Exiting the office, Andrew exhaled — it had gone better than he expected. The lieutenant had asked him a few more questions: how the virus was spreading, its symptoms, and the most effective ways to combat it. Andrew answered carefully, making sure not to give the impression that he knew more than they think he knows.
At the end , the lieutenant leaned back in his chair and said, "Given the state of emergency, I can offer you reinstatement. I know you were U.S. Army previously , not National Guard — but your rank would be restored, with certain limitations on your authority , of course."
Andrew raised a brow. "Reinstatement, sir? With limitations?"
The lieutenant gave a firm nod. "Considering the information you've provided, and the fact you're a former Ranger — you'd be a damn asset in dealing with this situation. We need experienced people out there, and frankly, I don't have the luxury of turning down capable men right now."
Andrew hesitated for a moment. It felt strange — just days ago, he'd been an active-duty soldier , in the middle of his deployment. Now here, in this nightmare, the uniform was waiting for him again. He weighed the pros and cons .
Finally, Andrew extended his hand. "Alright, sir. I'll take it."
The lieutenant grasped it firmly. "Good. Welcome back, Sergeant."
Afterward, the lieutenant turned to the Staff Sergeant . "Get him a uniform and rank insignia. No need to assign a weapon — he's brought his own," he added, gesturing toward the duffle bag on the table.
Andrew picked up the bag, slinging it over his shoulder as the lieutenant gave him a nod.
The lieutenant then dismissed them both. Before leaving, Andrew and the Sraff Sergeant snapped a crisp salute, which the lieutenant promptly returned.
They were currently heading to get a uniform for Andrew. On the way, he kept thinking about how to leave the compound. Even if he was technically reinstated, along with his rank, there was no way he'd be allowed to simply walk out through the front gate. He'd have to find another way.
As they made their way toward the area where equipment was stored, they passed numerous people. Some were sleeping on cots or the ground, while others sat in small groups, their faces marked by exhaustion, fear, and uncertainty. There were people visibly distressed, some quietly weeping, a few pacing anxiously . Others sat silently, their vacant stares betraying a sense of shock and disbelief.
A few things caught Andrew's attention — a woman speaking urgently to someone inside a closed civilian tent, a pair of men exchanging tense glances, and groups of people who seemed too anxious, as if they were hiding something. The tension in the air was heavy, palpable, the kind that settled in before things went bad.
Andrew knew what it meant. No doubt there were already infected people among the people inside the safe zone — it was only a matter of time before everything boiled over. He needed to play along for now, get the uniform, and then find a way to slip out before everything went to hell.
Passing several guards, they reached a makeshift supply point set up in one of the building's large storage rooms, where quartermasters managed what gear and uniforms they could gather.
Approaching the quartermaster, the Staff Sergeant informed him, "Commander's orders — issue a uniform and Sergeant's rank insignia for him," nodding toward Andrew.
The quartermaster arched an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Alright," he grunted, then gestured for Andrew to follow. He led him into a room that had been repurposed as a makeshift storage space, filled with shelves of folded uniforms, boots, and gear stacked in rough order.
After quickly taking his measurements, the quartermaster handed Andrew a set of fatigues and a pair of combat boots. Andrew changed into them, tightening the boots and adjusting the fit of the uniform. Over the uniform, he strapped on his chest rig and the rest of his personal gear from the duffle bag.
The quartermaster gave him a once-over, eyeing the non-standard gear and MP5 before making a dry remark. "Not regulation issue… but I guess we're past worrying about that now."
Andrew gave a faint nod, finishing up as the Staff Sergeant waited by the door.
...
Later that afternoon, the command staff convened for a briefing inside the makeshift command center set up within the Georgia World Congress Center. Andrew stood among them in uniform, his newly sergeant insignia in place, blending in outwardly while keeping a careful mental distance. The lieutenant began assigning tasks to the assembled personnel — establishing additional perimeter checkpoints, escorting refugees to screening stations, distributing rations, and securing nearby intersections. Andrew was placed on a small recon and security detail tasked with sweeping a residential block nearby . Andrew thought to be a convenient assignment, as it would put him closer to potential escape routes. He played along, nodding in acknowledgment as the orders came down, though his mind was already at work, calculating how best to use this opportunity. He knew the safe zone's fragile stability wouldn't hold for long, and when it fell, being trapped inside would be a death sentence.
...
After the briefing was over, Andrew had some time before he was expected to meet the team assigned to him. The first thing he did was to retrieve his combat knife, which was confiscated when they were picked up , slipping it back into place on his chest rig. Then, without wasting time, he went looking for Jun-hyuk and the rest, intending to quietly retrieve the pistol he'd entrusted to them. Whether they chose to stay or leave was up to them — but Andrew had already made up his mind. One way or another, he wasn't going to get trapped inside this so-called safe zone.
As he made his way through the crowded corridors of the makeshift shelter, Andrew passed a few soldiers standing off to the side, talking with people who were presumably their parents or family. The conversations were hushed, but the tension was thick in the air, and the haunted look in some of their eyes was unmistakable. It made Andrew's chest tighten for a moment, a pang of sympathy cutting through his resolve.
"They don't see it yet," he thought grimly. "Holding on to hope, clinging to whatever scraps of normalcy they have left. But this place won't hold. It's already falling apart , and they don't even realize it. When it goes, it's going to go fast."
He forced the thought aside and kept moving. There was no room for sentiment now. Every minute counted, and the window to get out before the inevitable collapse was getting smaller by the minute .
...
It was late afternoon sunlight filtered through the overcast sky, casting a dim, washed-out hue over the compound. Floodlights stood ready for nightfall, though the air already hummed with nervous energy — murmurs of hushed conversation, the distant thump of helicopter rotors, and the restless shuffle of uneasy crowds.
Andrew stepped out of the main building, his eyes sweeping across the compound. He made his way between rows of military tents. Civilians sat or huddled in scattered groups — some crying quietly, others staring into the distance with empty, shell-shocked expressions. A few soldiers moved through the scene, keeping uneasy watch.
Near a row of portable toilets, a small group of civilians knocked anxiously on a door.
"Hey — you alright in there? You feeling okay?"
No reply. The tension thickened.
Andrew glanced sidelong, his brow furrowed.
In a nearby medical tent, several sick civilians lay on makeshift cots. One coughed violently while others groaned softly, the heavy scent of sweat and antiseptic hanging thick in the air.
At the edge of his vision, Andrew spotted a figure stumbling between two tents .
He stopped in his tracks, staring.
There was quiet, tense moment.
Then, a sharp, SHRILL SCREAM split the air.
Moments later a burst of gunfire followed — Pop-pop-pop.
More screams erupted as civilians scattered in a wave of blind panic. Tents collapsed as people bolted in every direction.
Andrew gritted his teeth.
"Damn it."
He sidestepped quickly, pressing himself against a tent's wall as a tide of terrified people surged past.
"Here it comes. Knew it wouldn't hold."
The compound descended into chaos — soldiers shouting over each other, civilians fleeing, sporadic gunfire cracking through the air.
Andrew steadied his weapon, his mind racing for a way out.
" Fuck , I can't waste any more time , i have to move."
Andrew secured the MP5 to his chest rig and drew his combat knife. In tight quarters like this, the knife would be far more effective. Moving quickly between the tents, he kept low and alert. As he'd expected, one of the freshly reanimated lunged at him from the side.
It came fast, teeth bared.
Andrew brought up his forearm, the undead biting down on the arm protection . Without hesitation, he drove the blade into the side of its skull. The body stiffened, then dropped lifelessly to the ground.
He didn't waste a second.
Andrew kept moving, weaving between the collapsing tents, heading toward the perimeter. All around him, screams echoed through the compound, mingling with frantic gunfire and shouted orders.
Heading toward the compound's exit, Andrew forced himself to tune out the screams and gunfire, focusing only on moving forward. As he left the maze of tents behind, he noticed something in the corner of his eyes .
He turned to see what it was , and to his surprise, saw a group of familiar faces — most of the main cast from The Walking Dead. They were cornered between a shipping container and the fence. Shane was wrestling with an undead while two more closed in on the others.
Andrew glanced toward the exit. More of the dead were gathering there . He sighed heavily, then pivoted.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath.
Moving fast, Andrew stabbed the undead that was grappling with Shane in the back of the skull. Without slowing down, he drove his knife into the temple of the next one, then tripped the third, pinning it and finishing it with a swift jab to the head.
The group stared, mouths agape — his sudden intervention leaving them momentarily speechless. The chaos around them quickly snapped them back to reality.
"Move!" Andrew barked.
They nodded, murmuring hurried thanks as they started running towards the exit .
Andrew himself was about to head to the exit, when he remembered about the others and that he left his pistol with Jun-hyuk . For a brief second, he considered leaving them behind . But a stubborn sense of responsibility tugged at him.
"Shit," he muttered, then begrudgingly veered off to look for them.
Navigating carefully between fleeing civilians and roaming undead , Andrew stayed low, avoiding attention. As he passed a row of portable toilets, a sudden crash came from his left. A door flew open and an undead lunged out at him. Reacting fast, Andrew raised his left arm, the creature's teeth sinking into the arm protection , sparing him serious injury. Gritting his teeth, he struggled for a moment before managing to shove it off.
Panting, he pulled himself to one knee and drove his knife into its skull.
He didn't have time to rest — three more undead were already approaching, drawn by the commotion.
Before they could reach him, each collapsed with a clean shot to the head.
Andrew spun toward the source of the gunfire.
Jun-hyuk stood a short distance away, Glock in hand, with the rest of the group clustered behind him.
Andrew got up, wiping sweat from his brow as he walked over to the group. He gave Jun-hyuk a firm nod.
"Appreciate the save," Andrew said.
Jun-hyuk shook his head. "No need. You helped us and trusted us with the pistol. Figured it was the least I could do."
Andrew gave a grim nod. No time for more words. "We need to move. Now."
The others didn't argue — fear and urgency written across their faces. But a glance toward the main gate confirmed what Andrew suspected. It was hopeless. A mass of undead pressed against the barricades, both from inside and outside the compound, drawn by the chaos. Any official exit would be the same .
Scanning the area, Andrew's gaze landed on a firetruck parked near a section of perimeter fencing farther from the gate. An idea sparked.
"This way!" he called, motioning for them to follow.
As they moved, Andrew noticed other survivors nearby — faces pale, eyes hollow, gripped by despair. The hopelessness in the air was palpable. Seeing Andrew's group making for the firetruck, a flicker of desperate hope lit in their expressions, and they instinctively started trailing after them.
Andrew only noticed the growing number once they reached the vehicle. Among them, he recognized the soldiers he'd seen earlier with their families.
He frowned , but didn't have time to waste.
Without wasting a second, Andrew grabbed a pair of bolt cutters from the side compartment of the firetruck and handed them to a nearby teacher , which was Erik.
"Cut through that fence," he ordered, pointing toward the chain-link barrier topped with barbed wire.
Turning to the gathered crowd, Andrew's voice rose above the noise. "You, you, and you — on me!" he barked, singling out the three soldiers.
They hesitated only a moment, recognizing the authority in his sergeant's insignia. Worry flickered in their eyes, but they stepped forward.
"You'll help me hold them off, buy the others time to get through," Andrew ordered.
Then he turned to Jun-hyuk. "You cover the perimeter — drop anything coming in from the outside."
Jun-hyuk gave a tense nod, gripping the Glock tighter.
Everyone moved without argument, falling into their roles as the undead closed in.
Under Andrew's orders, the three soldiers took position and focused their fire, aiming for headshots to drop the oncoming undead. Each round echoed sharp and desperate in the chaos, thinning the front line of the growing horde, but more kept coming.
Meanwhile, the teacher worked fast, cutting through the fence with the bolt cutters. The metal links snapped and clattered under his effort. As soon as the opening was wide enough, Jun-hyuk slipped through first, Glock raised, scanning for threats outside the compound. He grabbed the cut section and held it open, waving the others through.
One by one, the survivors scrambled out. Parents ushered their children, faces pale with fear, while stragglers darted through in panicked bursts. Andrew waited near the rear, covering the exit until the last person was through. Behind them, the sounds of relentless gunfire and distant screaming hung in the thick, smoke-laced air. Overhead, helicopters thundered away from the city, carrying what few personnel had managed to reach them — abandoning the doomed safe zone below.
Once clear, Andrew motioned toward a nearby building.
"Move! Inside — now!" he barked.
Jun-hyuk took point alongside Andrew, the two sweeping through the front entrance while the soldiers formed a tight rear guard, keeping any undead at bay. The building interior was eerily silent, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. No immediate threats.
"Clear," said Jun-hyuk , breathing hard.
Satisfied, Andrew turned back to the others. "Get in, move it!"
The group poured inside, soldiers last to follow, pulling the doors shut behind them. For now, they had shelter from the chaos outside.