Moving steadily toward the upper floors, Price led his team in a loose but disciplined formation, boots landing softly on the concrete steps of the service stairwell. The space was narrow, cloaked in stale air and shadows, every creak of gear sounding louder than it should. Ghost checked the corners above with his own flashlight, Soap swept his beam across the walls, and Gaz guarded their rear, eyes flicking back toward the darkness below. Nikolai moved in the center, his rifle steady, the silence pressing down on them all.
As they neared the landing of the next floor, faint light spilled from beneath the stairwell door—thin bands of brightness cutting across the dusty floor. More telling than the light were the sounds: muffled voices, indistinct but clearly human, carrying in the stillness. Price raised a hand, and the team froze. They exchanged quick glances, weapons tightening in their grips.
Ghost and Soap stacked on either side of the door, holstering their pistols, they grabbed their rifles , while Gaz shifted to a crouching position along Nikolai. Price gave a subtle nod. In one smooth motion, Soap eased the handle and pushed the door open.
Imidietly after which, they moved in as one, weapons leveled down the corridor. What met their eyes wasn't a band of armed looters or hostile scavengers but a scattering of figures in patient gowns and civilian clothing. Thin, haggard faces turned toward the sudden intrusion, voices cutting off mid-sentence. Among them stood two uniformed police officers, sidearms holstered.
For a heartbeat, the entire hallway froze. The civilians stared wide-eyed, while the two officers stiffened, their hands instinctively going for their sidearms. Price and his team remained in firing stances just for a moment before lowering their weapons.
Price broke the silence first, keeping his tone clipped and firm. "Easy. We're not here to cause trouble. We want to talk with the ones in charge. Who's calling the shots in this place?"
The two officers exchanged a wary glance before one of them spoke up, his voice a mix of caution and relief. "Captain Hanson and Lieutenant Learner. They're the one's in command."
Price gave a short nod, gesturing for his men to ease their posture. "Right. Take us to them." His voice carried the weight of an order, but there was no mistaking the undertone of cooperation.
The officers hesitated only a moment before motioning for Price and his team to follow. Together they moved down the hall, past tired patients and worn staff who paused in their tracks, their eyes fixed on the armed newcomers. The group rounded a corner , ahead Andrew with the squad of Rangers behind him spoke with two officers which Price considered that they must be Captain Hanson and Lieutenant Learner.
Getting closer to them , the two noticed him approaching and turned to face him.
"Looks like introductions are in order," Price said voice firm.
Before Andrew could say anything, Hanson spoke up.
"Captain Roy Hanson," he said, voice steady, his gaze moving between Price and his team. Giving a curt nod to Price. "This is my second, Lieutenant Dawn Learner."
Learner straightened at her name, eyes flicking to the rifles slung across the newcomers' chests.
Price stopped a pace away, hands loose on his rifle. His tone was calm, measured, but carried that unmistakable authority. "John Price. Task Force 141." His eyes flicked between Hanson and Learner, then to Andrew, confirming they were all on the same page. "We're not here to tread on your patch. Just here to talk."
Hanson nodded."Well, introductions are made," Hanson said, exhaling slowly. His tone softened, but there was still weight behind it. "This isn't a conversation for the hallway. Too many ears, too many eyes." He gestured toward a nearby office.
"Let's step inside," Hanson continued, his voice quieter now. "We'll discuss things properly."
Price gave the slightest tilt of his head, wordlessly motioning his team to hold back. "Lead the way, Captain."
...
They entered the office, Price closing the door firmly behind them. Hanson gestured to the worn sofas arranged around a low coffee table. The room still carried traces of its old use—stacks of folders pushed into a corner, blinds half-drawn to block the sun, the faint smell of coffee.
Andrew and Price took one sofa, sitting forward with their gear close at hand. Hanson and Learner settled across from them, both looking weary but alert.
Hanson broke the silence first, his voice low, deliberate. "You'll have to forgive the bluntness, but we've been in the dark since the power went out, there are no comms, no internet. We don't know what's happening out there. What we do know is this—medicine we've got, is plenty, gathered from every floor we could, but food's running out fast. And the generator—" he paused, rubbing a hand across his jaw, "—it's chewing through fuel we barely have. We've cut everything we can, shut down the lower floors and most of the hospital, but it won't last. People here… they're scared. They want to go home. Back to their lives. And now you turn up talking about some kind of operation. That sounds like maybe things are finally getting back under control."
Andrew glanced at Price. Price gave him the smallest nod, then leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees.
"I'll be straight with you, Captain," Price said, voice calm but firm. "We don't know the full picture either. Whatever's left of the government isn't talking to us, and the chain of command's in pieces. What we do know is this: it isn't safe out there. No one's going home. Not yet. The dead—these walkers—aren't going anywhere. And things… things have changed. Old lives are gone."
Andrew picked up where Price left off, his tone steady but respectful. "That's why we're building something new. We've got a plan to deal with a large number of walkers in the city, buy ourselves room to breathe. For that, we need your helicopter. It's the only way to pull our people out quickly ."
Learner leaned forward, brows knit. "And what about our people? The patients, the staff, the officers—everyone we've been protecting here. Do we just get left behind while you fly off?"
Andrew shook his head firmly. "No. This hospital, its staff, its people—they're not being abandoned. Quite the opposite. Medical care is vital if we're going to survive long term. It's going to be a lot of work but we'll fortify this place, make sure it's defended, and bring in the supplies you need. Only that, we want your full cooperation , anything of importance will be discussed with us before deciding a course of action."
The room went quiet, the faint buzzing of the lights above audible in the background.
After another moment of silence, Hanson exhaled heavily and pushed himself up from the sofa. "Alright,i accept your condition's " he said, tone resigned but not unfriendly. "Let's get you to the helicopter." He started toward the door, then paused, turning back. "One more thing—in the supplies you're bringing… food's critical, yes. But if you can spare it—soap, body wash, anything like that. You've no idea how much the people here need them."
Andrew rose with him, adjusting his vest. "Consider it done. When we're back at the FOB, I'll see to it that orders are given. Food, hygiene supplies—whatever we can spare, we'll bring."
Hanson gave a firm nod of gratitude before leading them out into the corridor.
Outside the office, Price's team were already with the Ranger squad, posted in the hallway and speaking in low tones. Gaz leaned against the wall, Soap was restless as always, and Ghost loomed silently, mask unreadable. Nikolai broke off mid-sentence as soon as he spotted Hanson and Andrew coming out.
"Well?" Nikolai asked, accent thick, eyes narrowing with anticipation.
Andrew gave a short nod. "The helicopter's ours."
Nikolai's face split into a grin. "Ha! Good. I was worried we'd have to 'borrow' it without asking. This way, much less messy."
Soap smirked at that, muttering under his breath, "Aye, but maybe not half as fun."
Price shot him a sharp look but didn't bother to comment.
With Hanson and Learner at the front, the group moved through the dim hospital corridors, their footsteps echoing off the walls. Patients and staff watched quietly as the armed men passed, some whispering, others staring at the sight of real soldiers moving with purpose. They climbed several flights of stairs.
Finally, they reached the rooftop access. Hanson pulled open the heavy door, letting in the rush of morning air. There, parked in the center of the hellipad, sat the helicopter.
Crossing the rooftop toward the helipad, boots crunching against gravel and scattered debris. Halfway there, Andrew slowed, his eyes drawn past the hospital's edge. The others followed his gaze. From this height, the city sprawled before them—silent, broken. In the distance, closer to downtown, whole blocks stood blackened, skeletal frames of buildings still scarred from fire. Smoke no longer rose, but the devastation was plain enough.
Soap let out a low whistle. "Bloody hell… looks like half the city got torched."
Gaz adjusted the sling of his rifle, jaw tightening. " Supposed to contain it, wasn't it? All it did was scatter more of 'em."
One of the Rangers muttered, voice heavy with bitterness. "Burned civilians and soldiers along with the infected."
Another Ranger shook his head. "Should've been surgical, not carpet firebombing. All it did was drive people into the suburbs, spread the plague faster."
For a moment, no one spoke. The city stretched out before them, the weight of what had been lost pressing down in the silence. Price finally broke it, his tone quiet but resolute. "What's done is done. No sense staring at the ashes. All that matters is what we do next."
They moved on, the group leaving the view of the ruined skyline behind as they reached the helipad. The helicopter sat waiting—its paint dulled by dust, but otherwise intact.
Nikolai immediately stepped forward, running a hand along the fuselage with something like affection before climbing into the cockpit. He flipped switches, gauges flickering to life one by one, the sound of diagnostics humming through the machine. After a few long moments, he leaned out, a grin spreading across his face.
"She's perfect," he announced, tapping the side of the cockpit. "Fuel, systems, all clean. Whoever parked her here took good care. She'll fly like new."
Soap chuckled. "Good to hear, mate. Thought we'd have to push her off the roof if she didn't."
Nikolai barked a laugh in return, already running through another checklist.
With the helicopter now secured, Andrew turned to the Ranger squad standing nearby. "Alright, regroup with Second Squad, get the JLTVs, and head back to base. Price and I will return in the bird."
The squad leader gave a crisp nod. "Understood, sir." Without hesitation, the Rangers slung their rifles and began moving toward the stairwell, boots echoing against the concrete as they departed.
Andrew shifted his attention back to Hanson and Learner, who had remained near the rooftop access. "We'll be returning to the FOB now. Supplies—including food and hygiene kits—will be prepped and sent here as soon as possible. You'll have what you need to keep this place running."
Hanson exhaled, relief softening his posture. "That'll mean a lot to these people. You've got our thanks, Lieutenant." Learner gave a small nod of agreement, though her eyes lingered on the helicopter.
Andrew gave them both a firm nod before turning away. The rotor blades above were beginning to stir, wind whipping across the rooftop as Nikolai brought the machine fully online. Price and his team were already climbing aboard, their gear rattling against the frame.
Andrew jogged the last few steps and pulled himself inside.
Nikolai glanced back from the cockpit with a wolfish grin. "Strap in tight, my friends. She hasn't flown in a while, but she's eager to stretch her wings."
Soap chuckled, tightening his harness. "Aye, just make sure she doesn't fall out the bloody sky."
The engines roared to life, the noise reverberating through the rooftop. Hanson and Learner shielded their eyes against the rotor wash as the helicopter lifted off, dust swirling in its wake.
Atlanta sprawled beneath them as they banked away from the hospital.
...
Flying high over the city, the helicopter cut a steady line through the sky. From this height, the devastation was laid bare in full—whole neighborhoods reduced to husks, the early "safe zones" little more than scorched ruins where firebombs had fallen during Operation Cobalt. Beyond the blackened patches, the streets writhed with motion. Thousands of walkers clogged intersections, their shambling forms crowding the pavement like a living tide.
Soap leaned closer to the window, shaking his head. "Christ Almighty… there's more down there than we ever saw on the ground."
Gaz frowned, his tone grim. "That's not just a horde—that's the whole city walking. No wonder we're choking for space."
Even Ghost muttered low through his mask, eyes fixed on the endless masses below. " Even after the bombing , there is still a greate number of them."
Andrew kept his gaze steady, jaw tight. He didn't bother to comment; the sight said enough.
Before long, Price grabbed the radio, his voice cutting through the thrum of the rotors. "Ironwood actual, this is Price. We're inbound with the bird. Prep an LZ."
Griggs' voice crackled back a moment later, calm but urgent. "Copy that, Price. You'll see it marked. White H. We'll have men on standby."
As they drew closer to the resort's perimeter, Nikolai's sharp eyes scanned the ground. There, painted in bold white across the ground in an open area of the golf course , was a large H—improvised but unmistakable. Spotters on the ground waved bright signal panels, dust rising in the rotor wash.
Nikolai grinned from the cockpit. "There she is. Clear as day." He dipped the nose of the helicopter, steady hands guiding the descent. "Hold on, gentlemen—we land smooth."
The chopper dropped lower, the wind whipping against the nearby tree's as civilians and soldiers alike gathered to watch the machine touch down.
The helicopter's skids touched down with a shuddering thump, rotor wash blasting across the ground. Dust swirled around the LZ, soldiers shielding their faces as the bird settled onto the painted white H.
As the rotors began to slow down, the side doors swung open. Andrew dropped out first, followed by Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost. Together they walked toward Major Griggs, who was waiting not far from the landing zone.
Griggs cracked a wide grin as they approached, clapping his hands together. "Well I'll be damned—you actually brought it back in one piece. Fine work, all of you. That chopper's gonna make a hell of a difference."
Andrew gave a short nod. "It wasn't without risk, but the hospital was intact. Inside we found police officers keeping things together, with civilians—patients, staff, and others who sought refuge. They're holding on, but they're low on supplies. They've got medicine, but food and basic hygiene are running out fast."
Griggs' smile faded, replaced by a more thoughtful frown. "Supplies can be arranged. But only if they're willing to work with us. Cooperation goes both ways."
"They will," Andrew assured him firmly. "We've already discussed it. They'll keep the hospital running. Once we're finished with CDC, I'll start prepping supplies for delivery."
Griggs nodded, satisfied, before gesturing toward the command post nearby. "Good. Because something else came up. Scouts I sent out this morning, checked the rail terminal. Turns out, there are people holed up there too. Civilians, from the looks of it. No sign of weapons. But we need those containers. I want you with the convoy out there, Lieutenant, speak with them directly. Make it clear—we're not looking for a fight. I don't want blood spilled over shipping containers ."
Andrew gave a single, measured nod. "Understood. I'll see the supplies for the hospital are prepped before I roll out with the convoy. That way, once CDC is dealt with, both fronts are covered."