The moonlight struggled through thick gray clouds above the northwestern industrial sector.
Boots thudded softly on the concrete, slow and measured.
Four infantry squads rotated through the interior night patrol.
They paused at each corner and intersection, scanning the shadows. If anything emerged from the darkness, they were ready—be it friend or foe.
One of the soldiers looked toward the center of a large compound; near the old operations tower, the doors have been reinforced; the entrances secured.
A single squad of infantry guarded from the outside. Even a sandbag emplacement has been constructed; the Machine Gunner taking the time of his life yawning at the sides.
A cold draft swept past them, chilling their bones.
Atop the tower stood Hans, overlooking the deployment area. Its narrow windows caught vision of the entire area.
Before the outbreak, supervisors likely used this room to monitor shipments, crane operations, and truck traffic.
