Alexei saw the checkpoint before the others spoke.
Concrete barriers blocked the road, forming three lanes that bottlenecked into a single armored gate. Soldiers moved between vehicles in tight patterns, their expressions blank with exhaustion.
Behind them, white CDC tents vibrated from the steady thrum of generators.
Lachlan slowed beside him, gaze sweeping the barricades. "Crowded morning," he muttered.
Zubair counted head positions and weapon angles with the same calm he used for hunting. "Too many rifles pointed inward," he said. "Not enough pointed outward."
Aerenyx lifted his chin slightly as the chemical smell drifted toward them. "This region hides behind disinfectant," he observed. "Fear always smells the same."
Alexei didn't answer. His attention was already settling into the rhythm of the scene — soldier movements, intake flow, tension pockets, blind spots.
