The base felt different that morning. Heavier, quieter, like the walls themselves knew what was coming. Maybe it was just me noticing, or maybe everyone had the same thought buried in their heads. The battery was ready. That meant the lab was next.
Breakfast told the story without anyone saying it. Usually people joked, argued, filled the room with noise. Not today. Forks scraped against metal trays, but laughter barely flickered. Even when someone tried, it sounded forced, like they were reading a line they didn't believe in.
I stared down at my food, watching steam curl upward until it vanished. I barely touched it. Across the table Marcus kept bouncing his leg. He always did that when nerves got the better of him. Sarah just sat there, her fork stuck in a piece of bread she never ate, her eyes focused somewhere far away. Jason, who never shut up on a normal day, didn't make a single joke. He didn't even smile.
It was strange, realizing fear showed up strongest in the safest places. Out in the ruins, you don't have time to feel it. In here, it sat with you like another person at the table.
When we finally pushed our trays away, Commander Holt called us to the main room. The big screen flickered, the city map stretching across it. Half the zones glowed red now, which meant don't even think about it. The others showed yellow. Technically possible, practically a graveyard.
Holt stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes steady but heavy. You could feel him sizing us up, measuring what was left in each of us.
"The battery has a window," he said. His voice was calm, steady, like he refused to let it shake. "If it doesn't get charged in the lab, everything we've done here dies with it. You all understand that."
Nobody spoke. We didn't need to.
He listed the team. Me. Marcus. Sarah. Jason. And two soldiers I barely knew—Davis and Ortega. Six of us. Enough to carry the battery, enough to fight, enough to watch each other's backs. On paper anyway.
The plan sounded easy in theory. West entrance. Reach the main chamber. Plug the core into the old system, wait, haul it back. That was the official version. None of us believed it would go that way.
Afterward, I walked with Marcus down the dim hallway. He finally broke the silence, his voice low.
"You think Holt already wrote us off?"
I shook my head. "No. If he thought that, he wouldn't have sent us."
Marcus kept walking, his leg still bouncing, the rhythm never stopping. "Or maybe he didn't have anyone else left to send."
That one landed harder than I wanted. I didn't answer.
Later that day we stood in the equipment room. The smell of oil and old gunpowder clung to the air. Sarah checked her rifle once, then twice, then a third time, her face flat but her hands restless. Jason buckled his vest and muttered about how he should have been a comedian, though his voice cracked when he said it. Davis and Ortega didn't speak at all. They moved like machines, slow and deliberate.
When Holt entered, everything froze. His presence had that effect. He scanned the room once, his face unreadable, then said only, "You leave at dawn. Rest while you can. Once you're inside the lab, the only way out is forward."
No speech. No encouragement. Just the truth.
That night, sleep refused to come. Every creak of the building sounded louder, like the base itself was awake and restless. I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, and all I could picture was the lab doors. I didn't even know their real shape anymore. In my head they were massive, black, breathing.
By dawn, exhaustion didn't matter. Adrenaline carried me.
We gathered at the gate, the battery sealed tight in its container. It gave off a faint hum, almost alive, like it was waiting too. The guards cranked open the outer doors, and the cold air rolled in. My stomach twisted, but my legs kept moving.
Outside, the city was worse than I remembered. Streets collapsed into each other. Buildings hunched over, broken like old bones. Every shadow seemed to move. Jason whispered a prayer under his breath. Sarah tightened her grip on her rifle, her jaw set.
We walked for hours. Broken cars lined the streets like skeletons. Windows gaped empty. Davis pointed at tracks in the dirt, too fresh for anyone's comfort. Ortega scanned rooftops every few steps, his eyes never resting. The deeper we went, the quieter the city grew, until even the wind seemed to vanish.
Then the lab appeared.
It rose from the ground like a dark block, walls cracked and burned but still holding, as if time itself hadn't dared to finish the job. The front doors were long gone, blown away. The opening yawned black, a mouth waiting to swallow us.
We stopped without meaning to. No one spoke. The smell of rust and ash clung to the air. The battery hummed louder, vibrating faintly, almost like it recognized home.
Marcus let out a short, shaky laugh. "Well. This is it."
No one laughed with him.
We shifted into formation. The container in the middle, rifles up, eyes forward. The closer we moved, the heavier the air grew, pressing down on our shoulders. For a second Sarah's eyes met mine. She didn't need to say anything. Her look carried the same weight I felt—fear braided with resolve.
The shadows inside shifted, or maybe my eyes just played tricks. Either way, the lab was waiting.
At the threshold, my chest tightened so hard it hurt. This was the line. Cross it, and the only way out was forward, just like Holt said.
Jason broke the silence, his voice dry. "So… who wants to go first?"
No one answered.
I stepped forward. The air inside was colder, sharp against my skin. My pulse hammered so hard I could barely hear anything else. Behind me, the others readied their weapons.
We were about to step into the dark, and there was no telling what waited.