Chapter 95: Where Are The Supplies?
The military convoy didn’t slow down until the gates of the closest compound came into view.
High fencing reinforced with steel plating wrapped around the perimeter, layered in sections that had been welded into place in a hurry but held firm under pressure. Watchtowers stood at measured intervals, each one manned with an automatic rifle, each one actively searching for threats.
Mounted lights tracked movement across the outer line, while rotating surveillance units swept in overlapping patterns that left no blind spots large enough to exploit.
Just seeing it, Commander Li finally let out the breath that he had been holding.
He leaned forward slightly in his seat as the lead vehicle aligned with the checkpoint. His gaze moved along the perimeter automatically, tracking positions, noting posture, confirming readiness. Nothing was out of place. There was no visible strain in the rotation. Not a single sign of forced response.
The gate opened on schedule.
The convoy moved through.
Vehicles passed one at a time through the controlled entry point, guided into position by ground personnel already in place. Soldiers stepped forward as soon as the trucks came to a stop, hands already moving to assist survivors out of the transport beds. Orders were given quickly and followed without hesitation. Water was passed out. Injuries were checked. Names were taken.
Routine.
Efficient.
Contained.
Li stepped out of the vehicle as soon as it came to a stop, boots hitting packed ground with a solid thud. He didn’t look toward the survivors. He didn’t need to. That phase of the operation had been handed off the moment they crossed the gate.
His attention shifted immediately to the supply trucks.
Canvas covers remained secured.
Tie-downs intact.
No visible disturbance.
"Unload and log everything," he ordered as he moved past the first vehicle. "Full inventory before redistribution."
"Yes, sir."
The response came without delay. A team broke off immediately, two soldiers climbing onto the back of the nearest truck while another moved to secure the ladder. The canvas was pulled back in a single motion, exposing the interior.
Li continued walking.
He had seen enough runs to know what should be there. Crates stacked along both sides. Rations organized by type. Water secured toward the center. Medical kits sealed and separated. Everything accounted for before it ever left the original site.
He moved to the second truck, his pace steady, his attention already shifting ahead.
Behind him, the first team stopped moving.
It wasn’t sudden.
It wasn’t loud.
It was one of those cases where it was the absence of everything that stood out.
Li slowed before he came to a stop. "Report," he said.
But there was no response.
Li’s eyes narrowed as he turned back toward the convoy.
The soldier at the back of the first truck stood on the ladder, one hand gripping the frame, the other resting against the pulled-back canvas. His posture had gone rigid, his attention fixed inside the vehicle.
"Report," Li repeated.
The soldier swallowed.
"It’s..." he started, then stopped again.
Li closed the distance in three measured strides and stepped up to the back of the truck. He didn’t rush. He didn’t need to.
He looked inside.
It was completely empty.
The metal floor stretched from one end to the other, clean enough to reflect the overhead lighting in dull, uneven lines. There wasn’t a single crate. No containers, no straps left loose, and no broken seals.
There was absolutely nothing.
Li didn’t move immediately. He let the image settle, cataloging every detail, every absence before he stepped back.
"Check the others," he grunted already moving.
The second truck was already being opened.
"Sir—"
Li pulled himself up to look inside. It was the same result as the first.
Completely empty.
The third.
Still empty.
Each confirmation came faster than the last, soldiers moving with increased urgency, pulling back canvas, climbing inside, checking corners that had nothing in them.
No supplies.
No debris.
No evidence of removal.
Li stood still, his attention fixed on the open backs of the trucks as the reports layered over each other.
"Time since departure?" he asked.
"Twenty-three minutes, sir," Chen answered.
"Route deviation?"
"No, sir."
"Stops?"
"No, sir."
"External contact?"
"No, sir."
Li nodded once.
"Seal integrity?"
"Intact, sir."
"Confirm."
Two soldiers moved immediately, checking the tie-down points, the locking mechanisms, the canvas fastenings. Hands ran along edges, testing for tampering, for loosened tension, for anything that would suggest interference.
Nothing.
"Interior disturbance?"
"No signs, sir."
Li stepped forward again, placing one hand against the edge of the truck as he leaned in slightly. His eyes tracked along the interior walls, the floor, the corners where residue would have collected if anything had been removed in haste.
There was none.
The space hadn’t been cleared.
It had been emptied.
Cleanly.
Completely.
He stepped back again.
"Who had access?" he asked.
"Assigned personnel only, sir."
"List them."
Chen turned immediately, calling for identification logs and assignment records. Names were pulled, checked, cross-referenced against duty positions. Soldiers began reporting in, one by one, confirming where they had been stationed during transit, who had been on rotation, who had maintained proximity to the vehicles.
Every answer lined up.
Every position accounted for.
There was no gaps. No overlap. No opportunity for someone to take the supplies.
Li didn’t interrupt.
He let the process run.
Let them confirm what he already knew.
Then he shifted his attention outward, scanning the compound again.
The survivors had already been moved deeper into processing. The yard had cleared. The vehicles sat where they had been directed, engines now silent, their presence reduced to static objects within the larger operation.
Everything was in place.
Everything was functioning.
Everything was correct.
Except the trucks.
"...Sir?"
Li didn’t look at the soldier who spoke.
He kept his gaze forward, his expression unchanged.
"Run it again," he said.
"Yes, sir."
The teams moved.
Again.
Covers pulled back.
Interiors checked.
Corners inspected.
Nothing changed.
Li exhaled once, slow and controlled.
"Secure the vehicles," he said. "No one approaches without authorization. Full audit. No assumptions."
"Yes, sir."
The tone shifted slightly now. Not louder. Not sharper.
More precise.
The soldiers responded in kind, movements tightening, spacing adjusting, attention narrowing as the situation moved from routine to controlled anomaly.
Li turned away from the trucks.
"Prepare a return team," he added as he began walking toward the command structure. "Same unit. Same route."
"Yes, sir."
He didn’t slow.
Didn’t look back.
The supplies had been there.
They had been loaded, secured, and transported under armed escort from a cleared structure to a fortified compound.
And somewhere between those two points—
They had been removed without interruption, without detection, and without leaving a trace.
Li stepped into the command tent and reached for the map already laid out across the central table.
"Prepare a team. We’re going back," he said. "We need to find those supplies."
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