Hi everyone, sorry for posting late. I had a personal problem, but now i'm good .
I hope you enjoy the chapter.
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Night settled over Cranwell High School like a heavy blanket, but it brought no comfort. The halls, dimly lit by scattered lanterns, echoed with distant cracks of gunfire. Every shot—from the sentries or the perimeter patrols—sent a ripple of fear through the civilians huddled in classrooms and corners. Children startled awake. Adults whispered prayers or clung to one another, their nerves stretched thin by the constant reminder that danger lingered just outside the walls.
After coordinating with the National Guard, police, and Rangers, Andrew finished setting the sentry posts and night patrol schedule. He moved through the building several more times, checking on each sector, ensuring no disputes had broken out and no panic was spreading. Aside from the occasional frightened civilian and the constant strain of the gunfire outside, everything held together.
Satisfied—for now—Andrew finally allowed himself to step away. He found an empty office near the administrative wing, a place quiet enough that he could hear his own thoughts. He set his weapon within arm's reach, leaned back against the wall, and closed his eyes. Sleep wouldn't come easy—not with the fear in the hallways and the echo of shots in the night—but the next day would demand his full attention.
And he needed whatever rest he could get.
···
Startled awake, Andrew's hand shot instinctively toward his weapon. Heart pounding, he scanned the dim office until the remnants of sleep finally bled away and the room came into focus. With a steadying breath, he pushed himself up and walked to the nearby window. Outside, the world was still wrapped in the last veil of night. The only illumination came from the floodlights lining the perimeter, casting long, stark shadows across the school grounds. Two officers were on patrol, their silhouettes moving in a slow, steady rhythm. Far beyond them, faint rays of dawn were beginning to stretch across the horizon.
It was quiet—blessedly quiet. No gunshots. No shouts. No chaos. A fragile calm settled over the building, the first since the night before.
Keeping his MP5 slung but ready, he approached the door and eased it open, checking the hallway wanting to be sure that there is no danger. Down the corridor, two soldiers leaned against the lockers, quietly smoking and talking in hushed tones. Relaxing his posture Andrew stepped out into the hallway, when they noticed him, the two soldiers stiffened immediately, straightening their posture and fumbling to put out their cigarettes.
Andrew raised a hand, stopping them before they could finish. "At ease," he said, his voice low but firm.
They relaxed, and he stepped past them, continuing down the hallway as the faint glow of morning began to seep into the building.
Andrew moved through the dim hallway, the soft hum of early morning settling over the school. As he passed several classrooms, he glanced inside each one—families bundled together in sleeping bags, parents curled protectively around their children, others sitting upright against the walls, whispering reassurances or simply staring at nothing, too frightened to sleep. Further down, a few civilians were awake, quietly consoling one another, sharing blankets, offering what little comfort they could.
Rounding the next corner, he found a cluster of soldiers and police officers gathered around a small gas stove set up on a desk. The faint aroma of instant coffee drifted into the hallway as they ate in silence, their faces drawn, eyes heavy with the strain of the night. Nearby, others slept on military folding beds lined up against the wall, boots tucked neatly underneath, rifles within arm's reach. Despite the fatigue weighing on everyone, there was a sense of order.
Andrew continued down the corridor, his footsteps echoing on the tiles. He passed another row of classrooms—these ones dim, the doors propped open for ventilation. Inside, soldiers lay stretched out on the floors or on improvised bedding, their gear stacked neatly beside them. A few shifted in their sleep, muscles twitching from the lingering tension of the night, while others lay perfectly still, utterly spent. The air carried the faint smell of sweat, gunpowder, and too many people packed into one room for too long.
As he moved toward the exit, the hall widened and the cool draft from outside filtered in. The closer he got, the more the muffled sounds of distant radio chatter, boots on pavement and someone giving quiet instructions.
Andrew adjusted the strap of his MP5 and pushed open the door, stepping out into the pale early-morning light.
Stepping outside into the cool morning air, with the faint glow of sunrise spilling across the campus. The grounds of Cranwell looked nothing like a high school anymore, the athletic fields had been transformed into a patchwork of tents—olive-drab military shelters lined up in disciplined rows beside clusters of civilian tents hastily pitched wherever space allowed. Some were neatly arranged; others sagged at the corners.
Floodlights still hummed atop their stands, casting long, pale beams over the perimeter fencing erected along the edge of the fields. Reinforced with makeshift barricades—sandbags, benches, even welded-together goalposts. Sentries paced along the inside, silhouettes moving steadily, rifles slung or held low. Beyond them, the world was quiet, the early morning mist clinging to the grass.
Patrols crossed the grounds in pairs, some returning from their rounds, others heading out. A few civilians, unable to sleep, sat wrapped in blankets outside their tents, staring hollow-eyed at nothing.
Andrew scanned the area, then made his way toward three Rangers standing near a Humvee, passing a thermos back and forth. They straightened when they noticed him.
"Morning, sir," one said, snapping to a more formal posture.
Andrew nodded. "What's the situation?"
"Quiet," the first Ranger replied. "Sentries reported a few wanderers last night. They were dropped without any get inside. Besides that—no incidents."
Other added, "Patrols are rotating on schedule. No sign of any problems. Looks like the night held steady."
Andrew exhaled, the tension easing just a fraction. "Good. There are few things that still need to be done, then we'll be preparing for an evacuation. I need you three to secure the man that attempted to kill me , we'll be taking him with us."
"Yes, sir," they answered in unison.
He gave them a final nod before turning to continue across the waking camp.
Andrew was just turning toward the far fence line—intent on checking the perimeter himself—when the doors of the main school building opened. Sergeant Major Cross stepped out, his boots striking the concrete with deliberate weight. He spotted Andrew immediately.
"Lieutenant!" he called out, his voice carrying across the quiet morning.
Andrew stopped and turned as Cross approached, the older man's expression tight but steady—clearly running on as little sleep as everyone else. "Are there any problems?" Cross asked, eyes already sweeping the field, then coming back to Andrew. "And how do you want to proceed next?"
"Everything's in order, Sergeant Major," Andrew replied. "There were no breaches. Everyone did their job through the night."
Cross nodded once, glad that the night passed without problems. "Good to hear."
"Next," Andrew continued, "I want to address everyone in the compound. They need to understand the situation and what comes next, especially regarding relocation."
Cross considered that, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I can gather the civilians and personnel in the stadium. Shouldn't take long."
"Good," Andrew said. Then his expression hardened slightly. "We also need to find the other instigator—the second man who riled up the crowd. The one who tried to shoot me was one of the two."
Cross frowned, jaw tightening. "Understood. I'll see about finding the other one."
Andrew gave a firm nod. "Make sure he's brought in quietly. Last thing we need is another panic."
Cross returned the nod, already turning to carry out the orders. "I'll handle it."
Andrew watched him go, then looked at the JLTV parked near the breach in the fence which has been reinforced with sandbags.
Andrew cut across the field toward the JLTV which sat where it had been parked the night before, dusted with a faint layer of dew, the chill of the early morning still lingering in the air.Two Rangers stood beside it—one leaning against the front bumper, the other perched on the hood with a steaming cup of coffee. Both had their rifles clipped to their chests, slung low but ready. A thin trail of cigarette smoke drifted upward between them.
As soon as they noticed him approaching, both men straightened and snapped to attention.
"Sir."
Andrew gave a small nod. "At ease. Continue."
They relaxed again, one of them tapping ash off the end of his cigarette as Andrew stepped past them and opened the JLTV's side compartment. He reached in, pulling out the long-range radio. He powered it on. The familiar hum and static filled the morning air.
He keyed the mic. "Fort Ironwood, this is Lieutenant Andrew Mercer at Cranwell High School. Radio check. Over."
A moment later, the line cleared. "Copy, Lieutenant. Fort Ironwood receiving you. Stand by to transfer."
A brief pause—then another voice came through, deeper, more authoritative.
"Mercer, this is Major Griggs. Go ahead."
Andrew poke up . "Major, we've maintained the defenses through the night. There were no other breaches or any major issues. Situation stable on our end."
"Good," Griggs replied. "Exactly what we need to hear right now."
"Sir," Andrew continued, "requesting an update on the relocation plan."
There was the faint sound of papers shifting, muffled voices in the background. Then Griggs answered:
"Captain Price and a platoon rolled out not long ago. They're en route to secure the relocation site. Once we get confirmation that the area is safe, we'll push the green light to move the civilians and the personnel from the highschool."
Andrew exhaled slowly, relieved the gears were finally turning. "Understood, sir. We'll have everyone prepped and ready to move the moment we get word."
"Good. Keep the situation calm. Last thing we need is panic slowing everything down."
"Yes, sir. One more thing," Andrew said. "We're currently tracking down the second individual suspected of insurgent activity. The first is already wounded and secured. Once we have both, they'll be transported back to Ironwood for interrogation."
There was a short pause—then a low, approving chuckle from Griggs.
"Excellent. And don't worry, Lieutenant… we've got exactly the right person to handle that interrogation."
Andrew didn't respond to the implication—he simply acknowledged it with a steady, professional tone. "Copy that, sir."
"Keep me updated. Ironwood out."
The line clicked dead. Andrew turned off the radio, his expression firming as he turned toward the growing stir of activity across the camp.
Nearly an hour later, every civilian had been directed into the stadium stands. Families sat huddled together under blankets, children clinging to parents, older folks leaning heavily on the armrests. Dozens of anxious faces looked down at the field, murmuring quietly among themselves. Several police officers stood watch along the aisles and entrances, forming a perimeter of visible reassurance.
Andrew crossed the track toward the center of the field, flanked on either side by two Rangers. As they approached the gathered crowd, Sergeant Major Cross stepped out from behind one of the tunnels and intercepted him.
"Lieutenant," Cross said quietly, "we found the second individual. Took some asking around, but he's been detained."
Andrew nodded once, jaw tightening. "Good. Keep both of them under constant watch. No exceptions."
"Yes, sir."
Without another word, Andrew continued toward the open stretch of grass. When he reached the edge of the field, he turned to face the stands—hundreds of eyes now on him. The murmurs faded into tense silence.
He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and raised his voice so it carried across the stadium.
"My name is Lieutenant Andrew Mercer," he began. "United States Army Rangers."
A ripple of whispers passed through the crowd.
"First of all," Andrew continued, "I want everyone to understand that things aren't the same… and they won't go back to how they were before."
The stadium fell completely silent.
"This isn't a virus like the flu. It isn't something medicine can fix or time can heal. If someone gets infected—if they're bitten—death is guaranteed. And after death…" He hesitated only a moment, letting the weight settle. "They come back. But not as the person you knew. Not as a human being. They come back as a husk—a thing driven only by instinct, spreading this infection to everyone it can reach."
Fear rippled through the stands. Some held their children closer.
Andrew pressed on, steady and firm. "Now, I'm going to tell you something else. Many of you don't know how lucky you've been. You didn't have to fight your way through streets filled with the dead. You didn't have to sleep in ditches or barricade your homes with furniture. You were already inside a secure location—with trained police officers and National Guard soldiers protecting you."
He let that sink in.
"But last night," he continued, "we were reminded that nothing stays safe forever. The gunfire you heard. The dead were drawn here by the noise coming from the parking lot, there were enough of them that they breached part of the fence."
Gasps scattered through the crowd.
"Our forces contained it. We prevented a full breach. But it was close—too close. The situation out there is getting worse by the hour. And this school… it's not secure enough to withstand what's coming."
Andrew stepped forward slightly, voice strengthening.
"That's why, we will be relocating. A safer, fortified site is being prepared as we speak. Once we get confirmation that the location is secure, we'll move everyone."
He scanned the stands, meeting as many eyes as he could.
"I'm telling you this because you deserve honesty. We will protect you. We will get you to safety. But we need cooperation, calm, and trust. Panic will get people killed. Disorder will get people killed. We're past the point where we can afford that."
Andrew let out a slow breath.
"We survive this together. And together… we move forward."
The crowd sat in heavy, uneasy silence—fearful, but listening. When everything started they belived that it will be something temporary, that everything will be back to normal, but after what happened the previous night, they didn't believed that would be possible anymore.
Andrew didn't say anything else, letting everything sink in.