MTLNOVEL Chapter 20 - Foundations of Survival
The last of the walkers were still coming—stragglers, some dragging a mangled leg, others lurching forward in awkward bursts of speed. A few broke into sloppy jogs, arms swinging wildly, but they didn't make it far. Short, precise bursts from the Rangers cut them down before they could close the distance.
Price scanned the street, waited for a beat, then lowered his rifle. "That's it. Mount up—we're movin' in."
He signaled toward the barricades ahead, picking out the narrow lane the defenders had cleared for vehicles to pass through. The JLTV gunners kept their weapons trained in the direction the walkers had come from as the rest piled back in. Soap swung himself into the driver's seat of the lead vehicle, giving Price a quick nod.
"Try not to hit the furniture," Price muttered dryly as he climbed into the passenger side. Gaz stayed in the turret, hands gripping the handles of the .50 cal.
They rolled forward, the big tires crunching over shell casings and spent brass. As they neared the fortified entrance, Price took in the defenses—rows of concrete barriers stacked two high, sandbags lining firing positions, and a few chain-link gates reinforced with sandbags. The soldiers manning them looked exhausted , eyes shadowed, shoulders sagging, rifles resting a fraction too low.
"Looks like they've been at it for days," Ghost said, his tone unreadable beneath the mask.
Price gave a small grunt of agreement. When they came to a halt just inside the barricade, he stepped down from the JLTV, boots hitting the pavement hard. He approached the nearest soldier—a young private in dusty combat fatigues, his helmet tilted slightly to one side.
"Soldier , Who's in charge here?"
Price asked , his voice firm and edged with command.
The private straightened a little , though he was still catching his breath. "Sergeant Miller, he's the one in charge . He's over there." He pointed toward a man sitting on some sandbags near a .50 cal machine gun.
"Right," Price said with a curt nod.
Captain Price walked over to Sergeant Miller. The man was hunched on a stack of sandbags, tallying magazines with a weary focus. At the sound of boots approaching, he looked up.
"Sergeant Miller?" Price asked, his tone clipped. "I'm told you're the one in charge here."
Miller gave a short nod. "Yeah. That's me. And… who might you be?"
"Captain Price," he replied evenly. " We were sent to check the status of the CDC. Looks like we arrived just in time."
Miller let out a rough breath, shaking his head. "You did. We were about to pull out when the infected hit us again. Already running low on ammo. If you hadn't shown up…" His voice trailed off, and he glanced toward the battered barricades. "We'd have been overrun."
Price raised an eyebrow. "You were abandoning the CDC?"
The sergeant shifted uncomfortably. "We lost contact with command days ago. We were and are short on ammo . We couldn't have held much longer. Honestly, if you hadn't come when you did, I don't know how many of us would've made it."
Price gave a small grunt, half reproach, half understanding. "Good thing we came prepared, then. We've got enough ammo. Send some of your lads to collect it, get it distributed properly."
Miller nodded, relief flickering across his tired features. He started to rise, but Price held up a hand to stop him.
"And the scientists?"
"Inside the main building," Miller answered quickly.
After informing Ranger-1 that the soldiers needed ammo, Price started toward the CDC's main building, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz falling in close behind, their boots echoing against the cracked pavement. Most of the Guardsmen were still manning the outer barricades, eyes scanning for walkers , others were walking towards the JLTV-s to unload the ammo .
The glass doors that lead into the building's main lobby gave a reluctant creak as he pushed them open, and the four stepped in. The place felt eerily untouched compared to the streets outside—dim lights still humming, air faintly cool from the working ventilation.
Near the tall windows, five figures stood watching what was happening outside. They flinched slightly when the soldiers entered, their tension almost palpable.
Price's voice carried across the lobby, firm and clipped. " Stay calm, everything is settled. We just cleared out the trouble at your gate."
The group exchanged quick looks before a woman in a lab coat stepped forward, squaring her shoulders. "Dr. Candace Jenner," she said, voice steady despite the exhaustion in her eyes. She gestured to the man beside her. "This is my colleague, Dr. Edwin Jenner. The others are junior researchers."
Price gave a curt nod. "Captain Price . You're the ones runnin' this place, then?"
"Yes," Candace replied. "What's left of it, anyway."
Soap muttered under his breath, "Doesn't look like much of a welcoming committee," earning a sidelong glance from Ghost.
Price ignored him and focused on Candace.
" What we need right now is simple—how many of you are left, and what's your status here?"
Candace hesitated, then spoke with clinical precision. "Only the five of us are left , we still have food and medicine—enough to last months if rationed properly. Our problem is the generators. As long as the city's grid holds, we're fine. But when it goes down… we have maybe two months of fuel at best."
Gaz frowned. "And after that, you're in the dark."
Candace exhaled slowly, her tone sharper now. " Not exactly. When the power dies, this facility is programmed to self-sterilize. A failsafe—this entire building will be destroyed to ensure nothing here, no disease or pathogen, escapes uncontrolled."
Soap blinked. "Bloody hell…"
Price's expression didn't change, but his eyes narrowed. "Convenient way of sayin' the whole lot of you go up with it."
Candace held his gaze, unflinching. "It was always part of the contingency. We work with things that can't be allowed out."
Price's expression hardened slightly. "Right. And your research? What have you actually learned?"
This time Edwin stepped in, adjusting the papers clutched in his hands. "Not enough. We've studied a reanimated subject . Transmission seems tied to blood and saliva, but the exact process is still unclear. We know the body reanimates after death, but it's unpredictable. Minutes, sometimes hours. What little we've gathered suggests the brainstem plays a role."
Candace added quickly, "But we don't have the full picture. No proper records of the exact transition. Every attempt has been limited by… ethics."
Price raised a brow at that, lips tightening beneath his mustache. "Ethics. World's burnin', and you're worried about playin' by the rules."
Candace met his look evenly, her jaw firm. "There's still a line, Captain. And some of us aren't ready to cross it."
For a beat, no one spoke. Ghost finally broke the silence, his tone flat. "So bottom line: you know it spreads through bites, and that destroyin' the brain puts 'em down."
Candace gave a small, almost reluctant nod. "Yes. That much, at least, we can confirm."
Price let out a low grunt. "Not news to us. But it's somethin'. You've done good keepin' at it this long—don't stop now. Every scrap you put together could be what tips the balance one of those days . The world's gonna need answers, and you lot are the closest we've got from where we could get it ."
Candace's posture softened, and for the first time a faint flicker of pride broke through her exhaustion. "Thank you, Captain. Hearing that… it helps more than you know." She exchanged a glance with the others, then turned back to Price. "Come with me. I'll show you what we've managed to gather from the infected we've studied."
...
Back at the resort, Andrew made his way toward what was now being used as the mess hall. About an hour earlier, he had told one of the police officers to gather everyone there—something important needed to be addressed. While the officer along other three officer's went about rounding people up, Andrew sat down with Major Griggs and Nikolai to discuss the purpose of the gathering. Chief among the points was the need to replace the resort's iron fence with a proper wall to ensure security, along with several other pressing matters.
As he walked, Andrew found himself thinking , the meeting wasn't just about safety. It would give people something else to focus on—something constructive. With the world outside collapsing, keeping minds occupied might be the only way to stave off despair and prevent mental breakdowns.
The mess hall carried a low hum of unease as people filled the tables, some whispering to each other, others staring at their hands. The air smelled faintly of food and coffee, but no one was eating. They were waiting. The police officers who had gathered them stood along the walls, while a handful of military personnel—men and women in logistics roles, sat off to one side.
Andrew stepped forward, catching the room's attention. "Alright, listen up. We've got a roof over our heads and food on the tables. But that fence outside—it won't hold if things get worse. We need proper defenses. That means a wall. And for that, we'll need more than muscle—we'll need heavy machinery."
A ripple of murmurs moved through the crowd. Andrew raised his voice slightly. "If any of you have experience with construction equipment, i will ask you to raise your hand ."
After few moments five hands went up . Then, after another moment of pause, two more followed, hesitantly. One older man cleared his throat. "I worked a backhoe for twenty years. Can run an excavator too." Another added, "I did time on a bulldozer crew, nothin' fancy but I know my way around it."
A younger man, almost sheepish, spoke up next. "Not as much as them, but… I've handled forklifts at the warehouse I worked in. Might be useful."
Andrew gave a nod. "That's good. All of it's useful. We'll need every hand that knows their way around machinery."
He let the words sink in, then continued. "Now, machines won't build a wall without materials. We'll have to go out and get them. Steel, concrete, wood, fuel—whatever we can scavenge. We'll send out parties for it. The Rangers will handle threats. Civilians will focus on gathering and hauling supplies. Everyone has a role."
A woman near the front raised her hand. "Where exactly are we supposed to find all this? Isn't it dangerous to go out there?"
Andrew met her eyes. "Yes, it is. But we'll scout first. Construction sites, supply yards, maybe warehouses nearby. We won't send you out blind, and you won't be alone."
Another man called out from the back. "What about food? We've got stores now, but how long's it gonna last?"
Andrew hesitated, then answered plainly. "Long enough to buy us time. But eventually, we'll need to think about resupply or making our own. Right now, though—defenses come first. Without walls, none of the rest matters."
Someone else asked, "And fuel? If we find machines, they won't run without it."
Nikolai, leaning against the wall, chimed in with his thick accent. "Fuel depots, trucking companies—places like this. We will find some. Do not worry, it is on the list."
The room quieted again. Andrew looked around, seeing tired faces but also a few nods of determination. "I know it's a lot to take in. But we don't get through this by waiting around. We do it by working together. Tomorrow morning, we form the parties, and the work begins. Tonight—rest. You'll need it."
With that, he gave a final nod and stepped back, leaving the hum of whispers to rise again among the tables.