Rebecca straightened her posture as she received Thomas's orders. Her icy blue eyes flickered with determination as she acknowledged his command with a firm nod.
"Understood," she replied.
There was no room for hesitation. The battlefield wasn't just out there at the bridges—it was here as well. If they lost control of the civilian population when the horde arrived, they would be fighting a war on two fronts. That was unacceptable.
Rebecca turned on her radio.
"All security units, this is Langley. Priority One Order from Command—effective imdiately, all non-essential personnel and civilians are to be relocated to the SMX Convention Center. This is not optional. Begin evacuation procedures now."
A chorus of acknowledgnts crackled through the comms.
She turned to her adjutant. "Get the PA system ready. Every building in the MOA Complex needs to hear this. If there are stragglers, I want them moved—whether they like it or not."
"Yes, ma'am!" he hurried to the communications hub.
Rebecca took a deep breath and activated the intercom system that connected to every building under their control.
A high-pitched chi rang through every speaker in the MOA Complex, signaling an urgent announcent.
"Attention all civilians and non-essential personnel.
By direct order of Command, you are to imdiately evacuate your current location and proceed to the SMX Convention Center. This is a mandatory relocation for your safety. Any resistance or refusal to comply will be considered obstruction and dealt with accordingly. Security teams are en route to assist with relocation. Move imdiately.
This is not a drill. I repeat, proceed to the SMX Convention Center now."
The ssage repeated on a loop, the chi ringing between each transmission.
***
Samantha Garcia had barely laid down in her assigned bed when the announcent blared through the room's speakers.
Her eyes snapped open, heart pounding.
She pushed herself up from the mattress, listening carefully. The ssage repeated itself again, the words sending a chilling sense of urgency through her body.
An evacuation order?
She glanced out the window of her high-rise suite. Below, the streets of the MOA Complex were already filled with movent. Soldiers in full combat gear patrolled with firm, controlled urgency, herding survivors toward the SMX Convention Center.
The tension in the air was palpable.
Sothing big was about to happen.
Samantha quickly grabbed her backpack that she found in the room and that was filled with essentials, biscuits and water, and stepped out into the hallway, where a growing crowd of confused civilians had begun to gather outside their rooms.
"What's going on?" a middle-aged man in tattered office attire muttered.
"Why are they moving us now?" another woman asked nervously.
"Are the zombies coming?"
Then, the sound of approaching boots echoed through the hallway.
A team of four heavily ard security personnel moved through the corridor, rifles at the ready. Their faces were unreadable beneath their combat helts and tinted visors.
"Move," the lead soldier ordered. His voice was firm but emotionless. "Everyone to the SMX Convention Center, now. No exceptions."
A few people hesitated.
"But why? What's happening?" an older man questioned.
The soldier didn't answer. Instead, he simply raised his rifle slightly, not in an outright threat—but as a warning.
"You don't have ti for questions. Move or be moved."
Samantha shivered.
She had seen soldiers before, but these ones felt different. There was no hesitation in their movents, no uncertainty in their tone. They knew sothing the civilians didn't.
That scared her.
She fell in line with the crowd, herding toward the lobby of the building. Outside, military trucks and armored vehicles lined the streets, ready to transport those who couldn't move fast enough.
The entire MOA Complex was mobilizing.
But as things progressed, chaos were brewing.
The Shore Residence, Tower A, which housed over 2,000 civilians, was in an uproar. People rushed out of their studio apartnts, carrying bags filled with what little possessions they had left.
Tension ran high.
"Where are they taking us?" soone yelled.
"Why now?!"
A mother clutched her crying child as she struggled to move through the panicked crowd.
"Everyone, calm down!" a security officer bellowed. "The SMX Convention Center is more secure! We need to move you now!"
It was a half-truth.
The real reason?
When the wave arrived, anyone outside of the secured zones would be left behind.
Rebecca watched from the command center, onitoring the evacuation through the tactical drone feeds displayed on her tablet.
She tapped her earpiece.
"Status on evac?"
A voice replied through the radio.
"Shore Residences is at 70% evacuated. So civilians are refusing to leave. Do we force them?"
Rebecca's expression hardened.
"Give them one final warning. If they resist after that, leave them. That should scare them."
"Understood."
Rebecca sighed, rubbing her temple.
***
In the SMX Convention Center had already been transford into a massive refugee shelter. Rows of cots and makeshift tents filled the large hall, and hundreds of people were being processed as they entered.
dical teams checked for injuries.
Logistics officers handed out ration cards.
Ard guards patrolled the periter, making it clear that this was no ordinary shelter—it was a controlled zone.
Samantha stepped inside, still clutching her backpack. She was imdiately processed by a soldier at the entrance.
"Na?"
"Samantha Garcia," she replied.
The soldier scanned her ID, nodded, and gestured for her to enter.
As she walked past the security checkpoint, she caught sight of hundreds of civilians settling into the shelter.
So looked relieved.
Others looked terrified.
Then, her eyes landed on a large digital screen mounted at the front of the hall.
It displayed a countdown tir.
00:35:12
Her heart skipped a beat.
"What the hell is that?" she muttered. She asked one of the soldiers nearby about the tir.
The soldier—his face hidden behind a tactical helt and dark visor—barely moved. He didn't even look at her.
Instead, he turned away and resud his patrol.
"Hey!" Samantha called after him, stepping forward. "I asked you a question! What's the countdown for?"
No response.
She clenched her fists.
Why wasn't anyone answering?
Around her, the other civilians had also noticed the tir. A murmur rippled through the crowd, hushed voices whispering theories, growing more anxious by the second.
"Thirty-five minutes? Until what?"
"They're not telling us anything."
"Maybe it's a supply drop countdown?"
"Or a lockdown…"
Samantha's stomach churned.
A lockdown?
That would an no one was getting in or out once that tir hit zero.
Her eyes flickered to the security personnel stationed throughout the shelter. Every single one of them was ard and on edge. Unlike the usual military presence she'd seen before, these soldiers weren't standing at ease.
They were ready for combat.
Samantha didn't like this.
***
Rebecca watched the evacuation unfold through the cara feeds on her tablet. The civilians were finally settling in, but tension hung thick in the air.
She didn't bla them.
The countdown was a psychological tool. Fear kept people in line. The less the survivors knew, the less likely they were to panic. If they truly understood what was coming, chaos would erupt.
"Status?" she asked.
A nearby officer replied, "Ninety-two percent of all civilians are inside SMX Convention Center. So stragglers still being rounded up."
"Anyone resisting?"
"Only a handful."
"Good."
She turned to Thomas, who was standing at the center of the command room, staring at the large digital countdown displayed on the tactical map.
Thirty-two minutes left.
"Everything's in place," Rebecca inford him.
Thomas nodded.
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