Survival in the last days of America

Click!

After entering the room, Brian flipped the switch by the door. The ceiling light flickered a few times before illuminating the dim space.

The room wasn't large. Aside from a desk and chair in the back, there were three large sofas arranged in a U-shape.

He closed the door behind him, walked past the sofas, and sat down in the office chair. Leaning back, he pulled the sealed envelope from his pocket—received earlier at the management center—and glanced out the window to confirm no one was watching. Only then did he tear it open.

Mission: Supply retrieval

Location: Peachtree City

Time Limit: Four days

Brian quickly scanned the note, committing the details to memory. Then, pulling out a lighter from his pocket, he set the paper on fire and dropped it into the ashtray on the desk. He watched it burn to ash before finally looking away, leaning back in the chair, and closing his eyes to rest.

Truthfully, Brian was a little surprised by this mission. Though five years had passed, during the first year the quarantine zone government had been in a recovery phase, so they sent out very few supply teams.

In the following years, the Resistance Army's attacks on checkpoints and their persistent harassment had kept the government on edge. Most of their attention was focused on eliminating this threat to solidify their control.

As a result, the government had only completed about three-fifths of supply collection in the areas surrounding Atlanta. There was no real need to send teams far outside the city.

But thinking deeper, Brian began to understand the reasoning. Right now, Atlanta was a war zone—fierce clashes between the Resistance and government forces were ongoing. The cost and danger of gathering supplies there far outweighed the benefits.

It made more sense to bypass the city entirely and head to nearby towns. This way, they could avoid the rebels, minimize casualties, and significantly improve the efficiency and yield of their mission—a win-win.

While Brian sat with his eyes closed, lost in thought, time slipped by unnoticed. The team members who had been sent out to complete their tasks began returning.

The first to arrive was Norman. The armory was the closest, and with his long strides, he returned first.

Six weapons were neatly leaned against the sofa: three rifles, one submachine gun, one shotgun, and one sniper rifle. Though the weapons showed signs of wear, regular maintenance kept them in excellent condition.

Once seated, Norman began meticulously inspecting each weapon, ensuring they would function flawlessly during the mission.

Next came Kim Seong-min and Wade, each carrying a box of ammunition and some grenades. They took empty spare magazines from Norman, selected the correct rounds, and carefully loaded them.

Elton arrived last. As soon as he sat down, he began testing the radios, making sure communication would be reliable when it mattered most.

While the others sat on the sofas, busy with final preparations, Mike walked in with blackened hands.

"Sergeant, I checked the vehicle. Everything's good."

"Good," Brian replied.

He glanced out the window at the military truck parked outside.

"Are all the necessary supplies loaded?"

"Don't worry," Mike grinned, wiping his hands on his pants. "Even if I seem like a mess, I'm reliable. Tools, spare parts, and everything else we might need—I've already loaded it all into the truck."

"At least you know you're a mess."

Brian gave him a look, half-amused, half-annoyed. Even after several missions together, Mike's childish attitude still made him a little uneasy.

He turned to the rest of the team.

"Don't forget to check your sidearms too."

"Yes, sir!"

"Got it!"

Twenty minutes later, preparations were complete. As the team relaxed on the sofas, chatting and waiting, their radios crackled with a message from the management center:

"Attention, Team B12. Proceed to waiting zone 13-4 and await further instructions."

"Finally! Let's go!"

Mike shot up from the sofa, grabbed his radio, spare magazines, grenades, and rifle, and bolted for the door.

The others, used to his antics, calmly began securing their gear.

"Norman, you're driving. Everyone else, to the back."

Brian turned off the lights, stepped out, and closed the door behind him. He called to Norman and took the passenger seat, opening the door and sliding in.

Mike, already sprinting toward the driver's seat, froze mid-step.

"Sergeant, I always drive! Why the change?"

"Get in the back," Brian said, glancing at Mike through the driver's side window. "If I have to listen to your endless chatter the whole trip, I'll lose my mind. Let me enjoy one quiet mission."

"…"

Mike stood stunned, as if struck by lightning. His energy drained instantly, replaced by a look of utter defeat.

"Come on, get in," Norman said, grabbing Mike by the collar and shoving him into the rear compartment before climbing into the driver's seat.

Vroom! Vroom!

The military truck's engine roared to life. Norman slowly backed it out of the garage. Once fully clear, Kim pulled down and locked the rolling door. The rest of the team climbed into the rear compartment.

Brian opened the small door connecting to the back, checked that everyone was aboard, and said quietly:

"Move out."

Norman nodded, pressed the accelerator, and the truck pulled away from the vehicle depot, exhaust fumes trailing behind.

Outside the Quarantine Zone – Waiting Area

A wide, open field paved with concrete, divided into numbered sections by white lines. The area was mostly empty, with only a few vehicles parked—clearly waiting for teams about to depart on missions.

Norman guided the truck in, quickly located parking spot 13-4, and smoothly pulled in.

"Elton, go report us in."

Brian stepped out of the passenger seat, shielding his eyes from the sun. Suddenly, he spotted a familiar figure in the distance. After a moment's hesitation, he walked toward a tall officer in a command uniform.

The man stood straight and broad-shouldered, nearly half a head taller than Brian. He was reading a document, focused and serious.

"Sir!"

Justin looked up at the familiar voice. Seeing Brian, a genuine smile spread across his face.

"Brian."

Without drawing attention, he slipped the document into his pocket and stepped forward to embrace him.

When Brian first entered the military training base, it was Justin who had escorted them to Atlanta. He had been their instructor, teaching them firearms and hand-to-hand combat.

"Another mission, huh?"

After stepping back, Justin clapped Brian on the shoulder. Remembering the first time he'd seen the boy in Wascot, he said with pride:

"I heard you pulled off a big success last time. Promoted to sergeant and now leading your own team. Congratulations!"

"Yeah, we're about to leave."

Brian nodded, brushing off the praise. Then, with curiosity, he asked:

"Where've you been lately? Haven't seen you in months."

"Ah… uh…" Justin coughed twice, avoiding eye contact, clearly not wanting to answer.

Brian understood immediately. He didn't press further, shifting to lighter topics—discussing the current situation outside, carefully avoiding anything sensitive.

"Sergeant, we're ready to go!"

As they spoke, a shout came from the parking area. Brian turned to see Mike waving at him.

He also noticed two additional cargo trucks parked beside their military truck, along with a group of about a dozen quarantine zone residents.

Brian realized time was short. He said his goodbyes to Justin and jogged over.

"They just notified us," Mike said. "Since we're going farther, we'll leave right after the next convoy. Management's already told us to head to the main gate."

"Are both trucks in good shape?"

"I checked. A bit old, but nothing serious."

"Good."

As they returned to the parking zone, Kim had already finished briefing the residents and loaded them onto the cargo trucks.

Two new soldiers sat in the driver's seats of the cargo vehicles, sweat dripping from their brows—clearly nervous.

"Move out."

As Brian passed the two unfamiliar recruits, he barely glanced at them before climbing into the passenger seat of the military truck. At his command, the three vehicles pulled forward, heading toward the main gate of the quarantine zone.

Once the gate opened, the convoy entered the dangerous ruins of Atlanta. Slowly, they disappeared from the view of the guards on the wall, driving steadily toward the city's southwest.