Two weeks later
Waking up slowly, Andrew pushed the blanket off himself and sat on the edge of the bed, letting his feet rest against the cold floor. For a few seconds, he stayed there without moving, head slightly lowered, as if giving his body time to catch up with the fact that the night was over.
He exhaled quietly and pushed himself up, moving toward the bathroom with steady, unhurried steps. The light flicked on with a soft click, casting a pale glow over the small space. Leaning over the sink, he turned the tap and let the cold water run for a moment before splashing it over his face.
The shock of it helped waking him up properly.
He stayed there for a second, hands resting against the edge of the sink, then reached for a towel and dried his face, the rough fabric dragging away the last traces of sleep.
Once done, Andrew stepped back into the room.
The uniform was already laid out where he had left it the night before. He changed without hesitation with the sleepwear set aside.
Last came the wristwatch.
He fastened it around his wrist and glanced down.
07:17.
Early, but not unusually so.
After a brief pause, he turned back toward the bed, straightening the sheets and pulling the blanket back into place. It didn't take long—just enough to leave the room in order, the same way he preferred everything else.
Once finished, Andrew grabbed what he needed and stepped out into the hallway.
The door closed quietly behind him as he moved forward, the day already beginning.
As Andrew moved down the hallway, the quiet of the early morning gradually gave way to a low, steady murmur of voices. A few turns later, the corridor opened into a wider space that had been repurposed into a makeshift lounge.
What had once likely been a common area was now furnished with a mix of salvaged comfort—sofas pulled together, a couple of armchairs, and coffee tables scattered between them.
Several soldiers occupied the space.
Different ranks, different units, all relaxed in the morning. A few sat on the couches, cups of coffee in hand, talking in low, easy tones. Others stood near several open windows, leaning against the frames as they smoked, letting the morning air carry the smoke out.
The atmosphere wasn't careless, but it was lighter.
A brief pocket of normal between operations.
Andrew walked through without slowing, his presence noted only in passing glances. A couple of nods were exchanged, quiet acknowledgments more than anything else.
Conversations dipped slightly as he passed, then resumed just as quickly.
Near one of the windows, a soldier flicked ash outside, exhaling slowly as he listened to someone else talk. Another laughed under his breath at something said, the sound low and restrained.
Andrew didn't linger.
He crossed the lounge and continued toward the stairwell at the far end, the noise of conversation fading behind him with each step.
Reaching the door, he pushed it open and stepped inside.
The stairwell was cooler, quieter, with just the echo of his own movement against concrete and metal being heard. He then began his descent toward the first floor, his pace steady as the sounds of the building shifted once again around him.
Andrew pushed through the stairwell door and stepped into the reception area, immediately greeted by a steady flow of movement. Soldiers crossed the space in small groups or alone, some heading toward their duties, others just coming off shift. Mixed among them were civilians, workers and family members with the children staying close to parents or trailing just behind them. The atmosphere carried a sense of order.
Andrew moved through it at a steady pace, his attention already set on the direction of the mess hall.
A couple of steps in, something caught his attention.
Two soldiers were coming from the opposite direction, walking side by side, their conversation a little louder than most around them. There was energy in the way they spoke—quick, animated, like they were trying not to talk over each other.
Andrew recognized them imidietly, Private Wyatt and Private Tucker.
As they drew closer, they noticed him almost at the same time. Their conversation cut off instantly, and both straightened, snapping into a salute.
"Lieutenant."
Andrew returned a brief nod, raising a hand slightly.
"At ease."
They relaxed just as quickly, though the edge of excitement hadn't left them.
Andrew glanced between the two, catching the look they shared.
"You two seem in a good mood," he said. "What's the occasion?"
Tucker didn't hide it. A cocky grin spread across his face as he shifted his weight slightly.
"Got a friend in one of the units that went through the city," he said. "They've been clearing out the leftover pockets."
Wyatt gave a small nod beside him, clearly just as interested.
"Told me they came across something," Tucker continued. "Something I might want to get my hands on."
Andrew raised an eyebrow slightly, the hint of a smile touching his expression.
"Let me guess," he said. "You're now heading to get your hands on this something."
Tucker shrugged, the grin not fading. "Welll... pretty much."
Andrew let out a quiet breath, shaking his head faintly.
"Try not to start a black market before breakfast," he replied, his tone light but dry. "We've got enough going on as it is."
Wyatt let out a small chuckle at that, while Tucker just gave a half-nod, still clearly pleased with himself.
Andrew's expression settled back to neutral as he gestured slightly past them.
"Alright, carry on."
"Sir."
The two moved on, picking their conversation back up in lower tones as they passed.
Andrew didn't look back.
He continued toward the mess hall, blending back into the steady flow of movement as the morning carried on around him.
Andrew stepped inside the mess hall, immediately met by the low hum of conversation and the clatter of utensils against trays.
The place was already busy—soldiers filling tables, some halfway through their meals, others just sitting with coffee in hand, taking advantage of a slower morning.
His gaze moved across the room almost instinctively.
It didn't take long to find them.
His squad occupied one of the tables off to the side, it wasn't isolated, but not in the middle of the noise either. They sat in a loose formation, plates in front of them, coffee cups within reach. The pace was unhurried. A conversation moved between them in pieces, broken by bites of food and the occasional pause to listen.
Andrew watched them for a second, just long enough to register the mood.
Calm and relaxed, as much as it could be.
Then he turned and headed toward the serving area.
A short line had already formed, moving at a steady pace. Andrew grabbed a tray and stepped in behind the last man, waiting his turn without impatience. Around him, bits of conversation drifted in and out—fragments of talk about assignments, rumors, small complaints, quiet jokes.
When his turn came, he moved along the line, taking what was available without much thought. Food went onto the tray, followed by a cup of coffee, still steaming. It was simple, but it did the job.
Tray in hand, Andrew stepped away from the line and turned back toward the tables.
His squad was still at the table.
He made his way over, weaving between chairs and passing people, then slowed as he reached the table.
Without much ceremony, he set the tray down and took a seat among them, the conversation continuing as he joined in, just another part of the group settling into the start of the day.
Andrew had barely taken a few bites before the conversation at the table naturally picked back up.
The food was simple but consistent, scrambled eggs made from powdered mix, strips of reheated bacon, toast that was a little too crisp on the edges, and a small portion of canned fruit. Nothing fancy, but enough to feel like a routine rather than survival. The coffee, though, was what most people focused on—strong, slightly bitter, and always in demand.
Private Cole was the first to speak, leaning back slightly in his chair as he glanced between the others.
"So what now?" he asked. "City's mostly cleared, hydro plant's secured and running… what's the next assignment?"
A couple of heads turned toward Andrew almost naturally, the question hanging there without pressure but with expectation.
Corporal Rayes kept eating for a moment before pausing, clearly listening more than reacting.
Sargeant Hale gave a small shrug, like he was thinking the same thing but waiting for confirmation.
Patel and Quinn exchanged a quick look, while Novak quietly sipped her coffee, watching Andrew without saying anything.
Andrew took a few more seconds before answering, cutting a piece of food on his tray and taking his time with it. Only after swallowing did he finally look up.
"Next move isn't ours yet," he said calmly. "I've got to talk with Major Griggs first. We'll set the direction from there."
That settled it for the table, at least for the moment.
There was no pushback, just understanding nods. Even if things were stabilizing, nothing moved without higher approval.
Rayes leaned slightly forward again. "So we're on standby?"
"More or less," Andrew replied. "For now, we hold and reset."
A quiet pause followed as they went back to their food and coffee, the conversation easing into smaller, less structured topics.
It didn't last long before Andrew spoke again, this time more casually.
"By the way," he said, glancing between them, "Tucker and Wyatt. Anyone know what got them so worked up earlier?"
A few of the Rangers exchanged looks.
Then Patel snorted quietly.
"Those two?" he said. "Probably something dumb."
A low chuckle went around the table.
Hale shook his head slightly. "Not dumb. Just… them."
Quinn leaned back in his chair, smirking a little. "Pretty sure they were calling each other nerds over it."
That got a few more laughs.
Andrew raised an eyebrow slightly. "Nerds?"
"Yeah," Patel confirmed. "Apparently they're excited about some books or something. Didn't sound like anything serious."
Andrew paused for a moment, clearly processing that, then looked mildly surprised.
"Books," he repeated.
Novak gave a small shrug from across the table. "That's what they said."
Patel added, almost as an afterthought, "Something called Warhammer."
A brief silence followed, then one of the Rangers just shrugged like it explained everything and went back to his coffee.
Andrew let out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head faintly as he went back to his meal.
"Of all things," he muttered under his breath, though there was a hint of amusement in it now.
After several minutes, the conversations at the table began to wind down.
Plates were gradually cleared of what remained, coffee cups emptied as the squad settled into that brief pause that came after eating but before returning to duty. The room around them kept moving—chairs scraping softly, low voices continuing at nearby tables.
Cole was the first to push his tray back slightly, leaning into his chair with a quiet exhale.
"Alright," he muttered, "that actually helped."
A couple of nods followed around the table.
Rayes wiped his hands with a napkin, glancing briefly toward the room before looking back to the others. "Don't get used to calm mornings," he said flatly, though without any real edge to it.
Hale gave a short, tired chuckle. "He says that like we've had any."
Patel stood first, picking up his tray. "We're on standby anyway, right? Probably just rotations and checks today."
Quinn followed suit, stretching slightly as he got up. "If nothing else blows up in the next hour."
Novak stood a moment later, finishing the last of her coffee before placing the cup down with a soft tap. She didn't add anything, but her expression suggested she agreed with the general expectation: waiting, not acting.
Andrew remained seated a little longer than the rest.
He didn't rush the last of his food. Took his time finishing what was left on his tray, and only when the others had already started to drift away from the table did he finally take a final sip of his coffee.
The squad had already begun to split into smaller paths—some heading toward gear checks, others toward briefings or rest.
Cole and Rayes were talking quietly near the end of the table as they stood. Hale had already stepped away, adjusting his sleeves as he walked. Patel and Quinn moved together toward the exit, still trading low remarks. Novak followed at a slower pace, glancing once back toward the table before continuing on.
Andrew finally stood, collecting his tray.
Without much ceremony, he carried it to the return station and set it down, the metal clink barely noticeable over the room's noise. He paused there only long enough to confirm his direction.
Then he turned away, walking back to the reception are, moving with steady purpose as he left the mess hall behind.
···
Andrew stepped out through the main entrance of the hotel, then he moved onto the path leading away from the building.
The morning air outside was cooler, carrying the quiet hum of a base already in motion.
He walked at a steady pace along the graveled path toward the command building, his attention shifting naturally as he moved.
To one side, his gaze lingered briefly on the armored vehicles they had recovered from the city. Three of IFVs sat parked in an organized formation, crews moving around them with routine efficiency. Some were being checked over, their hulls marked with dust and in some parts bloody handprints.
Further along, he glanced toward the fueling station setup—an improvised but structured refueling point where logistics teams worked in coordinated rhythm. Fuel trucks were positioned in sequence, hoses extended, while a few Humvees waited their turn, engines idling low as soldiers checked gauges and spoke briefly with the attendants.
Beyond that, his attention shifted again.
The vehicle shelter was nearing completion, built to handle repairs and storage, its frame already taking shape. Equipment and supplies were being moved into place, and personnel moved in and out with purpose.
It wasn't finished yet, but it was close.
Andrew continued forward, not slowing as he took in the layout of the base, his gaze then fell on the landing zone, where the helicopter's we're locked after by their operators. He then noticed one helicopter missing, but he kept moving, having an idea where it might be.
By the time he reached the command building, the two guards stationed at the entrance stepped aside without hesitation, giving a brief nod as he approached.
He returned it once and walked through the entrance, stepping inside as the doors closed behind him.
Andrew moved down the corridor at a steady pace, the rhythm of the base continuing around him. Personnel passed in both directions—some carrying folders or equipment, others in quiet conversation, a few stepping aside instinctively as he approached. There was a sense of urgency beneath it all, not rushed, but focused.
He didn't slow.
Reaching the command room, Andrew placed a hand on the door and pushed it open without hesitation.
Inside, Major Griggs stood near the central table, engaged in a low but firm discussion with two officers. Maps and reports were spread out before them, the conversation clearly mid-brief.
Andrew stepped in, the door closing softly behind him.
Griggs noticed him immediately.
He didn't interrupt at first, but after a brief moment, he gave a short nod to the two officers.
"That'll be all for now," he said.
The tone left no room for delay.
The officers acknowledged with quick nods of their own, gathering what they had before stepping past Andrew and out of the room.
Once they were gone, the room settled into a quieter atmosphere.
Griggs looked toward Andrew again, giving a small, acknowledging nod.
Andrew returned it, his gaze briefly shifting across the table, taking in the layout of maps and notes before speaking.
"I see Captain Price and his team already left."
"Indeed," Griggs replied without hesitation. "We need to move fast."
He stepped closer to the table, one hand resting near the edge as he continued.
"With most of the walkers in Fort Benning eliminated, we've got an opportunity. And with the amount of ammunition we used in the city…" he paused briefly, then added, "the supplies and equipment in the base will help us a lot."
Andrew gave a small nod in agreement.
It made sense.
Griggs glanced at him once more, his expression firm but focused.
"Which means we don't waste time."
He straightened slightly, gesturing toward the table between them.
"We should start discussing the matters of the day."