The midday weather was pleasant, the sky was slightly blue, and although the sun wasn't visible, it was still a bright day.
This time, Carlos was the one driving, but Alan stayed in the front passenger seat of the lead truck, holding his FN M249 SAW, ready to unleash fire on anyone who tried to stop them.
What had happened in the city suburbs was no longer a problem on the highway—here, the cars no longer blocked the road. Occasionally, there were overturned and abandoned vehicles, but the path was still relatively clear.
The buildings in this area were very low, and there were also a few abandoned farms.
This once vibrant place was now filled with scattered debris, and the airflow created by the moving vehicles stirred up dust around them. Alan and his team also spotted some stray cats appearing on the walls.
Most of them—at least the smarter ones—had been taken in by the group.
The convoy kept moving and eventually turned onto a regular national highway. A road sign clearly indicated that Carisbad was 30 kilometers away.
Yes, they were all heading to the Carisbad power plant, which would become their new base of operations.
As they continued, more and more vehicles appeared along the national road, and they also noticed many infected wandering along the roadside.
As the trucks advanced, the infected slowly began moving onto the road in their direction.
"Wait, stop, stop now!" Carlos hit the brakes as Alan shouted urgently.
Carlos looked at Alan, confused, but Alan got out of the truck without saying a word. Before Carlos could even ask, a voice came over the radio:
"Get ready. We might be walking into an ambush."
Within moments, those with military experience deployed and began giving tactical instructions to the others.
"Zz... Alan, what do you see?" Tommy, in the last truck, couldn't make anything out.
But in front of Alan was a row of abandoned military vehicles.
The most alarming thing was that all of them—three M1114 Humvees—still had their mounted machine guns intact. There was also a cargo truck that was clearly part of the same convoy.
Compared to the Humvees, the truck looked severely damaged. Blood stains were visible inside, along with what appeared to be bullet holes.
Alan immediately recognized the models and had a good idea of what had probably happened.
The area within fifty meters was littered with Stalker corpses. External fixtures like mirrors and antennas had been damaged, windows were shattered, and the cabin was covered in broken glass.
Tommy and Joel moved to Alan's sides, maintaining a perimeter and taking cover in case of an attack.
"Were they surrounded by infected?"
Alan looked around. In addition to the obvious military corpses, some soldiers had clearly escaped, and he replied, "They're Rangers. They're not dead."
Alan had a bad feeling. Right after that, a bullet whizzed past his head and struck the truck's body.
Bang!
"Sniper!"
Everyone took cover—Alan too, who had been silent ever since he realized these soldiers were Rangers.
"Did you locate the source of the shot?" Joel took the safety off his rifle and looked at his brother Tommy, who was aiming his sniper rifle at a nearby hill.
"Don't shoot, wait." But before they could counterattack, Alan stopped them and spoke into the radio, using the frequency typically used by the military:
"This is Captain Alan Rogers, Special Forces. Does anyone copy?"
"Zz…"
"How do we know they're not FEDRA?" Joel was tense. He knew there was a difference, but he didn't want to take any risks.
"They're in the bushes, but I don't think they're a threat." Alan stood up, walked a few steps toward the bushes off the road, and shouted loudly:
"I'm Alan Rogers, Special Forces Captain. You can come out."
At that moment, the bushes rustled and several soldiers in green military uniforms emerged with their weapons pointed at the ground. One of them stepped forward and quickly said:
"Captain, we've been looking for you!"
Alan looked around and said, "Looks like you ran into some trouble."
"That's a long story…" The soldier didn't want to say much—not out here—so he added, "We've got a camp nearby. Would you like to come with us?"
"First, I want you to answer one question—are you with FEDRA?" Alan's calm voice turned cold in an instant. The soldiers looked at each other and broke into a cold sweat. One of them suddenly said:
"Screw FEDRA."
"Silence, soldier." The older soldier who had spoken with Alan hushed the younger one and said:
"My name is Chad Kaplan, Corporal of the Rangers. Our mission was to find Captain Rogers. The commander needs you… And no, we are not with FEDRA."
Alan held his stance for a moment, then relaxed his grip on his machine gun. After confirming Kaplan wasn't lying, he sighed in relief and handed his weapon to Joel, who was still behind cover.
"All right, they're allies." After saying this, Alan walked up to the soldier and ordered:
"Tommy, come with me. The rest of you, rest and secure the vehicles."
"Understood!"
Kaplan looked at Alan's group and said, "You've got a good team. Were they all on the last front line?"
Alan, who didn't know exactly how the war with the virus had unfolded, replied:
"Some are military, some are police, and a few are just regular survivors."
"Impressive. Looks like you trained them well."
"Take me to your sergeant." Alan cut the conversation short and, along with Tommy, followed the soldiers to their camp—where they would soon learn the rest of the story.