Brad Zaxxon's Arc

Chapter 9 of 9

The shelling ended three days ago. The ghoul raiders were scattered, their camp broken. Now Brad called his team to the garage table to take stock. He wanted a clear count before anyone moved again. The trade post he was building needed solid ground, not loose ends. He spread the field maps flat and waited for his people to report. Sarah came first, sliding a battered page across the table. Her fingers tapped the margin as she talked. "Vault medical's holding," she said. "Radiation cleanup on level three is done. We salvaged enough supplies to cover the hospital for weeks. Mutant tissue's logged. The F.E.V. samples are sealed and stable." She paused, then dropped her voice. "That's the part that keeps me up. We're sitting on experiment leftovers nobody should've made. But they're contained. For now." She tapped twice more and sat back. Donovan went next, grinning before he spoke. "Oh man, the network's live and clean. Three nodes talking, no drop." He laid down his own worn report, covered in his cramped notes. "But look here. I tracked two more broadcaster towers. One near a place marked Denver. One near Sparks." He jabbed the circled names. "If they still transmit, we could stretch the network way past what we've got. That's a prize. Also a reach." Fredrick spoke last. He set his after-action reports down in a neat stack, squared to the table edge. "Wreck site's cleared. Three patrol vehicles secured. No casualties." He stopped. Brad waited, knowing he would say more only if pushed. Fredrick added one line. "Scattered survivors are forming small gangs. They'll test the roads." Then he went quiet. Brad studied the three reports side by side. Medical secure. Network growing. Salvage done. Every piece pointed the same way. The war part was ending. The trade part could finally start. But one thing still sat open, and it bothered him. "We're not finished," Brad said. "The old ghoul camp is still standing out there. Supplies, cover, maybe more of those mutation samples. If we leave it, the new gangs move in and use it against us." He pressed a finger to the map. "We clean it out. Strip anything useful, burn the rest. I want it gone before any bandit calls it home." Sarah frowned. "Same mutation source we keep hitting. If there's tissue there, I want it bagged, not burned." "Then you ride along," Brad said. "Fredrick runs security. Donovan, you stay on the towers." He looked at each of them. "This closes the fighting chapter. After the camp, we build." Fredrick nodded once. Donovan was already folding his report into his pack, half his mind on Denver and Sparks. Sarah capped her pen and stood. The decision was made. The last raider ground would fall, and the road to the trade post ran straight through it.