

Andrew was led through it all, up a flight of stairs guarded by two grim-faced soldiers. Past them, he was escorted toward a set of offices, now hastily converted into the National Guard's command center.

Andrew was led into the office of the officer in charge of the military operation within the city. The commander sat behind a desk, a military-grade radio resting on the corner beside a stack of scattered reports and a sidearm within easy reach.

As they entered, the officer who had brought Andrew in snapped a salute.

"Sir, I've brought him as ordered," he reported crisply.

The commander nodded. "At ease," he replied, and the officer relaxed his posture.

With a brief gesture, the commander motioned to the soldier holding Andrew's duffle bag. The soldier stepped forward, placed the bag on the desk in front of him, then snapped a salute.

"You two are dismissed," the commander ordered.

Both soldiers exited, leaving Andrew alone in the room with the commander and the Staff Sergeant standing off to the side. The door shut behind them .

Out of habit, Andrew straightened his posture in the presence of a superior officer, clasping his hands behind his back in a crisp, military stance.

The commander regarded him for a mont before speaking.

"I'm Lieutenant Marcus Keller," he said, introducing himself. "Commander of the forces tasked with containing the pandemic in Atlanta."

His gaze sharpened as he continued.

"I've been inford about you — your equipnt, the way you handled yourself, and the information you seem to have. Frankly, your posture alone doesn't suggest a simple civilian."

He paused briefly, then leaned forward slightly.

"So tell — are you with the governnt? FBI? CIA? DHS? Or one of those other alphabet agencies I don't get to know about?"

Thinking fast and with a firm tone, Andrew responded, "None of them, sir. My na's Andrew rcer , forr U.S. Army Ranger, rank of Sergeant." Truth was, Andrew didn't know much about this version of himself military career to offer anything else.

The lieutenant raised a brow. "Forr?"

Andrew nodded, replying calmly, "Yes, sir. Discharged due to injury from deploynt."

"Do you have any docuntation to prove that?"

Hearing that , he internally panicked " Fuck , i didn't think of that . " Checking his pants pocket, Andrew pulled out his wallet. Inside, along with his ID, he found a folded docunt. Unfolding it, he realized — to his relief — that it was a discharge paper, and even better, with a struck of luck,the details matched what he'd just told the lieutenant. Letting out a small breath, he handed the docunt over.

The lieutenant took it, scanning it for a mont before nodding. "Alright. It checks out." After a short pause, he added, "Now, do you mind explaining your equipnt?"

Opening the duffle bag , he looked in , then pulling out the MP5, the lieutenant continued, "And your weapon. I'll assu the knife used to make that makeshift spear was yours as well. "

Thinking for an answer, Andrew t his gaze, speaking with the direct, level tone of a man used to briefing superiors. "Yes, sir. I prepared the gear because I noticed what was about to happen. Saw the signs early on — people getting sick . I wasn't about to sit around unard." He paused, then added, "I also encountered one of them."

The lieutenant's brow furrowed. "One of… them?"

"Yes" Andrew nodded. "I call them 'undead's ' ."

That caught the lieutenant off guard. He leaned back slightly in his chair, clearly unfamiliar with the term. "Undead? What exactly do you an by that?"

Andrew didn't hesitate. "In short, sir — dead people who still walk among the living. Bodies with no pulse, no higher brain function ."

The room fell silent for a mont, the tension heavy in the air.

The lieutenant narrowed his eyes, processing the implications. "Are you telling those… infected out there are dead?"

Andrew nodded firmly. "Yes, sir. Can be labeled as infected the ones bitten by an undead ."

Andrew decided to be careful with what information he gave. It would be problematic for him to reveal too much without having a reasonable explanation for how he had obtained that information.

The lieutenant didn't respond right away, a muscle working in his jaw as he considered the information. He exchanged a glance with the Staff Sergeant nearby, then looked back at Andrew.

"Alright," he said finally. "I've got a few more questions for you."