Two days passed.
Substation Echo was no longer just a survivor camp—it was a functioning military substation. The drills had started as scheduled. Shadows rotated in and out, training soldiers how to use the new rifles, operate the cremation units, and calibrate the radar kit. The civilians were still wary, but the mood had shifted. They had structure now. Routine. A sense of something larger than survival.
Phillip stood at the southern helipad, helmet in one hand, radio clipped to his shoulder. Lieutenant Rosales approached him with a tablet tucked under his arm.
"Schedule's been followed to the letter," Rosales said. "Weapon inventory matches. Body disposal drill ran twice. No issues."
Phillip nodded. "Good. What about the civilians?"
"Curious. Cooperative. A little spooked about the drones that were flying overhead, even though they can't see it, but they're adjusting."
