Clearing out the Singularity Polymers had taken two days. Combined with the two weeks spent clearing Block D beforehand, Calista had barely stopped working the entire time.
She had thought she would sleep like the dead once it was over.
She didn't.
In fact, Calista woke before dawn had fully broken.
Maybe the bed in the industrial park's temporary dormitory was too uncomfortable. Maybe it was something else.
She lay there for a full ten minutes, staring at a faint crack in the ceiling.
The mark had been left behind when the construction crew accidentally damaged one of the building's original pipes while converting it into dormitories. The pipe had eventually been repaired, but the mark remained.
Some things were like that. Once they happened, they happened. No matter how well you repaired the damage, the traces never truly disappeared.
Fourteen.
That number had circled through Calista's mind all night.
Eleven people had died during the clearing of Block D. Another, critically wounded and too badly infected, hadn't survived. Two more had been lost while clearing the Singularity Polymers.
Fourteen faces. Fourteen names. Fourteen people who would never again line up in the cafeteria, sweat on the training grounds, or stand watch at their posts.
Calista had thought she would feel much lighter after securing the Knoxville Industrial Park.
Instead, she only felt hollow.
And not relieved at all.
She was only eighteen.
At eighteen, before the apocalypse, she should have still been in school, worrying about exams, agonizing over relationships, or excitedly making plans with friends for the weekend.
Even going by the age she'd been in her previous life, in her early twenties, she should have been dutifully going to work every day, cursing her company and her bosses through the endless monotony.
Anything but this.
Anything but getting up at six-thirty in the morning, washing her face, and preparing to preside over fourteen funerals.
The face in the mirror was frighteningly pale.
Dark shadows hung beneath her eyes, and her lips were pressed into a thin line.
Calista tried to put on a resolute expression, the kind a commander was supposed to have, but the muscles in her face felt frozen stiff.
"You're only eighteen," she whispered to her reflection. "What gives you the right to decide who goes into Block D? What gives you the right to decide who joins the Task Force? What gives you the right to send them to die?"
The person in the mirror gave no answer.
Once again, Calista was forced to confront a simple truth of this walker apocalypse.
Every decision she made could cost a living, breathing person their life.
She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, then buried her face against her knees.
No sound escaped her.
Only the violent trembling of her shoulders revealed that she was crying.
The eighteen-year-old commander, alone in an empty room, finally stripped away every layer of armor.
She remembered the first time she'd met Frank Wilson.
The corporal had just been rescued from Lorenzo's basement cell, dressed in rags and gaunt from hunger. Rubbing his hands together nervously, he'd cautiously asked whether any of the companions who had been taken to the production line were still alive.
She remembered Anderson working a double shift at a sentry post that winter because a new recruit had come down with a fever.
She had told him to go back and rest.
The young soldier had scratched his head with an embarrassed smile. "Commander, I'm National Guard. I've trained plenty. A little cold won't hurt me. That kid's only nineteen. He isn't used to it yet."
She remembered Brenda.
Brenda had simply been someone who wanted to change herself. She thought she was strong enough to join the Defense Force and make a life for herself that was different from the housewife she'd once been.
Leo had only just saved her, and then, after they stormed the workshop, a walker had knocked her down.
...
And now they were lying in the cold morgue.
They would never speak again.
Never laugh again.
Never nod to her in the cafeteria in the morning and say, "Morning."
"I'm sorry." Calista buried her face even deeper. "I'm sorry..."
She cried for ten minutes.
Maybe twenty.
She didn't know.
Time had lost all meaning in the darkness.
When Calista finally raised her head, her eyes were so swollen she could barely open them, and tear tracks covered her face.
She shakily climbed to her feet, went to the sink, and washed her face again and again with cold water.
The water was icy enough to make her skin ache, but it cleared her head.
The woman in the mirror had bloodshot eyes. Her lip was bitten through, a thin trace of blood seeping from it.
Calista stared at that face for a long time.
Then she began putting herself back together.
She tied her disheveled hair back tightly, dried her face, changed into a clean dark gray coat, and wrapped a strip of black cloth around her left arm.
When she was done, Calista opened the door.
Leah and Rickson were waiting in the hallway.
They looked at her swollen, reddened, but calm eyes.
Neither asked what had happened inside.
"The ceremony starts in an hour," Calista said, her voice slightly hoarse. "Leah, is the Defense Force assembled?"
"They're ready, Cali."
"Rickson, the monument?"
"They put it up overnight. The base has been reinforced."
Calista nodded and headed outside.
Her steps were steady.
Her back was straight.
"Calista?" Leah called softly.
Calista looked back.
"Are you okay?"
She was silent for two seconds.
"No. But I'm ready."
...
A large crowd had already gathered in the plaza of the Knoxville Industrial Park.
Beside the platform where Calista had delivered the pre-battle rally before the operation, a large stone monument now stood.
No one spoke.
There were only footsteps and the occasional muffled cough.
As Calista passed through the crowd, some people murmured, "Commander." Others nodded. Some simply watched her.
She forced herself to keep her back straight.
One step.
Then another.
Toward the platform.
But the instant she stepped onto the stairs, her knees nearly gave out.
Leah caught her elbow in time.
The sisters exchanged a silent look.
Calista gave Leah's hand a reassuring squeeze, steadied herself, and looked out over the crowd.
Suddenly, she remembered this same plaza several weeks earlier, when she had announced the operation to clear Block D.
She remembered the excitement on the faces of the Defense Force soldiers and the members of the Base.
Frank Wilson, deputy leader of his Defense Force squad, had been standing in the front row. The moment she'd finished explaining the plan, he'd started clapping and shouted from below, "Finally, something big! Commander!"
Calista's throat tightened.
She opened her mouth, intending to deliver the opening she'd prepared.
The first syllable stuck in her throat.
"I..."
Calista clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
The pain helped clear her head.
"Last night," she began again, louder this time, "I went to the morgue."
Someone in the crowd sucked in a breath.
"Not as the Commander. I went as... Calista."
She paused and looked down at the people below.
"I looked at every one of their faces. Because I thought that if I didn't even have the courage to face them, then I had no right to stand here."
Heat suddenly welled in her eyes again.
Calista blinked hard and forced the tears back.
"Frank. Anderson. Brenda. The Royce brothers..."
Muffled sobs began to rise from scattered places across the plaza.
"I have no right to put grand words in their mouths." Calista took a deep breath. "Death is death. It's cold, silent, and irreversible.
"They're gone.
"We're still here.
"That's the reality of the apocalypse. There's nothing romantic about it. There's only survival and loss."
She slowly descended from the platform and walked to the monument.
Fourteen newly carved names were engraved into the stone.
"But they went anyway." Calista pointed to the names one by one. "They knew it was dangerous, and they still went. Why?"
She rested her hand on the base of the monument.
"Because they believed that once Block D was cleared, life at the Base would get better.
"They believed in Rock Fortress.
"They believed in me.
"They gave their lives so we could keep ours."
Calista turned to face the crowd.
A fierce light burned in her eyes.
"They died in Block D.
"So we'll turn Block D into the hope that keeps the Base alive!
"Every inch of land they paid for with their lives will produce medicine and fuel!
"And the people they protected, every single one of you, will live better than yesterday. You'll live longer. You'll live with more dignity!"
She returned to the center of the platform, her gaze passing over every face.
"So today, we stand here and mourn.
"But tomorrow, when the sun rises, the reorganization of Block D will begin as planned.
"Within three months, I want to see the chemical plant's production lines running.
"Within one year, I want Rock Fortress producing medicine and fuel.
"That is my promise to all fourteen of them!"
Someone began to clap.
Calista raised a hand and stopped the applause.
"Not yet," she said. "First, remember them. Remember these fourteen names. Remember why they died.
"Then, when the industrial park is truly running, when medicine is actually coming off the production lines, when we can spend next winter inside rooms with heat...
"Then we'll clap.
"We'll stand in front of their monument and clap for them."
Calista's voice suddenly rose, filled with scorching force.
"Rock Fortress will never forget anyone who sacrifices their life for us!
"The apocalypse will show us no mercy!
"So we have no choice but to be tougher than it is, colder than it is, and more stubborn about staying alive!"
The entire plaza fell silent.
Everyone understood.
Their commander was only eighteen.
She could grieve.
She could be afraid.
But she would still lead them forward.
And in the apocalypse, that made people far more willing to follow her than any flawless hero ever could.
"The ceremony is over. Defense Force, remain here."
The crowd began to disperse in an orderly fashion.
When only the Defense Force remained in the plaza, Calista stepped down from the platform and walked to the front of the formation.
"Everyone, look at the people beside you. Remember their faces.
"Because on the next mission, in the next crisis, the next time someone has to step forward, it could be them.
"Or it could be you."
Her voice suddenly became unnervingly calm.
"I don't want to preside over another ceremony like this. Not even once.
"So starting tomorrow, Reserve training intensity will increase by thirty percent!
"I want you strong enough to win everything back without paying a price like this again!"
...
If you'd like to support my work and unlock advanced chapters, you can follow me on p-@-treon.
p-@-treon/GhostParser (70 Chapters Ahead)
You can also follow as a free member to read a few advanced chapters.