The command center inside MOA was a hive of activity as the battle raged on against the zombies heading towards them. Rows of monitors glowed against the dim interior, displaying multiple live feeds from drones, security caras, and infrared scans of the city. Military personnel moved quickly, exchanging information, coordinating defenses, and monitoring the ongoing battle against the wave of undead.
In the middle of the room, Marcus stood with his arms crossed, his face tense with frustration.
Thomas—Eagle—had been missing. They had scoured the city using drones and satellite imaging, but their search had yielded nothing but more corpses and destruction.
Now, they were running out of ti.
The wave was nearly defeated.
The last remaining zombies were still being cut down at the defensive periter, and soon, Thomas' system would reactivate. But Marcus wasn't willing to leave his commander's survival to chance.
The silence was broken when one of the system officers suddenly sat up straight, his eyes widening.
"Sir!" The officer's fingers flew across his keyboard, zooming in on one of the live feeds. "We have movent!"
Marcus imdiately turned, stepping toward the workstation. "What kind of movent?"
The officer pointed at the screen. "A vehicle. It's weaving between the streets, avoiding wrecks and obstacles. And it's being chased by zombies."
Marcus leaned over the monitor, his gaze locking onto the live feed.
The MQ-8 Fire Scout, their reconnaissance drone, hovered thousands of feet above the city, its thermal caras tracking everything below.
On the screen, a single vehicle tore through the ruined streets of Manila.
A white SUV.
Zombies sprinted behind it, so clinging onto its sides, others attempting to leap onto its roof. It maneuvered between overturned trucks, burned-out cars, and debris-cluttered roads, navigating the obstacles with military-level precision.
Marcus' heart pounded.
"Zoom in!" he barked.
The officer complied, the screen enhancing the image.
A white Ford Territory.
Marcus' fingers curled into a fist. "That's not just any vehicle. That could be Eagle's."
The command center erupted into motion.
Officers crowded around the screen, their hushed conversations turning into hopeful murmurs.
After two days of nothing—this was the first real sign that Thomas might still be alive.
Adrian approached, his expression sharp. "Are you sure it's him?"
Marcus narrowed his eyes. "Who else could be driving like that in a war zone?"
The Ford swerved sharply, narrowly missing a collapsed electric pole. Two zombies lunged onto its side, pounding against the windows.
The driver accelerated—veering right at the last second—forcing the zombies to slam against a concrete barrier and tumble onto the road.
Marcus smirked. "Yeah, that's him."
Adrian exhaled, shaking his head. "Of course, he's still alive."
Marcus turned to the system officer. "Can we establish communication?"
The officer frowned, adjusting his headset. "Direct contact? Not easily."
Marcus scowled. "Explain."
The officer gestured to the drone's signal transmission system.
"We use encrypted radio frequencies to communicate with our drones," he explained. "But a civilian vehicle like that Ford? It doesn't have a built-in military receiver. There's no direct way to patch in."
Marcus crossed his arms. "There has to be a way."
The officer hesitated. "The only option would be open broadcasting. We could use the Fire Scout's external speaker to transmit a ssage at a general frequency."
"Would Thomas be able to hear it?" Adrian asked.
The officer shrugged. "If his car has a working radio, and it's tuned into the right frequency, he might. But that's a big if. Civilian radios don't always pick up military channels."
Marcus exhaled sharply. Too many uncertainties.
They needed a plan that guaranteed success.
He turned toward the digital map of Manila. "What's the fastest way to intercept them?"
The system officer pulled up the Ford's trajectory.
"It's heading west, toward Roxas Boulevard. If they keep this pace, they'll reach the MOA periter in approximately fifteen minutes."
Marcus thought for a mont.
Fifteen minutes was too long.
If Thomas' vehicle got blocked—if they got cornered—they might not survive.
He turned to Adrian.
"Get a strike team ready."
Adrian's expression darkened. "You want to send an extraction unit?"
Marcus nodded. "I'm not sitting here and hoping he makes it. We're going out there and bringing him back."
"But I'm going to remind you that we are still not sure that it is Eagle," Adrian countered. His voice was firm, though not defiant. He wasn't trying to argue—he was forcing Marcus to acknowledge the risk.
Marcus exhaled sharply. "I know."
Adrian studied him for a mont, his sharp gaze asuring the situation.
"This could be so random survivor," Adrian continued. "We need to be prepared for that."
Marcus ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. The stakes were high. If it wasn't Thomas, they would have wasted valuable ti and resources. But…
Marcus looked back at the monitor.
The white Ford Territory was still barreling through the streets, dodging debris, weaving through the maze of the undead with calculated precision. The way it moved wasn't random. Whoever was behind the wheel knew how to drive under pressure.
Marcus clenched his jaw. "It doesn't matter."
Adrian raised an eyebrow. "What do you an?"
"Even if that's not Eagle, we have a mission to save civilians whenever possible," Marcus said. "If there's a survivor out there who can drive like that, we bring them in. Best case scenario—it's Eagle. Worst case? We just saved soone who might contribute to his system."
Adrian took a deep breath before nodding. "Alright."
Marcus turned to one of the communications officers. "Patch through to the strike team prep bay."
The officer nodded and opened a direct line. "You're live, sir."
Marcus leaned toward the mic.
"Phillip."
A voice crackled through the speakers. "Been waiting for you to call my na, boss."
Marcus didn't waste ti. "We might have Eagle in a civilian vehicle, but we're not certain. Your job is to intercept and extract. If it's him, you bring him ho. If it's not, you secure the survivor and bring them in anyway."
There was a short silence before Phillip spoke again. "Copy that. I assu we're working with a moving target?"
Marcus nodded. "That's right. The white Ford Territory is heading west toward Roxas Boulevard. You'll need to move fast."
"Understood, boss. I'll get my team rolling."
Marcus cut the line and turned back to the system officer. "Keep tracking that vehicle, and relay its position to the strike team."
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