Day 16.
The Command Deck.
Sauget, Illinois.
20:00 Hours.
The adrenaline was fading, and the pain was waking up.
It started as a throb in my calf, where the Pus-Bomber's acid had eaten through my canvas pants and dissolved a patch of muscle the size of a playing card. Now, it was a screaming, white-hot agony that radiated up to my hip.
I limped up the stairs to the Command Deck, leaving a trail of bloody footprints on the metal grating.
Below me, the factory floor was a hive of panicked activity. The breach in the Eastern Wall was a gaping wound in our defense. Travis was down there, shoving a rusted dump truck into the hole to act as a temporary plug. Yana was coordinating the welding crew, her voice cracking with exhaustion.
We had survived Wave 1. But the System ticker in my vision was merciless.
`[SIEGE STATUS: PAUSED.]`
`[NEXT WAVE: 4 HOURS.]`
`[DEFENSE RATING: CRITICAL (12%).]`
I needed to check the map. I needed to see where the Enclave was. I needed to know if the Red Faction was coming back to pick the bones.
I pushed open the door to the office.
It wasn't empty.
The lights were out—we were still conserving fuel for the turret—but the orange glow of the pilot light outside cast long, dancing shadows across the room.
Shadows that were moving.
Miller was there.
He was kneeling by the heavy steel floor safe beneath the map table. He held a stethoscope to the door, spinning the dial with his good hand. His broken arm was still in a sling, tight against his chest.
Standing guard at the door was Mike—one of the brothers we'd picked up from the suburbs. Dan's brother. The brother of the kid I'd enslaved in the Gutter. Mike held a crowbar, his eyes wide and fearful.
"Step away," I said. My voice was a rasp, weak and breathless.
Miller froze. He didn't look up immediately. He finished the turn.
Click.
The safe handle spun.
"You changed the combo, Jack," Miller said, his voice conversational. "But you used your birthday. October 1st. The day the world ended. You're a narcissist to the end."
He pulled the safe door open.
"Get away from it," I growled, my hand drifting to the Fang .45 on my hip.
Mike stepped forward, raising the crowbar. "Don't move, Monroe! I'll crack your skull!"
"Mike," I said, leaning against the doorframe to take the weight off my burning leg. "Think about what you're doing. This is mutiny."
"You enslaved my brother!" Mike shouted, spittle flying. "You starved us! You killed Paul!"
"Paul was murdered," I said. "By your brother. Over a candy bar."
"Because you starved us!" Mike screamed.
Miller stood up. He reached into the safe and pulled out the Pelican case. The Serum.
"It doesn't matter who killed who," Miller said smoothly. He tucked the case under his good arm. "The ship is sinking, Jack. The wall is gone. The fuel is gone. The Enclave is two miles out waiting to mop up. You held the line today, sure. But tomorrow? We're all dead."
He grabbed a canvas sack from the table. I heard the clinking of metal inside.
The Scrip vault. He had emptied the reserve washers.
"What are you doing, Miller?" I asked. "You can't eat washers. And you can't use that Serum. It'll kill you."
"I'm not using it," Miller smiled. In the flickering light, he looked like a rat that had finally found the cheese. "I'm trading it."
He walked toward the window, looking out at the burning perimeter.
"The Enclave wants the biomass," Miller said. "They want the Serum. Sterling told you that. You said no. I'm going to say yes."
"You're defecting," I said. "You're selling us out."
"I'm negotiating a severance package," Miller corrected. "I bring them the Serum, I bring them the Scrip inventory... and they give me and my boys a ride out of here. Warm beds. Hot food. Vassal status."
`[MUTINY CONFIRMED.]`
`[MILLER LOYALTY: 0%.]`
`[THREAT: EXISTENTIAL.]`
"They'll kill you," I said. "They don't make deals with vectors."
"They make deals with assets," Miller said. "And right now, I'm the only asset that matters."
He nodded to Mike. "Let's go. The truck is loaded."
"No," I said.
I tried to draw the Fang.
My leg gave out. The pain spiked, blinding me for a microsecond. I stumbled, falling to one knee.
Mike lunged. He swung the crowbar.
It connected with my shoulder, a glancing blow that numbed my arm. The gun clattered across the floor, sliding under the map table.
"Stay down!" Mike yelled, raising the bar for a killing blow.
"Don't kill him," Miller ordered sharply. "Not yet. If you kill him, the big freak downstairs goes berserk. We need to be gone before Travis realizes what happened."
Miller walked over to me. He looked down, his face twisted in a sneer of triumph.
"You built a nice cage, Jack," he whispered. "But you forgot to feed the animals."
He kicked me. Hard. Right in the acid burn.
I screamed. I couldn't help it. The pain was absolute. It felt like he had driven a hot spike into the bone. I curled up, gasping, vision swimming with black spots.
"Let's move," Miller said. "Grab the radio. Cut the comms."
Mike grabbed the base station radio and ripped the cords out of the wall. He smashed it on the floor.
They walked out.
I lay on the floor, breathing the dust and the smell of ozone.
"Root," I wheezed. "Root, give me something."
`[ROOT: PAIN IS FUEL. USE IT. GET UP, ARCHITECT. THEY ARE STEALING YOUR KINGDOM.]`
`[ADMINISTRATOR: CRITICAL RESOURCE LOSS. SERUM: GONE. SCRIP: GONE. PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 2%.]`
I dragged myself across the floor. My leg dragged behind me like a dead weight. I reached under the table.
My fingers brushed the cold steel of the Fang.
I gripped it.
I pulled myself up, using the table for leverage. The room spun.
I limped to the window.
Below, in the rear courtyard near the loading dock, I saw them.
It wasn't just Miller and Mike.
There were five of them. Miller. Mike. Two of the new Nulls. And...
Paige.
She was carrying a crate of water. She wasn't being held at gunpoint. She was walking with them.
"No," I whispered.
She was leaving. Vanessa was leaving.
Miller was loading the crew into the back of the armored pickup truck we'd scavenged from the Red Faction. He threw the Pelican case into the cab.
He was stealing the only vehicle we had left. He was stealing the medicine. He was stealing the future.
"Travis!" I tried to shout, but my voice was a broken rasp. The comms were down.
I raised the Fang. I aimed through the glass.
The distance was too far. Fifty yards. Low light. Handgun.
I lowered the weapon.
The truck engine roared to life. Miller got in the driver's seat.
They were driving toward the South Gate. Toward the Enclave blockade.
They were going to hand over the Serum. If the Enclave got the Quintuple batch, they would reverse-engineer it. They would build an army of super-soldiers. And then they would come back and wipe us out.
I couldn't let them leave.
But I couldn't stop them.
Then, I saw a shadow move on the roof of the truck.
It wasn't a shadow.
It was Yana.
She must have been on the perimeter watch. She had seen them loading up. She hadn't engaged—there were five of them, and she was a rogue, not a tank.
But she was there. Clinging to the roof rack like a spider.
The truck accelerated, smashing through the temporary wooden barricade at the South Gate.
Miller was gone.
I slumped against the window frame.
The Mutiny wasn't a riot. It was a heist.
And they had taken everything.
`[SECTOR 1 STATUS: CRIPPLED.]`
`[ASSETS REMAINING: TRAVIS (EXHAUSTED), BOYD (ASLEEP), HELEN (MEDICAL), RONNIE (MAIMED).]`
`[TRAITOR STATUS: MILLER, PAIGE, MIKE, NULLS x2.]`
"You want a war, Miller?" I whispered to the taillights disappearing into the darkness. "You got one."
I looked at the Cruelty trait glowing in my status bar.
I didn't feel the cold anymore. I felt heat.
"Travis," I keyed the emergency backup channel on my headset—the short-range loop. "Travis, come in."
Static. Then a grunt. "Boss?"
"Get to the Command Deck," I said. "Bring the sledgehammer."
"Zombies?"
"No," I said. "We're going hunting."
FOUNDRY PROTOCOL - DAY 16
SECTOR 1 (JACK MONROE) ██░░░░░░░░ 2/10 Nodes
STATUS: MUTINY
Assets Lost: Serum (5 Vials), Scrip Reserve, Transport Truck
Traitors: Miller, Paige, +3 Nulls
Jack: Critical Injury (Acid Burn)
Next Event: The Purge / Execution