The once-bustling streets of East Knoxville were now populated by nothing but the walking dead.
By evening, Leah and her team reached the outskirts of the East Knoxville industrial park.
After hiding the Unimog behind a partially collapsed factory building, the four of them spread out into a staggered security formation and quietly moved deeper into the industrial zone.
"We're close to the ambush site Maya reported," Leah's voice came through the radio. "Stay sharp. Bossie, watch for traps."
"Copy."
They soon reached the location of the ambush—an intersection.
"This is it," Bossie said, crouching down and pointing at a clear set of tire skid marks and a pool of dried, blackened blood beside them. "This is where Hank's truck was forced to stop."
The scene was a mess.
Several walkers lay nearby with their heads blown apart, but more noticeable were the abandoned cars lining the roadside—windows shattered, bodies riddled with bullet holes, and brass shell casings scattered across the asphalt.
"Defensive positions," Leah ordered quietly.
Carver and Mike immediately took up overwatch positions, rifles aimed toward possible enemy approaches, while Leah and Bossie began examining the site.
Bossie picked up a casing from the ground.
"7.62×39 millimeter. Steel case. Not our ammo."
He grabbed another and examined the base closely.
"Also 5.56 millimeter, but clearly reloaded. Rough workmanship."
Bossie looked up at Leah.
"The attackers used mixed weapons, but their ammo supply seems solid. They're producing reloaded rounds in quantity."
"Bossie, more over here," Leah said from behind another wrecked car.
The casings were tightly clustered.
"The firing positions were elevated. That matches Maya's report about being pinned down from above."
Bossie nodded, studying bullet impacts on the vehicles and the ground.
"Crossfire."
"They probably occupied the second-floor windows of that department store and the corner of that used-car lot."
"Clear targets. This wasn't a random ambush."
Leah moved to a broken wall nearby.
Several bullet holes marked the concrete.
She used her knife to pry out a deformed round.
"Lead-core bullet. Not full metal jacket. Manufacturing quality is average, but it'll kill just fine."
Bossie followed a faint trail of blood across the ground and stopped beside a dark, dried pool.
Nearby, several blurred footprints pointed toward a narrow alley.
"Their wounded—or their dead—were taken with them."
Bossie practically lay flat as he inspected the dirt and weeds.
"Multiple sets of footprints. Same boot tread pattern."
"Military boots… but worn differently."
He lowered his voice.
"They retreated this way. Southeast."
He pointed toward a narrow path deeper inside the industrial zone.
The team moved again.
Bossie led the way, following faint traces into the alley.
This kind of tracking demanded sharp eyes. Anyone else would have lost the trail long ago.
A tiny drop of dried blood on a wall.
A chipped fragment of brick.
A strip of gray cloth caught on barbed wire.
In the fading light, details like these were almost impossible to notice.
They pushed deeper into the industrial district.
Factories grew more numerous, and the silence became oppressive.
Only their footsteps and heartbeats disturbed the stillness.
They crossed several blocks, heading deeper into eastern Knoxville's industrial sector.
The buildings grew taller and more decayed. The streets were empty and unsettlingly quiet.
Eventually the trail led them to a massive structure.
An enormous factory building bearing the faded sign:
"Knoxville Precision Machinery Manufacturing Company."
The rusted iron gate had been forced open.
Empty food cans, more shell casings, and fresh tire tracks littered the entrance.
Bossie stopped beside a pile of trash and picked something up.
His breathing paused.
"Leah… look."
Leah leaned in.
It was a scarf.
Cheap material—but unmistakably red.
"Red scarf…" Leah murmured, gripping it tightly as Maya's report echoed in her mind.
The factory grounds were eerily quiet.
No walker growls.
No movement.
Someone—or some group—had cleared the entire area.
Leah signaled:
Hold position. Concealed observation.
The team quickly took cover behind abandoned containers and thick weeds.
Leah and Bossie raised night-vision binoculars.
Mike and Carver watched the rear and flanks.
The main factory gate was closed, but a small side door showed signs of recent and frequent use.
Several rooftop vents released faint streams of warm air that barely disturbed the cold evening air.
Leah spoke quietly.
Her binoculars focused on a third-floor window.
"I see a lookout."
"One guard."
"Three o'clock, right side. Second-floor platform… possible second guard."
Just then, a faint metallic thudding sound drifted across the industrial park.
A deep mechanical rhythm.
Like large machinery operating somewhere inside.
Mike suddenly whispered through the headset.
"High ground. Ten o'clock."
"Old textile mill. Third-floor window."
"I saw a reflection—possibly optics."
Everyone immediately lowered themselves behind cover.
"Confirmed?" Leah asked.
"Seventy percent. Reflection's gone now," Mike replied calmly.
"Sound source is the largest building in Zone B," Bossie said quietly, holding a small listening amplifier to his ear.
"I can also hear voices."
"Too far to make out words, but there are definitely people inside."
"More than a few."
Carver whispered.
"Sounds like a big nest."
"What now? Recon by force?"
Leah shook her head.
Her eyes scanned the seemingly quiet factory complex.
"Suicide."
"We wait."
Time passed slowly.
Suddenly Bossie lifted his head, surprise flashing across his face.
"Leah."
"I picked up fragments of radio traffic."
"They mentioned a production line… defect rates…"
"And a name."
"Lorenzo."
Production line?
Lorenzo?
Leah felt her pulse quicken.
A group capable of running production lines in the apocalypse?
That was far beyond anything she expected.
Suddenly—
The side door of the factory creaked open.
A man stepped out, stretching lazily with a cigarette in his mouth.
Around his neck hung a dark red scarf.
He seemed to have stepped outside for a quick break and didn't notice the hidden recon team.
Then another voice shouted from inside the doorway.
"Hey! Move it!"
"Lorenzo and the others are pushing that new batch!"
"Stop screwing around!"
Leah immediately signaled Bossie.
Record.
Bossie had already zoomed the micro-camera to maximum magnification.
The man's face.
The factory entrance.
Everything was captured clearly.
None of them noticed the corner behind them.
A rusted empty can, resting on top of Mike's hiding container, shifted in the wind—
And began to fall toward the ground.
...
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