Outside, the grinding scrape of the loading door echoed briefly through the narrow service lane before fading back into silence.
Sergeant Hale listened to the last metallic rattle disappear into the building.
Then he turned back toward the perimeter.
"Alright," he said quietly but firmly. "Everyone tighten it up. That door was loud enough to alert any walker nearby. Get ready."
The Rangers shifted slightly at their positions.
Their weapons remained trained toward the entrance of the service lane.
Private Cole, standing near the corner beside an overturned pallet jack, adjusted his grip on his SMG and glanced down the alley.
"You think it carried that far, Sarge?"
Hale didn't take his eyes off the lane.
"In a quiet city like this?" he replied. "Yeah. Probably did."
Corporal Rayes stood a few feet away beside the delivery truck, scanning the the surrounding wall's.
"Nothing yet," he murmured.
Private Wyatt, positioned beside a stack of supply crates, shifted his stance slightly.
"Yet being the important word."
Near the center of the loading bay, Novak knelt beside the civilians, her armored knee resting against the pavement while she watched both the alley entrance and the building behind them.
Her riot helmet rested low on her head, visor lifted just enough to speak clearly.
"Try not to look so nervous," she said quietly.
Patel gave a strained smile.
"Easy for you to say."
Quinn glanced toward the partially raised loading door behind the Rangers.
"So... how long do they usually take clearing a place like this?"
Novak shrugged slightly.
"Depends."
"On what?" Quinn asked.
"How many things trying to eat them are inside."
That didn't seem to help Quinn's nerves.
Iris stayed close beside Nia, still holding the gas mask Andrew had given her earlier. Nervously she spoke.
"Will they be okay?"
Novak looked down at her briefly before nodding.
"They've handled worse."
A quiet metallic clink came from near the service lane entrance.
Everyone instantly stiffened.
Private Turner, who had been watching the far corner of the alley, raised a hand slightly.
"Thought I heard something."
Hale stepped forward beside him, lifting his rifle.
Specialist Keller shifted position near the back of the delivery truck, covering the opposite side of the lane.
The Rangers' formation tightened without a word.
Riot armor creaked softly as they adjusted their stances, weapons steady.
For several long seconds nothing happened.
Just the distant wind and the faint echo of groaning walkers somewhere far down the streets.
Private Cole exhaled slowly.
"False alarm?"
Hale didn't lower his weapon.
"Maybe."
His eyes stayed locked on the far end of the lane.
"Or maybe they're just taking their time getting here."
Behind them, the civilians remained crouched behind the crates while the Rangers held the perimeter around the loading bay, waiting to see if the noise had drawn any unwanted attention.
···
Andrew stepped toward the dark trail of dried blood, his flashlight following it as it stretched across the concrete and led straight to the double doors leading deeper into the building.
Price moved alongside him, while Ghost and Gaz spread slightly to cover the wider angles of the loading bay. Soap lingered a step behind, his attention drifting briefly toward the partially raised loading door.
Andrew had just reached the start of the trail when he stopped.
A faint sound reached them.
It was distant and muted, but clear enough once you knew what to listen for.
A suppressed shot.
Then another.
Short, controlled bursts followed, barely louder than a cough but unmistakable in the silence of the building.
All five men shifted their focus toward the loading bay entrance.
"Outside," Price said quietly.
Ghost was already moving, and the others followed without hesitation. Within seconds they were back near the partially open door, weapons raised as they took positions around the entrance.
Andrew dropped into a crouch and angled himself low enough to see beneath the gap.
At first, his view was limited to boots and shifting movement—Rangers holding their positions. But beyond them, shambling forms were advancing into the service lane.
The first walkers stumbled into view, slow and uncoordinated, with more following behind them.
The Rangers were already engaged with the wave of walkers.
Short, controlled bursts of suppressed fire cracked through the air as they picked targets one by one. Most shots were clean—precise rounds through the forehead or eye socket that dropped the walkers where they stood—but a few missed, rounds snapping past skulls or glancing off bone as the targets lurched unpredictably.
They adjusted quickly.
Cole shifted his aim and fired again, correcting the miss with a clean headshot. Nearby, Wyatt dropped another with a single round, the body collapsing forward onto the concrete.
More walkers filtered into the lane.
But the rangers held their ground.
Then one walker pushed closer—a former police officer, its riot helmet still strapped in place. A round struck the front of the helmet and deflected, the impact jerking its head to the side but failing to stop it.
"We've got armored ones!" someone warned.
Before it could close the distance, Novak stepped forward, grabbing the walker by the shoulder to steady it. She drove her weapon up under the edge of the helmet and fired point-blank into the side of its skull. The body went limp instantly.
A few steps away, another walker got too close to Turner. He didn't fire. Instead, he stepped in, drew his combat knife, and drove it hard through the temple, ripping it free as the corpse dropped at his feet.
The Rangers shifted, tightening their formation as more walkers entered the service lane. Suppressed shots continued in steady rhythm.
The walkers kept pushing into the lane, drawn by the earlier noise, while others were dragging themselves upright from the ground where they had previously lain still. Further back, more walkers were beginning to gather, slowly filtering in from the direction of the main street.
Andrew pulled back slightly.
"We got contact. Large wave of walkers," he said while facing the others.
Another series of suppressed shots sounded outside, controlled and disciplined, but it was clear the situation was changing.
Price stepped beside him and took a quick look for himself. His expression tightened as he watched the movement beyond the Rangers.
"They're starting to stack up."
Soap let out a quiet breath.
"So much for quiet."
The low, uneven chorus of guttural groans began to carry into the loading bay now, growing more distinct as the walkers pushed closer to the entrance.
Gaz adjusted his stance, keeping his weapon trained toward the opening.
"If they push into the lane, the civilians are exposed."
Andrew didn't hesitate. He straightened and looked back into the darkness of the loading bay, then back outside.
"We get everyone inside," he said.
Price nodded immediately in agreement.
Ghost had already moved to the chain mechanism beside the door.
Andrew raised his voice just enough to carry outside.
"Hale!"
The response came instantly.
"Sir!"
"Fall back. Inside the bay. Now."
There was no hesitation in the reply, and through the narrow gap Andrew could see the Rangers begin to shift. Their formation tightened around the civilians as they started pulling back toward the loading entrance, moving with controlled urgency.
A walker stumbled into view near the opening, its silhouette briefly filling part of the gap.
Ghost reacted without thinking, driving his boot forward and knocking it back before it could push its way inside.
"Move!" Price ordered.
The first of the Rangers reached the door and ducked under quickly, guiding the civilians through one at a time. Even as they moved, their weapons remained trained outward, covering the lane.
More walkers were visible now beyond them, crowding the far end of the service lane and pressing closer with each passing second.
Cole and Wyatt were the last to fall back, firing short suppressed bursts as they retreated.
The moment they crossed inside, Ghost grabbed the chain.
"Now."
He pulled hard, and this time the loading door came down fast. The metal slammed against the concrete with a heavy impact that echoed through the bay.
For a brief moment, everything went still.
Then a dull thud struck the outside of the door.
Another followed.
Low, muffled groans pressed through the metal as the walkers gathered at the entrance, drawn to where their prey had just disappeared.
Inside, the group held their positions in silence, weapons raised and breathing steady.
Slowly, the tension began to ease.
Weapons lowered. Shoulders relaxed, though no one let their guard down.
Private Cole exhaled quietly.
"That got busy fast."
Wyatt let out a short breath beside him.
"Yeah… and we were just starting to get comfortable."
A few of the Rangers gave faint, tired smirks at that.
Near the crates, Novak adjusted her grip on her weapon, glancing toward the door as another muted thud echoed through the metal.
"They'll keep at it for a while," she said. "But they're not getting through that."
Corporal Rayes shifted his stance near a shelf, eyes still scanning the interior of the bay.
"Let's hope not."
Patel rubbed a hand over his face, trying to steady himself.
"Does it ever get easier?" he asked quietly.
There was a brief pause.
Quinn let out a dry breath.
"If it does, let's hope it will be soon."
That earned a small nod from Leonard.
Sergeant Hale stepped forward, his presence pulling the focus back together.
"Alright," he said calmly. "Stay sharp. This isn't over."
Andrew moved into the center of the group, Price just behind him, with Ghost, Soap, and Gaz fanning out slightly as they rejoined the others.
Andrew glanced once toward the loading door, listening to the dull impacts and muffled groans on the other side.
Then he looked back at the Rangers.
"We don't have time to sit on this," he said. "We need to keep moving."
The small moment of calm faded as attention shifted back to the mission.
Andrew continued, his tone steady and controlled.
"We're splitting."
That got everyone's full attention.
"Five of you stay here," he said, gesturing around the loading bay. "Hold this position, keep the civilians and the operators secure, and make sure that door stays shut."
Hale nodded immediately.
"We'll hold it."
Andrew gave a short nod, then pointed toward the interior of the building.
"The rest are with me."
His gaze moved across the Rangers as he chose quickly.
"Cole. Wyatt. Rayes. Novak."
The four straightened slightly.
"You're with us."
They acknowledged without hesitation.
Andrew glanced toward Price.
"We push inside, find a route up to the rooftop."
Price gave a small nod of agreement.
"Stairwell, maintenance ladder.....whatever gets us there."
Soap adjusted the strap on his weapon.
"Let's just hope it's not ten floors of bad news."
Gaz gave a faint smirk.
"When is it ever not?"
Ghost said nothing, already turning his attention toward the double doors deeper inside the building.
Andrew looked back to Hale one last time.
"If anything changes out here, you radio in. No risks."
Hale met his eyes.
"Understood."
Andrew gave a final nod.
"Alright."
He turned toward the blood trail leading deeper into the building.
"Let's move."
The group moved deeper into the building, following the dark trail of dried blood as it stretched across the floor toward a set of double doors ahead.
Andrew slowed and raised a hand.
The formation tightened instantly.
As they approached, the trail became more erratic. What had started as a steady line of drops turned into smeared streaks, as if whoever had been bleeding had begun to stumble.
Novak glanced down at it, her voice low.
"Well… at least they left us directions."
A brief pause, then she added, half under her breath—
"Not sure I like where they lead, though."
Soap gave a faint huff behind the mask.
"Could be worse. Could've stopped halfway."
Andrew didn't respond. His focus stayed on the doors.
One of them was slightly ajar.
He gestured.
Stack.
The team shifted into position along the frame, weapons lowering as several switched grips—rifles slung just enough to free their hands, knives and hatchets coming forward for close quarters.
Andrew pushed the door open slowly.
It gave with a faint creak.
They moved through in a tight formation, flashlights lighting the way.
The change in environment was immediate.
The beams of light revealed that this part of the building had clearly been an active workspace before everything fell apart. Papers littered the floor—printed scripts, rundown sheets, stapled notes with handwritten edits scrawled across them. Some still bore station headers and timestamps, others were smeared with dried blood or stuck to the floor under darkened stains.
An overturned rolling office chair lay near the wall, one wheel still slowly turning from where it had been disturbed.
Old desktop monitors, early flat screens sat dark on nearby desks, some cracked, others knocked over entirely. Tangled cables and unplugged broadcast equipment were scattered across the floor, along with headsets and handheld cameras left behind in a hurry.
Halfway down the corridor, a wide smear of blood marked the wall.
As if someone had leaned heavily against it, leaving a thick streak at shoulder height before slipping lower.
The trail continued.
And ended at a body.
Face down. Unmoving.
Andrew paused.
Ghost stepped forward without being told. He crouched beside the corpse, studying it for only a second before driving his knife into the base of the skull with a clean, practiced motion.
The blade sank in, then he pulled it free in a single motion.
"Clear."
They moved on.
Further in, the signs of resistance became harder to ignore.
Several black body bags had been lined up along one side of the corridor, some neatly zipped, others partially open as if whoever had placed them there had run out of time. Dark stains had soaked through the fabric beneath them.
Nearby, empty casings were scattered across the floor in small clusters, glinting under the flashlight beams. Bullet holes marked the walls and ceiling.
A faint sound echoed ahead.
A walker. Then another.
Two of them staggered into view from a side office, drawn by the movement of the lights.
Before they could fully react, Price and Ghost stepped forward.
Their blades glinted in the light of the flashlights as they moved to dispatch the two walkers with two swift strikes to the head.
Both walkers dropped instantly.
The group continued, stepping carefully over debris and bodies, their formation holding tight.
They passed another open doorway.
Gaz's flashlight swept across it briefly, catching a glimpse of overturned desks, a fallen camera tripod, and a wall-mounted television cracked down the center.
Nothing moved.
He turned away.
Behind him, the rear shifted forward.
Rayes stepped past the doorway.
Then Wyatt.
Then Novak—
And then a walker inside moved, taking everyone by surprise.
It lunged out suddenly, faster than expected.
The impact drove Wyatt back half a step as the walker's jaws snapped down toward his shoulder.
Teeth met armor.
A harsh scraping sound cut through the corridor as it continued to bite uselessly against the reinforced plating of his riot gear.
"Need some help over here!" Wyatt barked.
He shoved back, but the walker clung to him, its grip surprisingly strong.
Novak reacted instantly.
She stepped in from the side and drove her knife up beneath the jawline, angling into the skull. The blade punched through, and the walker went limp almost immediately.
Wyatt shoved the body off, breathing heavier now as he checked his shoulder.
The armor held.
He exhaled sharply.
"That… was too close."
Novak pulled her blade free and gave a small nod.
"That's why we wear the heavy stuff."
Andrew turned slightly, his eyes sweeping the doorway the walker had come from before moving back to the group.
"Tighten it up," he said quietly. "Check every room properly."
No one argued.
The formation compressed further, movements slower now, more deliberate.
And together, they continued deeper into the darkened newsroom corridors, following the path of blood toward whatever waited further inside.