MAP OF HARRISBURG (c. July 11th, 2021 - Reclamation Day)

*It was estimated that around 60,000 soldiers and volunteers fought against the vector horde in the Battle of Harrisburg. Around 24.8 million people (civilians + service members) lost their lives throughout the twenty-day Delaware Campaign.

——

The forest's expanse gave way to open grounds of farmlands, farmhouses cropped up here and there, some half a mile apart. I was glad to see them after driving through too much green. The sunbaked road turned to asphalt, the smell of dry grass and tar, the whiskery barley giving way to civilization—a post office there, rotting shacks and barns, street lights, a rural bus stop, a roadhouse diner with the CLOSED sign. We were back on track.

The further we drove, the more the houses pressed against each other until they looked about the same in their dictatorial and manicured HOA kind of way, now sure that we had reached the city's northern suburbs. I glanced down at the map to confirm it: Centennial Park.

The backroad was rarely used by the residents; I could tell from the cracks and gaping holes on the asphalt, just some off-beaten path toward the woods for hikes and trails. There was only one regular road out of the suburbs, a bridge over a small creek south of the neighborhood, and I'm guessing that was where the military would make camp to blockade the area—a chokepoint.

"What the hell happened here?" Alfie muttered behind me. I looked out of the window, watching the half-open houses and their broken windows, the owner's luggage strewn on the front yard, the cars left abandoned on the driveway. Then a cat bounced out of one open window, running through the front yard then the sidewalk, disappearing behind some hedges. The sight wasn't out of the ordinary like other abandoned towns and cities across the Red Zone. However, Centennial Park was an affluent neighborhood with dozens of McMansions, the streets tagged with a high-income zip-code.

"I think they evacuated this neighborhood in a rush," Yousef said. "And a bad job at that."

I shook my head. "They evacuated the rich people out. Yeah. But I think the others broke in and took the shit they left behind." Of what value they are now, I wouldn't know. I doubt printed paper buys luxury these days.

I looked around each corner and intersection and also checked up on the CCTV cameras we set up around the RV. So far, no signs of vectors, but I held on to our luck tighter nonetheless. From the side mirror, I watched our little convoy drove slowly and quietly through the street, the frat boys from the truck gawking and pointing at the nicer mansions. Logan, Miguel, and Jun guarded the tail while driving the Honda Civic.

My eyes landed on the rearview camera, which showed the van with the gnome and the dildos. The passenger side window was open, a woman lounging on the seat with her feet sticking out without a care. Any vector could have reached in and pulled her out quickly. The driver, a man with a goatee, seemed to be smoking, and when he let out a breath, smoke drifted out of the open driver's side window! I groaned inwardly, almost wanting to smack some sense into them. At least Colin and his family had a good instinct to put metal gratings over the minivan's windows even though a few punches would knock it loose. They didn't secure it adequately enough. Things to talk to them about later if we're going to survive this.

"There!" Haskell shouted, pointing ahead. "I see them."

"Oh, thank God! I thought we're not going to find them," Alfie said.

"They looked armed," Yousef pointed out. "And they don't look happy to see us."

"No one looks happy when you try to go up against their rear end without any invitation, dude. This is supposed to be a secret gate, remember?' Haskell said.

The soldiers had blockaded the entire street, extending for at least two blocks, with chain-linked fences, barbed wire, and put up multi-purpose blue tarp sheets to obscure the other side and the bridge. Two watchtowers flanked the sliding gate with a soldier on each tower, connected by a platform over the entrance where two more soldiers now trained their rifles at us, but they didn't pull the trigger. Hanging by the gates were the logos of FEMA, Red Cross, and CRA together, then other signs with the biohazard symbols strewn along the walls, announcing: MASKS ON. NO WEAPONS. HEALTH CARDS REQUIRED FOR CROSSING. Another sign detailed and labeled some of the symptoms of infection: VISIBLE BITES. FEVER. LETHARGY. MOOD SWINGS. BLOODSHOT AND TWO PUPIL EYES. NOSE BLEEDS. VIOLENT BEHAVIOR. IF SEEN, REPORT & STAY OUT! DO NOT TOUCH!

I had no idea how many soldiers were inside, but there were at least four by the gate. One of the soldiers hailed for us to stop, and Haskell obliged.

"What now?" Haskell asked, but then he did a double-take, squinting at the soldier on the platform. "Hey! That's Alex up there." He grinned widely.

Alex had close-cropped hair like the other male soldiers, brawny for a short guy, black hair over bushy eyebrows, big round eyes, and a snub nose.

Peter peered out of the windshield and nodded. "I thought he'd be the first one to bite it. I didn't know he had it in him."

"I reckon you two know him?" I asked.

"Yep. Part of our class," Haskell said. "Dumb son of a bitch, though."

"And the other guys?"

Haskell glanced at their faces. "Um, I don't know them. The one in the watchtower looks somewhat familiar, but no. Can't really tell how many of West Point made it out of Albany. But if Alex Garrett made it out, a lot of them probably did."

"Let's hope Captain Ramos isn't one of them," Peter said.

I flinched, an image of a man towering over me. Ramos was the guy who shot me on the leg, spilling out the fucked up things he wanted to do to me once he got his hands on my flesh, and it didn't hit me until that moment that he was not joking. I had no plans of meeting him again. From what I gathered with Haskell and Peter, he held grudges for life. And I just gave him one by humiliating his team when I fought them in the woods. And killed one of his men. Even though it was by Henry's hand, he probably blamed me for that, too.

Haskell's smile quickly dropped. "Oh, fuck. I burnt a lot of bridges with that guy."

"Can't say he'll really put a welcome mat if we showed our handsome faces."

"Nothing handsome when he's hammering nails into your cheeks. You burnt more bridges with him after Albany and got him chewed out by the CO. You know how he was when he fucked up or when he believes someone screwed him over, even though he deserves it."

Peter shrugged. "What can I say? I hate his guts. Damn, feel good doing it, too."

Haskell shook his head, chuckling. "You and your weird kinks."

I turned to Alfie. "Take Indy to the cabin and keep him inside. I don't want him to suddenly run out of the door." And get shot. I shuddered.

Alfie nodded. "Hey, Indy! Come on, boy! Follow me!" Alfie raised two fingers and pretended he got a treat between them.

Indy hesitated at first, looking at me then back to Alfie, but decided Alfie probably had food, so he went after him. He got tricked, and Alfie shut him inside the room quickly. His soft pawing against the wood echoed. Sorry, bud.

The sliding gate opened. Four more soldiers streamed out, their rifles aimed at the RV. The leader, a woman with black hair put up into a ponytail, approached first, shouting for us to get out.

"Let me and Haskell do the talking," Peter insisted to me. "They're part of my class, especially Alex. Hopefully, they'll recognize Haskell and me." He scratched his stubbly beard, probably realizing he should have shaved it.

"I want to hear what he has to say," I said. "I'll keep quiet as long as I get to listen in."

"Fine. I can tell him you're military. Hell, you already looked the part." Peter smiled, but then he dropped it. "What if they're not letting the others in?"

"Let's cross our fingers that they will."

Peter gently grasped my hand. "I'll make sure we make it across, Bren. I promise. You and me."

I drew my hand back from his touch and let out a smile, hoping that I wouldn't offend him. Though, I couldn't read his reaction. "Good to know. I'm glad we're on the same page then. For everyone."

"Alright," Peter said. "Er, make sure to take your weapons out. I don't want to give any of them a reason to shoot."

Peter and Haskell got out first with their hands raised, making sure they did not have any weapons. I followed close behind with hands raised over my head, my weapons left inside the RV, though I got a magnum .22 revolver and a knife strapped on each ankle, hidden by my pants. I observed the soldiers, noting the two hatchbacks I could take cover from when they started shooting. One was ten feet away, and I calculated how I would reach it without biting the bullet, but then Alex's shouts from up the platform pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Holy fucking shit! Look what the cat dragged out! Is that you, Gauthier? Hoss?"

"Yeah. It's us, Alex," Peter said with a leveled tone. He stared down the barrel of the woman's rifle, but she quickly lowered it when Alex recognized him.

"You know this guy?" The woman asked. Her name tag said: Garcia. She was tall and willowy, though I had no doubt that she could put up a good fight when called for. She stared us down like how I would look at a vector.

"Hell yeah! He's a cadet from West Point like me, Garcia. We got assigned on Albany together, thought the fucker was dead. Hold on. I'm gonna climb down."

Garcia gave a curt nod to the others, and they swiftly lowered their weapons. I relaxed and put my hand down, not letting it show on my face that I was glad there wasn't a gun pointed at me anymore. I kept my hands in their plain view, letting them know I wouldn't pull any stunts unless I had to. Garcia kept giving me odd looks, sizing me up. A smirk crossed her lips, and I realized she didn't deem me a threat. None of them did. They looked at Peter more—bigger and stronger—and thought he was more dangerous than the short lanky stick next to him.

The soldiers' attention suddenly shifted over my shoulders, and I turned around to find the others had gotten out of their vehicles. I gestured for them to stop and glad that they did. I mouthed to Colin to stay back, and he extended his hand out to push the others back from getting closer.

Alex went out of the gate and strode toward Peter, extending his hand out, and Peter took it. Alex pulled his arm and drew him into a hug. "Good to see you, brother." Alex went over to Haskell and gave him the same gesture. "When Nunes says some West Point cadets are going to be using this gate, I didn't know it'll be you two assholes."

"Well, glad to see you made it out of Albany, Alex," Peter said, chuckling. "I didn't know a bitch like you can survive that."

"Ha! Ha. I see your mouth is as rotten as it has been, Gauthier."

"I keep it sharp."

"Do you know how many got out?" Haskell asked.

Alex laughed. "About half of our class. I know! More than you think? Crazy, right? Hell, I thought we were done for! I guess you can thank General Clemons for that."

"General Clemons is still alive?" I asked, hoping.

"Fuck yeah, he is! He did a tactical retreat, neighborhood by neighborhood. Still, once he secured enough routes out of the city, he initiated a caravan and got us all out before the nerve gas and napalm burnt the city to the ground. Five thousand out in a massive caravan and kept those monsters off our backs with heavy artillery and air support. We hit Binghamton first, then Scranton, and we continued all the way here to Harrisburg. Been here ever since. What about you?"

Peter answered, "After the walls fell, we fled into the woods, hoping we could scavenge what we found from town to town. Got into some rough scruples here and there, especially with the Alphas. You ever heard of them?"

The other soldiers chuckled. Alex laughed the loudest. "Have I fucking heard of those dumb fucks? Ha! They're everywhere, my man! Terrorists. All the lot of them. They gave us a ton of trouble as it is on the road, in Harrisburg, too, especially when Reclamation Day is fast approaching. Those Rambo, tough-shit wannabes are desperate to prolong this fantasy of theirs of being top dog in the Red Zone. We're gonna put a stop to that." He then looked at me. "Who the fuck is this?"

"That's, uh, Bren. Lieutenant Watts. He's a soldier from a town called Colby. He helped us get away from a lot of trouble."

"Really? Colby? That town's gone. Alpha territory," Alex said.

Garcia huffed. "Until a group took them out a month ago. Heard it all over my CO talking about it since they can now send supplies up to Buffalo and Syracuse without Alpha interference."

"I heard one guy took them out," another soldier commented.

"Heard it was some devil wolf himself," another one said.

"Shut up, Abel," Garcia hissed. "One guy can't take out the Alphas on their own, and certainly no devil wolf took them out, either. It's probably the infected that did it. Delaware County is an infested zone now."

"A lot of people who escaped Colby got here and are talking about it. They swore it was true," Alex said.

"Crazy people swear on anything. That's why they're called crazy. Or traumatized. Whatever fits." Garcia pointed at me. "How about you, lieutenant? Since you were there, you see anything that looked like a devil or a wolf?"

My eyes widened, trying to think of what to say. Peter gave me a look that said not to say anything, but my tongue had a mind of its own. "We fought them, but we got out as fast as possible." I then gestured toward the others. "We've been escorting these civilians since then, looking for the next SZ. As you can see, we haven't found that yet."

"Ah, yes. Nunes said something about that. The problem is that we're not supposed to take any civilians into the city since the president's announcement. You know how the military's pushing the campaign hard, right? They need the city cleared out before the fighting begins. We can't have civilians running around when we're putting down the infected. Bad for the press if we shot some innocent kid running around with his momma, especially when all major TV networks will be filming the event."

"Why's that?" Peter asked.

Alex shrugged. "It's supposed to boost morale, so CNN, MSNBC, and even Fox News have been filming across the city for days now to bolster support across the country."

"And Canada, don't forget," Garcia said. "We're gonna be on TV fighting monsters in two days. Gotta get good on that close-up for everyone, you know?" She cackled.

"Surely you can allow at least twenty-five civilians through the gates? I'm not asking you to take a hundred. Just the people you see in front of you," I said.

"I'm sorry, but the orders came from the top," Alex said. "You do know there are like three massive hordes converging toward Harrisburg, right? It's been all over the news. The entire city's on high alert and has been in a major evacuation for weeks. Then, about a week ago, the Alphas decided to interject, and they've been disrupting everything across the city. We haven't had a change of assignments for a long time."

"And good food," Abel muttered behind Garcia.

"Wait a sec," Peter held his hand up. "The Alphas are here?"

Alex answered, "Yeah. In Baltimore, DC, Lancaster, pretty much a coordinated attack. They bombed the rail yard yesterday, which is essential for our supply chain into the Red Zone in the coming months. That's gone. Poof! The top brass is fucking pissed, and they're not risking to let in civilians in case they work with the Alphas or are already infected."

"I can vouch for the people behind me that none of them are Alphas or infected," I said. I thought it would have been obvious given we had people of color in our group and the pride flag and Black Lives Matter literally hanging off the van with the dildos bobbing. No Alpha would dare invite us to join their exclusive club.

"Some of them might still be infected," Garcia added. "You never know."

"I've seen one turn into them, sir," I said. "You get sick real quick within four hours, and do they look sick to you?"

Garcia narrowed her gaze at me. "I don't quite like your tone, lieutenant."

"I don't mean anything by it. I'm just stating the obvious."

"We are not letting them in. Ever. Orders are orders."

"But—"

"Lieutenant Watts. Perhaps it is not obvious to you, but per CRA policy, civilians found outside the walls are required a three-day quarantine with 24/7 monitoring before integration into the Safe Zone. As you know, Reclamation Day is within two days. We won't have time to watch over civilians when we're too busy fighting the infected pouring into the city and securing routes for our men to safely cross the Red Zone. This gate is supposed to be for scouts only. You are supposed to send these civilians to the designated entryway for proper screening with professional doctors, or did you miss that during your briefing months ago?"

I bit back my tongue. I didn't think she would believe that I was one of them, but she was playing along, anyway. I bit back my tongue, yes...but only for a second. "It must have slipped my mind when we're too busy fighting those fuckers off our back and not dying."

Before Garcia could say anything, Peter interrupted her. "Who is your commanding officer?"

Alex shifted on where he stood. "Our CO is currently in HQ, but he'll be back tomorrow."

"Then, who's next in command?"

Garcia paused for a moment, then a smile crept on her lips. "I am."

Shit. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing. "What am I supposed to do with these civilians?" I asked.

"Look around you, lieutenant," she said, gesturing toward the abandoned mansions. "Pick one."

——

"So, they're not letting us in?" Logan asked incredulously.

We had made camp in one of the mansions a couple of blocks away from the outpost, a five-bedroom house with an electronic gate and high enough walls for protection, but the electricity was out, so we had to push and slide the gates off manually. I didn't explain to everyone the details of my conversation with the soldiers aside from that they wanted us to camp out for the day outside the wall until they could properly assess us tomorrow or send a doctor for a check-up. Of course, all of that was bullshit. They weren't evaluating anything, and no doctor was coming, lies to keep everyone calm. I didn't want everyone to start panicking and start a shoot-out once they stopped complying. I had seen that at the Albany gates too many times.