The Will To Live✔️

Chapter 33: Next Objective

Greg awoke to someone banging on his door.

His eyes were open and he was up, with the pistol he kept on the bedside table in his hand, safety flicked off, in a few seconds.

"What?!" he called.

"Gibson's on the horn," Ellis called back, her voice muffled through the metal.

Greg sighed and put the pistol back down after reactivating the safety. He blinked a few times. "Okay, thanks," he managed.

He heard retreating footsteps and looked over at Izzy, who was sitting up in the bed, the blanket having fallen away from her bare torso. He became momentarily distracted by that particular sight, then shook his head and hunted down his helmet. Greg had finally pulled rank and taken the largest of the five bedrooms, the one meant for the outpost commander. Given he was the outpost commander, plus he was going to share it with Izzy.

Last night had gone well. After a pleasant meal, they'd spent some more time straightening up the base, setting up an armory, and washing every last bit of cloth in the machines available. In the end, Greg had ultimately decided nightwatch would be split between himself, Coretti, and Larsen. He took the first two hour shift, then Larsen took three hours, then Coretti took the last three. Laney had argued, briefly, but Greg said he wanted the man ready for something bigger that might be coming up today. It was just a feeling he'd had.

As he found his helmet and pulled it on, activating his radio, he figured he might be right. Greg keyed into the communications stream. "This is Walker, over."

"Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, Sergeant, but I've finally got a damned lead. On two fronts. First and foremost: a small fleet of Carrier Warthogs are headed your way right now with some supplies and to collect all the dead. Several of the specimens and the KIA personnel. So make sure that's ready for pickup. Second: we got some Pelicans working and I managed to get my hands on one."

"How the hell'd you manage that?" Greg asked.

Gibson laughed, and it sounded a little bitter. "I'm going to level with you Walker: It's dangerous as hell. At the moment, the main thing keeping these Pelicans in the air is faith. That's the only reason they gave one to me, because they're so unstable. Theoretically they should be able to get the job done. I found a pilot who's willing to take the risk."

"Oh...great."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I wouldn't risk it, but I've finally tracked down one of the scientists I've been hunting for. He's a biologist. His name is Doctor Ishii Yamazaki. He's very good at what he does. He's managed to get himself to a cannery out in the middle of nowhere and got a distress call off. That was two hours ago. I want you and three of your best people loaded up and ready for that Pelican within the next thirty minutes. Understand?"

"Understood. We'll get him."

"Good. The pilot will know what to do. Just get him and bring him back to your outpost. Update him on the situation. If I know Yamazaki, he'll leap at the chance. Though he will bitch about the rudimentary setup."

"Good to know," Greg murmured, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah. Good luck. I have more work to do here. Out."

The link was cut. Greg sighed and pulled his helmet off.

"What now?" Izzy asked.

"We have to get ready. I'll tell you in the shower," he replied.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Greg stood in front of the outpost with Izzy, Ellis, and Laney.

All four of them had paid trips to the communal bathroom, had quick showers, and scarfed down some breakfast before pulling on their armor and grabbing some guns and ammo. He'd briefed them all on the small amount of intel available and, after some consideration, put Larsen in charge of the outpost. Mainly on the grounds that Rydell seemed to not want the job and he was most familiar with Larsen. Now, he watched a small fleet of half a dozen Carrier Warthogs coming down the road he himself had first driven down not all that long ago.