The Safe Zone - Ascension (Book 4)

Chapter 11: The Directive's Counterattack

Lena:

The world seemed quieter since we returned from the facility, but it was an unsettling kind of silence—the calm before the storm. I could feel the tension building like pressure in the air, waiting to erupt. We had destroyed the Directive's core facility but knew victory had only bought us time. The Directive would come for us—soon and with a vengeance.

I sat on the edge of a makeshift platform in the resistance camp, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The wind was cold, biting my skin as if it knew something was coming. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but rest wasn't an option. Not after what we had been through, not after Carter's death.

I hadn't had time to process the loss—not entirely. I'd pushed it to the back of my mind, buried it beneath layers of duty and responsibility. But every so often, the grief bubbled to the surface, threatening to overwhelm me. I missed him. I missed his steady presence and his unwavering support. He'd kept us grounded when everything was falling apart, and now that he was gone, I felt like I was drifting, untethered.

Ethan sat beside me, his legs stretched, his hands resting on his knees. He hadn't said much since we returned from the mission, and I could see the weight of it all pressing down on him. He'd been through so much, endured so many horrors at the hands of the Directive, and now, he was back on the front lines, fighting a war that seemed impossible to win.

"Any sign of them?" Zara's voice cut through the stillness as she approached, her footsteps barely audible on the dirt. Like the rest of us, she was tense, her eyes constantly scanning the camp, her fingers twitching toward the rifle slung over her shoulder.

"Not yet," I replied, my voice flat. "But they'll come. It's only a matter of time."

She nodded, her expression grim. "They'll hit us hard. We need to be ready."

I glanced around the camp, taking in the makeshift fortifications we'd thrown together in the past few days. Barricades made of scrap metal and old wooden crates lined the perimeter, and resistance fighters moved among them, their faces drawn and weary. We were a small, ragtag group—barely more than a handful of survivors—and we were up against a force far larger, far more organized. But we had no choice. We had to fight.

"How are the others holding up?" I asked, turning to Zara.

"They're scared," she admitted, her voice low. "We've lost a lot of good people, and they know what's coming. Morale is low."

I nodded, feeling the same sense of dread settle over me. The destruction of the Directive's core facility had been a significant blow, but it hadn't been enough to cripple them. We had slowed them down, but we hadn't stopped them. And now, we were paying the price.

Ethan shifted beside me, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the horizon. "Do you hear that?"

I tensed, listening. At first, I heard nothing but the wind. Then, faintly, I caught it—a low, distant hum, like engines approaching. My heart skipped a beat, and I stood up, my muscles tensing with anticipation.

"They're coming," Ethan said, his voice tight.

I grabbed my rifle, my hands shaking as I adjusted the strap. My mind raced, running through our defenses, escape routes, and everything we had planned in case of an attack. But nothing felt solid. We weren't ready. We weren't prepared for what was coming.

Zara barked orders to the others, her voice sharp and commanding. Fighters scrambled to their positions, crouching behind the barricades, their weapons ready. I could see the fear and uncertainty in their eyes. They were soldiers, yes, but they were also human. And they knew, just as I did, that this fight could be their last.