At dusk, after a full day of surveying, Elena and her four students returned to Rock Fortress carrying fresh data, excited about their progress.
They were just about to find Calista and report their results when they heard that Hank from the search team had been shot.
Their mood sank immediately.
It meant not only that their water diversion project would be suspended indefinitely, but also that a powerful and ruthless force had appeared somewhere near the base.
The relaxed days they had spent at Rock Fortress had almost made them forget that this was still a brutal post-apocalyptic world where the strong preyed on the weak.
...
Inside the command room of the main building.
Calista sat at the head of the table, her fingers unconsciously tapping the tabletop with a dull rhythm.
To her left sat Leah and Rickson. Both had their arms crossed, their expressions grim, their eyes sharp and alert.
Next to them were Mike and Carver, currently the two mercenaries with the strongest individual combat ability.
On Calista's right sat Dr. Jenner, still pale, and the exhausted Dr. Evans. A notebook lay open before them, along with the deformed bullet that had been carefully placed on the table.
Across from them sat the surviving members of the mission: Maya, Leon with his arm bandaged and his face pale from blood loss, and Jonathan and Thompson, both with scrapes and bruises on their faces.
Hank remained unconscious in the infirmary and could not attend.
The tension inside the command room was almost suffocating.
"All right," Calista said, breaking the silence.
"Everyone's here. I want you to go through everything again—every detail you can remember."
"Even the smallest thing. We need to figure out exactly who we're dealing with."
She looked at Maya.
"Maya. Start from the beginning. You were the first one to make contact."
Maya licked her dry lips, trying to recall the moment.
"We had just entered the abandoned warehouse district inside the industrial park. We were trying to cut through as a shortcut. Then we heard the sound of a rifle bolt being pulled from somewhere above us. It was faint, but Leon caught it."
She glanced at Leon.
Leon nodded and gestured with his uninjured hand.
"Yeah. It sounded deliberate. Like they wanted us to hear it. Maybe a warning."
"The next second, bullets started raining down."
"How was their firepower?" Leah asked coldly.
She went straight for the core question.
"Strong. Very strong," Jonathan said immediately, his voice tense.
"They weren't spraying bullets randomly. Controlled bursts. Precise fire."
"They kept us pinned so hard we couldn't even lift our heads."
"Sounded like M4s or SCARs," he continued. "But the shots were muffled. Probably all equipped with high-end suppressors."
"Even the sound of the rounds passing by felt different," Thompson added.
"Very stable. Not like old rifles or hand-loaded ammo that flies all over the place."
Dr. Evans picked up the bullet.
"That matches the description."
"The machining on this bullet is extremely precise. The marking was hammered on by hand, but the projectile itself is excellent quality."
"This is not crude ammunition."
Leah and Rickson exchanged a glance.
Rickson spoke first.
"With gear this uniform, and with that kind of deliberate provocation, they're not some random survivor group."
"It feels more like a highly confident organization with stable logistics."
"Deserters might have good equipment, but they rarely maintain this kind of uniformity."
"Or… this kind of theatrical style."
"Did anyone see their faces?" Calista asked.
"Or any identifying marks?"
Everyone tried to recall.
Then they all shook their heads.
"It happened too fast."
"They were staying in shadows."
"Maybe using smoke too."
"Their faces were covered."
"Couldn't see anything clearly."
"All I remember are those damn red scarves everywhere," Leon said irritably, slamming his fist on the table.
The movement pulled his wound and he hissed in pain.
"Red scarves?" Rickson frowned.
"Yeah."
"Every one of them had a red scarf tied around their neck," Leon confirmed.
Calista: ??? Red scarves???
"What about communication?" Leah asked.
"How were they coordinating?"
"Did they shout anything?"
"No," Maya said firmly.
"Almost nothing."
"Just a few short whistles."
"Different tones. Like signals."
"Sounds like a unit that's trained together for a long time," Rickson concluded.
He glanced at Calista.
The discussion hit a dead end.
National Guard deserters?
Possible. But deserters usually try to stay hidden. They don't wear matching identifiers or deliberately provoke enemies like that.
Local gangs?
What kind of gang could survive the apocalypse while maintaining such discipline, equipment, and training?
That would require extremely strong leadership and resources.
The command room fell silent again.
An unknown enemy was the most frightening kind.
You didn't know who they were.
What they wanted.
How many of them there were.
Or where they were based.
Calista took a deep breath.
Continuing to question them wouldn't bring any breakthrough.
Rock Fortress had to take the initiative.
"Listen," she said, standing up and placing both hands on the table.
Her eyes swept across everyone present.
"I don't care if they're deserters, gangsters, or some lunatics crawling out of a hole."
"They attacked our people."
"That debt will be paid."
She turned toward Leah.
"Leah. Tomorrow you'll lead a recon team personally."
"Pick the most reliable people. Elite only."
"No Humvee. Too obvious."
"Take the Unimog—the quieter one."
"Bring extra fuel, drones, and comms equipment."
Leah nodded immediately.
"Understood. I'll take Mike, Carver, and Bossie."
"Good."
"You're the professional here," Calista said.
"I'm leaving it to you, Leah."
"Got it," Leah replied simply.
Calista looked toward the injured soldiers.
"The rest of you—get some rest."
"Recover your strength."
"Rock Fortress needs every fighter it has."
People left the command room one by one, their expressions serious.
Leah didn't waste a second. She immediately began preparing personnel and equipment.
...
The next afternoon.
The gates of Rock Fortress opened just enough for a vehicle to pass.
The elite reconnaissance squad departed.
Bossie carried his own recon gear and had borrowed Danny's team communication device.
Inside the cab, Leah wore noise-canceling headphones. Dark camouflage paint covered her face.
Bossie sat in the passenger seat.
Mike and Carver occupied the back.
All of them were fully camouflaged.
They even controlled their breathing.
The only sounds inside the vehicle were faint mechanical clicks when someone adjusted a rifle or observation device.
They didn't take the main road.
Soon the vehicle turned onto a narrow hunter's trail and disappeared beneath the dense forest canopy.
Inside Rock Fortress, Calista and Rickson stood silently with the others.
Their eyes followed the fading taillights of the off-road vehicle until it vanished completely into the mountains.
Everyone understood something.
This mission was not a simple patrol.
Not a scavenging run.
Leah's team was the first probe.
The first stone thrown into the darkness.
When the reconnaissance team returned…
Rock Fortress would finally learn who their enemy really was.