, Sunday

Reclamation Day

Morning came.

It had been three months and three days since the outbreak began in New York. Three months and three days of constant running, fighting, and drawing blood that I had lost count of the quiet nights I had cried myself to sleep, thinking to myself why I had deserved to live in such a hellish place, or what sins were so heinous that some deity would grind and crush our souls into nothingness. But I had never been a religious person, so I would smack myself to get my head together and move on to more practical stuff.

And that meant the war.

When President Marshall said that today's events would define every human being on the planet, he wasn't exaggerating. With billions of people watching across the globe, the combined military forces of the United States, Canada (and an assist with Mexico, Great Britain, and France) advancing across the Delaware line was the most well-documented piece throughout human history, down from the tantamount victories in the Battle of Baltimore, the Beat of the 3rd battalion, or the Maytown Flowers. And also down to the darkest days from the Drowning of the Chesapeake Bay, The Panic of Rochester, the March of the Twenty-Thousand...

And the Massacre of Harrisburg.

I remembered the fervor, tension, and awe that day rippling within Harrisburg and the rest of the country, anticipating the success and dreading the failure of the entire war. Sgt. Murray took us to a hiding spot while we waited for the military to cross the river. He had found an abandoned apartment, a two-story penthouse, on top of a luxurious condominium. Since the owners weren't going to come back, we might as well stay there for the rest of the day. Murray had used it as a hideout when the Alphas would breach downtown, staying there for a couple of days, and he would just goof around with his team, play board games, drink some hard, expensive liquor from the mini bar, or watch TV—a mini vacation.

I remembered walking out of their massive balcony overlooking the rest of the city, feeling like the king of the world as the wind flipped my hair back, the river murky brown after the rain. The military was mobilizing from across the waters, lining up every street with tanks, Humvees, barriers, dugouts, watchtowers, soldiers, everything. Planes flew above the sky: fighter jets, helicopters, Black hawks, CH-47s, news crews, and many more. On a rooftop not far from us, a bunch of reporters had been dropped off by a helicopter, and each crew started assembling their gear and prepared for the campaign.

President Marshall had promised the twenty thousand troops for each front, and there were many more sent to cities adjacent to the Susquehanna River.

The city of Harrisburg was one of the large cities lining the river, and if the military retook it from the vectors and the Alpha's iron grip, they would be able to hold countless operations within the Red Zone. It was one of the most important strategic points in the war, and I realized now why President Marshall was adamant at putting all his efforts in Harrisburg (and the other city being in Baltimore since its the last line of defense against a massive horde heading toward Washington DC, the capital).

More troops marched on the Capital Beltway, seemingly spilling out of the edges, and I was afraid the bridge wouldn't be able to take their combined weight. They continued to march into the city. Soldiers rappelled from the transport copters down to rooftops, parks, and Andy open grounds they could find. Luckily, none had chosen to land on the penthouse. One had even touched down in front of the State Capitol building, where most of the troops had made the place the HQ for the campaign. Murray told all of us to avoid that area.

And then I turned toward the war zone, a hellish landscape even from above as much as it was on the ground. If I squinted hard enough, I could tell the church where we buried Lauren, Holly, and Haskell under the cherry blossom tree. Around there, gunfire erupted every second, the Alphas putting up a fight against the military, who continued to give reinforcement and bolster their offensive strategy. So far, no horde had shown up yet, and if they did, they were still too far from downtown.

"Are you worried to be labeled a deserter? Gone AWOL?" I asked Murray, doubting a little whether he truly was going to abandon his brothers-in-arms. Even poor Isaacs went along with it, too scared to move or even look down onto the street where we spotted a few vectors running around, either put down by other survivors or by a passing patrol.

"I'm not stupid," Murray said. "I can see the writing on the wall. President Marshall is throwing everything at our enemy and seeing what sticks. A plan like that can only go two ways: We win, or we lose, and I had the good fortune of having enough experience around guys like that on top, the ones who are too lazy yet driven by ego to see they are way over their ass. Most of them fail, and it cost almost everything."

"I'd like to think we'd make it. I'd take a small victory, or anything, really."

"Then, that's the day we'd lose. Small victories are nothing if we take two steps back in return. We won't gain anything at all. That's why I'm going home. That's why I'm going back to my family, even when I know I only have a brief time with them left." Murray let out a smile. "But yeah. I sure do hope we fucking win. This is the rare case where I'd like to be proven wrong." He walked back inside the apartment.

But he ended up being right.

Reclamation Day took the lives of two million people.

Through twenty days of constant fighting, a total of fifteen million people lost their lives across the Delaware Line, including the two million that died at the beginning of the campaign.

That's just the official numbers; the ones put into the history books and government records, taught in schools (or what was left of them), and during Memorial Day. The numbers could be much higher, especially the ones where bodies had not been recovered, the ones that still roamed what was left of America as one of them. Or perhaps nothing was left to collect, torn down to the bones and sinew of the deceased, a morbid thought, I know, but something that was very much plausible.

My guess? Around forty million (at most) lost their lives throughout the campaign, including the civilians. And that's just based on what I had witnessed first-hand. After all, the northeast had a population of almost sixty million people. During those brief days where it became an evacuation to the eventual Red Zone, not many people made it out for better walls out west.

I wondered if Clemons was involved, leading his own company. After all, he was a general now, promoted after the events from Albany. But I didn't want to imagine that he's in harm's way. He was my only hope to get to Portland faster than Cora, faster than anything. With the US in lockdown and all commercial flights grounded, I had no choice but to take advantage of my military connections.

Two black hawks flew over the building. I wondered if they saw me standing here, looking up at them when suddenly, a muffled explosion from afar before a trail of smoke shot out toward the second helicopter. It came from a bazooka. The rocket clipped the helicopter by the tail end, shearing it in half, sending the main cabin whirling out of control.

"Holy shit!" Edgar exclaimed next to me. Paloma and Marie had both their hands on their mouth while Nico and Monica looked away.

I saw four soldiers fell to their deaths before the helicopter slammed on the side of the building across from us and engulfed three levels on fire. I had no idea where the bazooka came from, especially who fired it, so I asked everyone to stay inside from now on.

I heaved a sigh and went back inside the penthouse.

Deon and Noodle both stood on opposite sides of the penthouse, ensuring they never found themselves at least twenty feet from each other. I thought it was ridiculous seeing them like this after what they had done, and I had the sneaking suspicion that it was Deon who put Noodle up to this. It was already telling when he swore he wasn't gay. If he wasn't, he could be anywhere in the spectrum ready to bend a guy over the sink. He didn't have to be a full carrier for homo express; First Class. Everyone has standards. Then again, this little drama was not going to be fun. I made a mental note to talk to both of them about it before hot heads prevailed and punches were thrown. For now, I'm glad that they started by avoiding themselves.

"It's getting dangerous out there," Murray said to the others. "I don't think there's much of the city left after this if I'm honest."

"Yeah. Have you see the soldiers out there?" Nico let out a whistle. "I didn't know that many people can walk over a bridge. Just saying."

"It's scary," Marie said, shivering, and she sat on a bean bag.

"Can we not talk about this, please?" Aubrey asked. Beside her, Wanda and Diana were busy playing with Indy. "Just for once, I wanted something normal, something not...what's out there for the girls. Please?"

"There's a little playroom at the end of the hall on the second floor," said Isaacs.

Aubrey glowered at him. "You want me and my babies to go down the building without protection?"

"No, I meant on the penthouse. The second floor of the penthouse. There's a playroom there. I think the owners have a kid your age..." Isaacs blushed, realizing he was talking about something from 'out there.'

"Thanks," Aubrey said and took Wanda and Diana out of the living room and up the glass stairs.

Indy made a little whimper and looked at me, then back at the girls up the stairs. It was clear he wanted to follow.

I cocked my head to the side. "Go."

Indy didn't take time to bolt out for the stairs and follow the kids, and I chucked to myself.

"I'm gonna go check on her and see if she's alright," Charlene said to Bernadette, leaving the old lady on the couch and followed after her sister.

I walked over to the room where Aria, Logan, Gus, and Alfie were, staying beside Yousef. Riki jumped on Yousef's laugh, and the boy flinched from the weight, almost scared until Gus reminded him that Riki's very friendly.

Yousef narrowed his gaze at him. "Dude, I heard this ferret clawed a guy's face, and you say he's very friendly?" Yousef asked.

Gus scratched his head. "Hm. Riki might be a genius in the ferret world. He can tell the bad guys from the good guys. Trust me. I've lived with this guy for two whole years. He's an extreme extrovert."

"Oh, boy. An extrovert. We certainly don't have a shortage of that," Yousef sighed as Aria and Logan laugh.

They turned to me as I approached the bed. "How are you doing?" I asked Yousef.

"Better now. That aspirin sure kicked in quick," Yousef answered. "I feel like someone ran over me ten times."

"And yet you live. You must be Superman," Logan said, chuckling.

"I like your confidence in me, Logan. I need that," Yousef said, and he raised his hand to give Logan a high five. He didn't make it. Wincing from the pain, Yousef reeled his hand close to his chest.

"Stop that now. Get as much rest as you need," Aria said, forcing a smile, and then scowled Logan. Logan merely took a step back, mouthing that he's sorry. "Please, rest, Sef. You've done enough."

"I swear if I could just...ow. I would beat that dude up."

"He's dead, Sef," I said.

"Oh. Good. Aria told me about that. Almost forgot. Is Haskell really...?"

I nodded.

"Damn. I didn't even get to say goodbye. Fuck, my bedside manners are worth for shit."

"I don't think Haskell would want us to hound him and shower him with pity. He ain't like that," Alfie said, and Yousef gave him a thumbs up.

Aria got up and turned to me. "Frankly, I'm more concerned about Peter. He hadn't spoken up since he died."

"I know." I looked around, but I didn't see Peter anywhere. He wasn't on the balcony either.

"That guy has been battling a lot of feelings inside. If he's going to let that kettle off, I'm concerned who he's gonna burn."

"Thanks, Aria. I'll go find him."

I thought of checking the bathroom first. It had more privacy than the other rooms, but Logan stopped me before I could walk out into the hallway.

"I want to talk to you about something?" He asked.

"What about?"

"Murray's plan."

Oh. We had been over this countless times and repeated it five times over just so that everyone was on the same page. "The plan stands," I said.

"But for him to drive Cora across the bridge? What will stop him from just moving on without us?"

It was a valid concern, and I certainly had given only a sliver of trust on Murray, but we were left with no choice. It was a big ask, one that I wouldn't dare touch nor even suggest firsthand, but the bridges were heavily guarded by the military with routine inspections of every vehicle that passed through the barricades. There was no chance in hell I could hide twenty-three other people in an already cramped space.

My only solution was to dress Jun up into Isaacs's military uniform and pass through the barricade with Murray. Jun was a formidable fighter, one that I hadn't experience hand-to-hand (yet), but I trust him enough to do the job. If Murray suggests or even thinks of stealing Cora, Jun would slit his throat without hesitation.

By the time most of the soldiers were inside Harrisburg, the rest of us would move through the sewers beneath the city. With half of the buildings connected to the network across downtown occupied as outposts by the military or as shelters for other survivors, the hospital's basement was the only one with an entrance into the tunnels with no military presence, and that was close enough to where we needed to go: The Sewage Pumping Station. Our exit.

The station lay just underneath the beltway.

"Isaacs will lead us to the bridge. Don't worry," I said. "Murray said there's an entryway leading up to the catwalks beneath the bridge. When we get there, we cross them, and in no time wee will meet up with Jun and Murray on our designated point once we're on the other side of the river. Got it?"

"But I'm not sure about the sewers. And the hospital? Are you sure it's gonna be safe? What if there are infected in there?"

"It's certainly a risk, but Murray and Isaacs both said that the Harrisburg police and the National Guard were able to contain the outbreak, and by contained, I meant to put down the patients. Well, that's before a few vectors already managed to spill out into the streets. Besides, it sounds like they've gone through it before."

"I'm just nervous. Sorry."

I patted Logan's shoulder. "Don't be a scaredy-cat. We'll get through it in one piece."

Logan sighed. "Oh, by the way, Peter's in the master's suite bathroom. I saw him go in there, and I don't think he hasn't come out yet."

I flinched, taken aback why he said it. "Oh. Um, thanks."

"I know you need to talk to him. I think he needs it."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "Are you...concerned about his well-being? Is this the Logan I hear? Has he matured?"

Logan scoffed. "He's part of the group. If he interrupts our escape plan because he's emo, then that's on him and us. I want him to be one hundred percent in his A-game, so others don't get killed. That's all."

"Uh-huh. Lots of words for just a simple yes."

"Whatever."

I chuckled. "Well, I'll make sure to tell him you're worried."

"Please, don't."

"And that you'd like him to be okay."

"Oh, God. I'm gonna fucking regret this, am I?"

"Not unless Peter takes it the wrong way."

"That dude takes everything the wrong way."

"I'll honey the words and make it sweeter to his ears." I gently touched Logan's arm.

"Bren, you're all the honey I need." It must have shown on my cringing face because Logan's eyes widened once the words escaped his lips. "I am so sorry you had to hear that. I didn't know what got into me."

"Super cringe." I laughed. Looking back into the room, Aria, Yousef, and Gus were too busy in their conversation. I pulled Logan into the hallway, raised my head, and gave him a chaste kiss. "But it's kind of charming."

Logan leaned down and kissed me again, deeper this time, enough for my lips to part, for my lungs to ache for a breath. Then, Logan pulled out the kiss and pressed his forehead against mine.

"You do know Peter might want something from you," Logan said.

"Like what?"

"Don't play coy. You know what he wants. He might ask you to have sex with him."

"And that troubles you?" I asked.

"A little," Logan admitted. "I mean, don't get me wrong. It's a little bit daunting and, yes, bothered that he got to have you before me, you know?"

"Jealous?"

"Hey, I'm admitting to it."

"Yeah, I know, I know."

"But it happens. You two have history. I gotta respect that."

"Wait. Do you want to have sex?"

Logan's cheeks turned red, and he took a step back from me. "I...that's...certainly one of the goals...right? But like down the road? Isn't that how it's usually done, or is it different for you?"

"Yeah. I mean, we're both guys. If you want to have sex, Logan, all you have to do is ask. We'll find a room."

"For real?"

"Yeah. For real."

Logan narrowed his brows as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That easy?"

"If you say it is. You don't have to go the extra mile for me. And I'm gay. We don't have time for beating around the bush when we both want the goods."

"You really want to have sex with me? Like, I'm not forcing this or pressuring this on you?"

"Seriously? You want clarification for that?"

"I'm just trying to make sense of what I just heard."

"Well, let me put it this way. I know I'm sexually attracted to you if that's what you're asking me. But now that I said that out loud in a very formal term, that kinda went down..."

"Oh, no. No down. Only up. Yes. Let's have sex. No more questions."

"Okay. Good. Glad we're on the same page."

"But like...when? When you're in the mood?"

"Let me ask you this. When have you not been in the mood?"

Logan sighed. "Alright. Got it."

"Good. I'm gonna go find Peter."

Logan grabbed my wrist and stopped me. "But what if he asked?"

I looked at him. "Do you want me to say no?"

"Yes...I...no. Maybe? Ah. No. We don't even know what we are yet."

"Then what are we?"

"Well, It's pretty clear we're close to being fuck buddies, right?"

"I can see that."

"Then you and Pete are..."

"The same thing."

"Okay. That clears it up then."

"And that is?"

"We have boundaries now, so that's good? Boundaries are good."

"...I guess?"

Logan nodded. "Boundaries are good."

"You're a dolt," I said, laughing, and then I pressed my lips against his. "I'm not going to have sex with him when he's emotionally vulnerable. He needed a friend, not a session."

I slapped Logan's butt as I walked away, and I realized now why a lot of guys slapped other men's butts in the locker room. It was kind of fun and exhilarating—male bonding, if you call it that.