A WEEK LATER
Darius stood motionless in front of the black-steel monument.
He wore his full combat gear matte body armor over dark fatigues, boots laced tight, gloves tucked into his belt. His face was clean-shaven now, though it hadn't softened him. It just exposed the hollowness beneath his eyes, the hardness in his jaw. The Captain had returned, but the man was still buried under scars.
In his hands, he held a bouquet of white lilies.
The Mahana Island Memorial stretched wide before him. Row after row of names carved in silence, soldiers, medics, civilians, even the ones who'd turned. The government didn't discriminate here. Everyone who died on that island, whether by fire or infection, had earned their stone.
Darius found the names—his parents' names.
Maya Quinn.
Liam Quinn.
He knelt slowly and laid the flowers down without a word.
There was nothing left to say.
His gloved hand hovered over the names, fingertips brushing the cold steel. His breath hitched, but no tears came. Not anymore. He had wept his soul dry a year ago.
Footsteps approached behind him.
"Captain Quinn," said a quiet voice.
Darius didn't move.
"The convoy is ready, sir. They're waiting at the base."
He rose without a word, gave the memorial one last glance, then turned toward the military van idling nearby.
---
The ride to the camp was silent.
Inside the vehicle, the soldier who had addressed him earlier sat opposite him, eyes occasionally darting up to glance at Darius. But he said nothing else. The weight that radiated off the Captain was enough to suffocate words.
Twenty minutes later, they passed through the outer gates of the secure facility. Barbed fences. Watchtowers. Humvees parked in rows. The smell of fuel and steel filled the air.
Darius stepped out, eyes scanning the base automatically. It was muscle memory.
A female officer waited for him at the entrance to the central building. She straightened when he approached.
"Sir," she said, saluting. "They're assembled in Briefing Room Three."
He nodded.
"This way, Captain."
Darius followed her through the corridor, past thick steel doors and concrete walls. Every step echoed faintly under the overhead lights until they reached the last room at the end of the hall
---
At the Briefing Room
The steel doors opened with a hiss.
Darius walked in without hesitation, his boots echoing against the tiled floor of the operations center. The air inside was cool, sterile, and tense. Around the long table sat several high-ranking officers, their uniforms crisp, their expressions unreadable.
Colonel Glenn stood at the head of the table and gave a small nod as Darius entered. He didn't smile. No one did.
"Captain Quinn," Glenn said, motioning to the empty seat across from him. "Take a seat."
Darius took his place at the table without speaking, his back straight, hands resting on the surface. His eyes scanned the room quickly, faces both familiar and new. Most of them didn't meet his gaze.
The digital wall behind Glenn displayed a 3D topographic map of Mahana Island, flickering occasionally with static. Areas were marked in red, others blinking orange, zones of infection, high-alert regions, and the central lab marked with a pulsing white icon.
General Thorne, seated to Glenn's left, cleared his throat and leaned forward slightly.
"Before we begin, I want something clarified," he said, his voice sharp but controlled. "Some of us still question whether Captain Quinn is the right person for this operation."
The air stiffened.
Thorne didn't pause. "You have not been in the field for a year now, Captain. You have not filed operational reports. You withdrew from all contact with the department. You disappeared, and for a while, many of us assumed you were never coming back."
Darius didn't flinch.
"I didn't disappear," he replied evenly. "I requested retirement. It was granted. I followed protocol, and I never said I was coming back," he said in one breath.
Another officer, Major Hall, adjusted the pen in his hand and spoke next.
"This mission is not a personal one. We cannot afford emotional volatility. You lost your pregnant wife, your family, friends, and everything you ever cared about on that island. We all know that. Our fear is not about your skills, Captain, it's about whether those memories will interfere when it matters most."
Darius nodded slowly.
"I understand the concern," he said. "And you have every right to question me. But I'll be clear. I'm not asking for your confidence. I came because I was called. I will finish the job."
Colonel Glenn leaned forward now, folding his arms on the table.
"Captain Quinn is not being brought in because we are short-staffed," he said. "He is here because he is the only person in this room who knows that facility down to its foundations. He helped construct the interior security protocols. He's navigated the tunnels beneath the lab. If we send anyone else, they will die within the first hour."
He looked around the room.
"You may doubt his readiness, but I do not. Even his records speak for him, twenty-three high risk missions, all successful.
I asked him to be here, and I stand by that decision."
A long pause followed.
No one could question that. He was one of the best the nation ever had.
General Thorne didn't respond immediately. He simply glanced again at the map, then folded his hands in front of him.
"Very well," he said. "Then let's review the objective."
The digital screen zoomed in to show the military lab at the heart of the island. The image was overlaid with years-old satellite data and live feeds corrupted by static.
Colonel Glenn took control again.
"A year ago, we believed the infection had been completely contained within Mahana. The island was sealed. We shut down all air and sea traffic, and all channels of communication were cut. We believed there were no survivors, no active spread, and that the virus would die with the island."
He paused for a moment before continuing.
"However, seventeen days ago, isolated reports began to surface, cases with VX-97 symptoms showing up on the mainland. The infected were quickly neutralized, and we managed to suppress public knowledge. But the fact remains: the virus made it off the island and we still do not know how."
Darius's brow tightened. He tried to act surprised, though he already knew about this classified information from Colonel Glenn.
"And now you believe the antivirus is still inside the lab?"
"Yes," Glenn confirmed. "We believe the lead virologist Dr. Kensley completed a working prototype before the blackout. All traces of that research vanished when the camp went dark. Nothing was uploaded to HQ servers. There's no copy, no backup, no replication."
Major Hall added, "Our latest aerial scans suggest the lab's main containment vault is still intact. That gives us a narrow window of hope that the formula, or at least the research data is retrievable."
"And the resistance?" Darius asked.
"We don't have precise intel," Glenn admitted. "But based on what we've seen from drone footage, what little remains you'll be facing advanced stages of the mutation. The infected are faster. Their sensory range has evolved. They're highly aggressive, and we suspect some level of rudimentary coordination."
Darius processed the information silently.
Thorne finally leaned forward again.
"Captain Quinn," he said, his voice firm. "If there are any survivors left on the island, your orders are to extract them. But let me be perfectly clear. This mission is not about rescue. It's about securing the antivirus. If you must choose between lives and the cure, you will prioritize the cure. Do you understand that?"
Darius hesitated, then said, "I understand."
The words came out low but steady.
Another officer spoke quietly now, softer than the others.
"You're not just going back into danger. You're returning to the place that took everything from you. Are you prepared for what that means?"
Darius looked up, his eyes steady.
"No one can ever be prepared for that," he said. "But it's not about what I'm ready for. It's about what needs to be done."
There was a long silence.
Then Colonel Glenn stood.
"You'll soon brief with nine other handpicked soldiers who will join you on this mission. You'll also be provided with special weapons, custom silencers designed for this operation. They produce no sound, critical because the Cravings are highly sensitive to noise."
He turned toward Darius.
"As you already know, the Cravings are mindless, but extremely sensitive to sound. A helicopter drop is out of the question. You'll deploy by boat and proceed on foot using stealth."
"You'll receive full tactical briefing and equipment prep in the next few hours. Your survival will depend on every second you spend reviewing those files. The deployment is tomorrow zero five hundred," General Thorne said.
Glenn stepped around the table and approached him directly now, voice lowering.
"Some of your comrades don't approve of you leading this mission, but I trust you can handle that yourself," Glenn said with a tired smile.
He trusted him a lot. He had gone on many missions with him and knew what Darius could do.
Darius gave a slow nod.
"I'll get it done."
---