The Last City

Chapter 2

USTA H.Q., El Tevado Rocca, 12:02 A.M.

First Officer Soho Gavison was just two minutes deep in his sleep when his phone rang. He picked up and saw a mail from central HQ calling every USTA soldier into the Great Hall. What is it this time? He thought as he slipped out of his bed.

The Undead Security and Tactics Alliance or USTA for short was an organization founded by the republicans. Their main purpose was to combat, prevent, and find ways to exterminate the undeads thus claiming the rest of the world back from the clutches of these ruthless creatures. One of their duties was to track down undead behaviors by leaving the walled country of Exodus. Through these excursions, they would risk getting into close contacts with the undeads just to capture and study potential weaknesses that they could use to fight back.

The USTA have advanced technology and a number of skilled personnel in their ranks. There were branches stationed within the six republican districts in the outer walls. The USTA headquarters is located in El Tevado Rocca, the second republican district in the middle wall in which only housed those who had proven to be assets in terms of combat skills and academic expertise.

Soho had just come back from one of the recent excursions to New York that lasted for four days. Usually, two teams would be deployed and fly out of Exodus during the day; using the vulnerability of the undead to sunlight as the main weapon to be able to roam safely. It had been discovered that direct hit of sunlight was fatal to the undeads, burning their hardened skins and turning them to ashes in just a matter of seconds. Furthermore, just before the break of dawn the undeads would retreat into dark recesses of buildings, caves and even underground openings to hibernate and wake up the moment the sun sets.

His team was able to corner a mutated undead that stood three feet taller than the usual mobs just as the sun was about to rise. They call this kind of species the Leader. They discovered that three to four undeads would normally team up with one leader. The leader was stronger physically, and seemed to posses heightened intelligence which it uses to command the lesser mobs.

They went on with the investigation all throughout the day and retreated back into their gigantic jets that would just hover around for the rest of the night.

Tonight however, his instincts told him that something had gone wrong. Soho hesitantly crossed his Spartan room towards the double-door wardrobe. The room was plain, a military bed propped up in one corner, a desk and one chair beside it and the wardrobe that housed his USTA uniforms.

Without wasting any more time, Soho stripped naked before opening the steel wardrobe. Soho found himself staring at an athletic man in his late twenties. He was a dazzling vision of six feet, and very much lean without any trace of fats.

He smirked the moment his eyes dropped on the scar that crossed over his muscular chest. How could he forget that day he had earned it. He was fourteen then and the world had never agreed with him. Being the only scrawny kid in a military family, he was never new to criticism and bullying. One rainy evening, on his way back to the male quarters a group of four brawny guys blocked his path and demanded him to steal meat from the pantry. Minutes later he was lying on the floor, the taste of rust and salt dominating his busted mouth. His hands cupped over his chest which was torn open by the metal whip one of them was holding.

On that very day he was reborn. He embraced rigid training, and found out how his body was slowly getting right for it. Guys who would have pulverized him in the battlefield were just on their second push-ups while he was already at his tenth. After two years, he had been promoted as junior cadet. From then on he was climbing the ranking ladder yearly.

The moment he reached his early twenties, female cadets and officers swoon at just the simple sight of him passing by the USTA halls. Ladies and even some discreet men would send him proposals but only to find frustration at the end of the day.

The sound of his phone ringing again reminded him of the urgency of the meeting. With one swift motion he wore one of his white shirts that slid effortlessly through his perfectly chiseled biceps and broad shoulders. He hurriedly wore piece after piece of his nave blue uniform until he finally secured the last strap of his black leather boots.

He recklessly combed his spiky purple black hair with his fingers backwards revealing that significant bloody red iris in his reflection. It was his eyes that stood him apart from the rest of his comrades. They call it the eyes that could pass judgment. Apathy was his second nature and that had never left his gaze.

Minutes later, he was rallying with the rest into the great hall which was almost filled with anxious looking soldiers.

The Captain had arrived as everyone went still. Captain Ferroch was a man of his age. The stern look on his face gave out the impression of no mercy and the statuesque posture of his body meant business. His graying hair well kept over half shaved sides.

The moment Captain Ferroch climbed on stage and assembled himself behind the podium, Soho knew that it never meant anything good for the night.

Captain Ferroch began his speech with an announcement that the southern walls of Sierra had been compromised by a power failure thus rendering the whole city powerless.

“Impossible,” said one of the generals in the front row. “Constant supply of electromagnetic energy is what keeps our walls up. This energy would exist as long as there is earth beneath our feet for geothermal energy is the raw material of our walls and power supplies.”

“This could only mean two things,” General Cortes stood up from the front row. “First is that Sierra Watchtower had been compromised. Someone from the inside must have flipped the geothermal conversion switch off – the cause of the power outage. Second is if not acted upon immediately we might lose Sierra to the undeads forever and exposing our city to any possible attacks from these creatures.”

There was a series of whispers erupting from all over the Great Hall as every head turned in panic. Arguments were being brought up and considered. Somewhere in the crowd, Soho stood up and made for the exit at the far end of the Great Hall.

Just as Captain Ferroch had feared, he spotted Soho leaving the Great Hall in haste, a strange look of morbidity flashing over his red eyes. May you find what you are looking for and return safely for our sake child. Captain Ferroch thought. The world cannot lose you – not this time.