Don't look back, that's not where you're going.

Chapter 20: Day Walker

"Hold it!"
Exactly the reaction Zoey was waiting for.

She simply stopped. It was a good enough sign that the two patrols did not shoot her on sight.

"I'm not looking for trouble." For the briefest of moment she thought about projecting a more girly voice to lower suspicion, but the grime and scars ingrained into her skin did not match it too well.

"Then what are you looking for?" The soldiers still held their guns quite firmly, but weren't pointing it at her. There was a chance she could distract them, but even in hand-to-hand combat it would still be highly disadvantageous.

"Shelter."

"Do you have anyone with you?" The patrol seemed to be buying it. Zoey tried her best not to look back at this moment.

"I did, but we got swarmed." It was the most believable, though unoriginal, story ever. "I don't know if anyone else made it."

"This place is fairly far off the mainland." Zoey narrowed her eyes. This could very possibly be trouble soon. "How did you even get here?"

"By being fast, and having a lot of luck." It was very close to the truth.

It was easy to tell they weren't trusting her so easily. However, they were also clearly not interested in just shooting her. One pulled to the side for a radio call, while the other kept watch.

The check-up was fairly fast.

"Do you have weapons?" The guard half-heartedly raised his rifle.

"Not anymore." It was not going to be that easy, of course. She was still searched quite thoroughly, if not too much.

The other guard finished his call, and motioned for Zoey to be taken in. She stepped forward, only to be handcuffed and led inside the compound.

Passing the mental gate, she found herself inside the military base. Her father used to be one, and would tell her about common procedures and regulations, in hope of one day she'd follow in his footsteps. Zoey would never do something like that, but the knowledge will surely come in handy very soon.

As she was heading through the yard, she could imagine a lot had changed. She had no idea of the historical significance of such a remote place, but it didn't seem very secure, even for a fort. In fact, it looked unfinished in places, and perhaps that was why it was so easy to take over once the rummaging for supplies began. The parade ground still seemed useable, but it hadn't even looked worn at all. Perhaps this was not a completed facility. Several medium-sized trees also seemed to have been cut to logs in an attempt to fuel all the happenings. There were soldiers everywhere, but not to a large density. From their lined jackets and side helmets, these people seemed to be part of a special operation forces, most probably the Navy Seals.

She was soon stopped.

"Captain Washington, sir." The patrol guiding her broke into a navy salute. It was obvious enough at this point. "This is the refugee we've informed you of."

"I see." Captain Washington was a man of form, if nothing else. The man had biceps the size of faces, and it only added to his un-humoured demeanour. If anything, it confirmed Zoey's suspicion that there was no way she would be fighting her way out. "Get back to your post, Lieutenant, I'll take it from here."

"Yes, sir!"

As soon as the patrol left, Zoey felt a back-breaking force gripped at her arms and pulled her forward. The Captain was not rushing, but he simple had no regards for formalities. He practically dragged her away into the inner walls. There, in front of what looked like a hastily-made prison facility, she was let go. If her dad's stories had taught her anything, it would be to keep quiet unless addressed.

"Name."

"Zoey."

It was still a begrudging conversation regardless, considering he was a high commanding officer of the US Navy Seals, and she was just a civilian.

"Last name."

"You're not getting it."

"Fine." The Captain didn't seem to enjoy the openly defiant, but was regardless uninterested. It didn't matter to him, at the end of the day. "Less to write on your gravestone."

"Are you threatening me?" She made an effort to make her question sound as inoffensive as possible. While it was demeaning being talking down to, it was better that than being dead. There were people waiting for her. "Sir?"

"Sir?" Her handling of rankings obviously got him interested. He wanted to confirm his predictions. "You don't seem to be too fazed."

"I've had my fill of the world." A pause. "Sir."

"We don't kill people here, Ms. Zoey." Perhaps the mannerism had reminded him of protocol, if only somewhat. "You're a refugee. Like all refugee before you, you are given a limited amount of supplies to live on. We are not, however, responsible for your proper lodgings or personal attentiveness."

"That means you're throwing me in a prison cell with a piece of bread."

"Think of it what you will." Washington didn't hold back. He looked like he had seen it all, and heard all that could be said of him. "We at SEAL Team 7 are situated to hold this fortification, and we cannot jeopardise this mission."

"SEAL Team 7?" Zoey knew that they belong to the Naval Special Warfare Group 1, but they were usually situated somewhere higher up North. "What are you doing here in Florida?"

"Higher orders." It was the first sign Zoey had heard of a functioning upper government. Her last run-in with the military in Millhaven allowed her to know that it was cut off from high command. It was still unclear how much of the government remained operational, but this was at least a sign. Whether or not it was a good one, however, were yet to be seen. "Now, please follow me to your cell."

She moved voluntarily, instead of waiting around to be dragged away. It was less humiliating, also allow her to keep a look out on her own terms. It seemed that this place truly was not built properly, as the stairs seemed to barely hold itself together. Deeper into the underground, she found holding cells similar to that of old civil war times. There were no chains nor rotting bars, but it was definitely not standard ones. At least they hadn't been in a long time.

"Lieutenant." The guard reacted immediately to the orders. "New refugee. Make sure she causes no trouble."

"Yes, Captain."

Zoey soon found herself locked inside a darker cage. From what she'd seen, there weren't many other 'refugees' within the immediate vicinity, but there were still some. None of them looked particularly lively, though that was to be expected. It appeared that Captain Washington's words yet hold true, as all of them were still alive, albeit not by much.

After the guard assured that she was not getting out, the Captain approached with some rations.

"This is your daily portion." It wasn't much. When she mentioned bread before, perhaps it had given him too literal an idea. "You'll most likely not see me again."

"How long do you plan to keep me in here?" Taking the food cautiously, she inspected it with utmost attention. "What if I wanted to leave?"

"You handed us your rights the moment you were a refugee." The Captain was a patient still. "Do not worry, citizen. You will be freed immediately after the country had been secured."

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

"No." He displayed a half-mocking salute in front of her cell, then left. "Welcome to Fort Jefferson, enjoy your stay."

…

"It's been far too long." Francis was not enjoying any of this. Not only was waiting one of his least favourite past-time, the fact that one of his friend was in possible danger tipped him off. "How long has it been?"

"It's night outside, so I'd say eight hours or so." Louis was barring up the place. They situated themselves in an abandoned establishment very close to the sole road leading up to the fort, just in case Zoey was in sight at any moment. "Though I don't know if there's anything we could do still."

"We can't just sit around and wait forever." The biker was not having any of it. He knew better than to be loud, however, and risked their position in such a dark and quiet night. "What if she's being held against her will or some such?"

"Maybe, I don't like waiting either." Louis sat down on his chair, wiping away the day's sweat. He was on this because Francis wanted lookout duty. "But that's what she told us to do. Besides, she just infiltrated a military base. How long would it take you?"

"Good point." Francis wasn't happy to admit that Louis successfully convinced him. Still, this process doing him no good. "I guess it's hard to know that, being all the man that I am, there's still nothing I can do."

"Honestly I never figured she needed a man." Louis grabbed himself a bottle of water. "The girl seems to do everything nowadays."

"First time I met her, she looked the squeamish type." The bottle was quickly handed over. "Never thought she'd become this much a hardass."

"Even more than you?" Louis chuckled.

"Maybe." The biker snarled. "But don't count on it."

Francis knew that the question purely for humour, it made him think. Back when the group first got together, it was Bill who was up to the plate as the leader. Things weren't so bad then, and the old man proved capable enough. After his death, Zoey simply assumed that position, yet she fit it so naturally. Sometimes, the biker wondered what would have happened if he took point instead.

As the two continued their conversation while hiding their presence outside the front porch, the Witch was left inside.

Cindy held the pistol Zoey left in her hands, and simply waited. Times like this meant nothing. She only lived for when it ended. She still wasn't going to sleep, but this time it was because she didn't want to.

…

Drip

If nothing else, at least Zoey had a moment to rest. Her food was unimpressive, but it was already more than she expected. She didn't eat it though, as it would be more useful that way. Not a lot could be seen from her cell, only the guard and a few other cells down the walkway. Not a lot was inside her cell either, only stained bricks and charred concrete. What Zoey had plenty of, however, were questions, and answers could not be found like this.

"Lieutenant." The guard was unresponsive for a moment, but after the second call turned to her. She noticed that no one here appeared to be too concerned with gas masks and hazmat suits, unlike the personnel in Millhaven.

"What is it, citizen?" It was like a line from a movie, she thought.

"Is Captain Washington in charge here?" She needed a target.

"There is currently no higher ranking officer on site." That was a good first step. Since they still kept their military hierarchy and had yet to dissolve into a group of bandits, she could safely assume they were still adhering to some military procedures. She knew how far she could reach.

"Does the Captain always meet captives face-to-face?"

"Ma'am, please know we do not treat you as captives, instead citizens. We're doing this for your best interest." It was rather laughable, but Zoey did not interrupt. "We've had two waves of refugees. The ones extracted from Florida Keys did not meet the Captain. Only more recent ones, such as yourself, did."

Something like that was not out of the ordinary, but Zoey sensed something wrong. The guard was telling the truth, as far as he knew anyways, but she felt there was something off.

"How long have your squad been in Fort Jefferson, Lieutenant?"

"204 days." Curious, he checked his watch. "205"

That would mean the platoon had been stationed here around the time of the breakout. She didn't know when it first happened, but Philadelphia was the centre of it. She wanted to know the reason they were put here in the first place, but that would definitely be classified information.

"How much longer do you think you'll be here?"

"As long as I am needed, ma'am." He seemed to be quite faithful in a bright future. "As soon as Captain Washington gets the confirmation from the higher up we will be fighting back."

"I see." So it was true that the Captain was receiving orders, meaning there might still be those trying to fix the situation yet. That did not explain all of her wondering, but it would have to do. "Thank you, Lieutenant."

He didn't answer. The night was young, and Zoey needed to wait. As unintuitive as it sounded, night time patrol would be far more intense than daytime, due to the nature of the enemies these soldiers are expecting. If she rested now, the morning would be far more lax during the shift change. It would also make it harder for other prisoners to detect her actions.

So she did.

Morning comes with the lights pouring from the up the stairs. This holding halls were dug manually recently, hardly any time to put any windows in. It was better for her anyway.

"Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Can you please push me back the plate? I kicked it out by mistake."

"Certainly."
The guard was trusting, and no one could blame him. Such a simple request from such an innocent woman could not hurt him. Those were the thoughts running through his mind, right before he felt her hands from inside the cell grabbing him by the head and slammed it into the metal bars.

It was swift and subtle enough that she didn't seem to have woken up any other refugees. Taking the keys were fairly easy, although stuffing the disguise on herself wasn't. She was not at all tall, and it took a lot of folding to make those clothes fit her even remotely. It was only for masking sights at a distance, of course, as anyone close enough would easily tell she's in no way a soldier. Still, she did get the ability to carry an unconcealed weapon around, immensely helpful.

Her plan was to find a way to the Captain's quarters. However, no matter how unfinished this place was, it was still a fortress. Navigating something so big without signs or the ability to ask anyone made things infinitely harder. She tried to stay out of sight as much as possible, but not to be too sneaky as to arouse suspicion. Being quiet and unnoticed, however, was a trait well-practiced in times of an apocalypse, and she got it down to a science now.

"Morning shift starts now."

Rung the bullhorn. This place was well-guarded and isolated enough that such a noise would not attract any significant attention from the infected horde, not to mention that those would have been cleared out mostly by now. Infected are, after all, just people, and they had limited numbers. One would think they would die eventually. However, medical science hadn't been put together long enough to understand anything just yet, and the scope of the infection was still largely a mystery to the survivors.

Zoey took the opportunity to blend in. From what she had been told, Zoey steered clear of the barracks where most of the soldiers were located, and went to the closest hallway that had access to the emergency exit. It also helped that there was only one of those, this being a secluded island fortress and all.

She received a few looks along the way, but no one seemed to pay her too much mind. It would take some time for either the guard to wake up, or people start screaming about how there were no guard on sight. Either way, it would be a decent amount of time at least. Escaping this place should be left for later.

It wasn't long after that when she located an office at the end of the marble arch. There was no sign of any sort, but it made the most sense, considering how there were wiring aiming at the room. Regardless, it was her best shot.

First, she must knock.

"State your intentions." The voice was enough. Closing the door, Zoey's rifle was already primed and ready. Captain Washington noticed, but instantly recognised his position. In front of him was a desk full of papers and military equipment, no doubts crucial files. He would not be able to move before the gun was shot, if he decided to. Thus, he stood still. "Ms. Zoey. I see you're walking about."

"I do not mean to cause alarm, but unfortunately I cannot risk being apprehended." She wasn't going to shoot, but the gun was a good leverage to get answers. "I have questions for you."

"Go ahead."

"There was a hit squad on a boat out on the Keys two days ago. Was that your order?"

"Yes." Zoey tightened her grip. No matter what she told herself, this man was responsible for attempted murder of her teammates. There was no need to kill him yet, but he better had explanations. "Were your friends abroad?"

"You're not asking questions, Captain, I am." Usually at this point, it would be easy to close the distance between them, and stop Washington from any possible sudden movements. However, having been trained, Zoey knew that approaching him would only give him a chance to disable her weapon. She wasn't willing to shoot so openly, and thus she could not risk it. "Why do you consider the people on that boat a threat?"

"They're not a threat." Washington was staring her down. He, as a Captain of the US Navy Seals with 14 years of experience, wasn't going to take this situation sitting down. He knew that this girl was far more than met the eye, however, and he kept his temper in check. "They were merely people who may carry information that is dangerous to this settlement."

"What kind of information?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

"I'm the one with the gun here, Captain."

"A gun which you don't want to fire." Washington was sure he already had this figured out. "I've been watching you. You're afraid shooting will lead my soldiers outside in here, and you wouldn't make it out alive."

With that, he puffed his chest, and slowly approached her. Zoey cursed at the wind, because he was right.

"So is that it? You'll throw your life to kill me?"

"Ah, but you see. I'm a Captain of Seal Team 7, I don't need a M4A1." He cracked his knuckles, while Zoey was still hesitating. "I'm far more discrete, and efficient."

"This rifle is still a better weapon that your fist." Zoey let go of the trigger and flipped off the lock bolt, to prevent any accidental firing. She held the gun by its handle, but backwards. It became a heavier baton.

"Maybe. But I never said I'd use my fist."

He was waiting for her to lower the gun, so that he could release the GSG 1911 pistol housed under his sleeves, made possible only by his own uniform. With the flash of the gun barrel, Zoey realised it was silenced. Before she could react, however, she was hit at the shoulder. No longer able to muster enough strength, her rifle also dropped, and she was pushed to the wall, bleeding profusely.

"You're quite admirable, Ms. Zoey, but you're not me." The gun barrel was twenty centimetres away from her forehead. "Now it's time for me to ask the questions."