Second Platoon is on the move...

Second Platoon's convoy was now just splitting up from the other military vehicles that carried men from different platoons. After a right turn they were now made up of just 9 Humvees packing 4 men in each on average. The group of Humvees moved liked a single tan snake slithering around a bend. It would be a few more blocks before they entered a zone comparable to the wild west. The lieutenant's vehicle was the third of nine. Not too far up front, yet nowhere near the rear. His situational awareness would depend on the men up in front.

Colin reached for the vehicle radio. "Basilisk 2-1 this is Basilisk 2-3. How copy, over?"

The sergeant in the lead vehicle responded in two seconds flat. "Basilisk 2-3, this is Basilisk 2-1. Good copy, over."

"Basilisk 2-1 keep in mind that you are my primary eyes and ears for this whole trip. If you see something suspicious, don't be shy and call it out you hear?"

"Roger that Lieutenant."

Suddenly the scenery began to change. Buildings became taller with more stories, and movement along the 4 lane road became more challenging with abandoned cars amassing together here and there. Litter and debris all over the pavement looked like sprinkles on a dark creme cookie cake.

As the convoy passed through the final intersections cordoned off by guardsmen dressed in universal camouflage patterned uniforms, Colin knew that he would miss this kind of treatment. They waved at the lieutenant's men who returned the gesture quickly.

Lieutenant Klein now saw smashed and beaten cars as the vehicle group passed by them. It looked as if a giant had strolled through carelessly. One minivan was overturned on its side, its windshield shattered.

"Welcome to the riot zone, please keep your hands and feet in the vehicle at all times," Corporal Atkins said.

The radio beeped. "Basilisk 2-3 this is Basilisk 2-1, I see what looks to be uh, impassible traffic one block up ahead. What's the detour going to be? Over."

"Basilisk 2-1 I want you to take a right at the next intersection, then a left. Proceed back to the original route from there."

"Roger."

The Humvee snake slithered around the grid-like city again. Once back on their original route, Colin's danger meter rose. Even though he couldn't see what was directly in front of him, what was around the third Humvee told the lieutenant enough. Suggestive graffiti, broken police barriers, and even a crowbar lodged inside a store window. To make matters worse, the civilians here didn't look like they were dressed to go shopping. Caps and bandannas hid their identities from the public. One man held his middle finger up to the convoy.

"Angsty teens got nothing better to do," Private Mead said sadly. "They could be at home playing on their consoles!"

"Haha okay nerd!" Specialist Sanchez laughed up in the gunner's cupola.

"Hey Rice, what are you looking at dude?" Mead asked. The convoy had now halted as the lead Humvee honked at something.

Colin turned back to look at the quiet soldier. The man had his gloves on the window as he leaned towards the glass.

"Infected spotted, blonde female. On my 11, at the crosswalk one block to our left."

Everyone flicked their heads immediately. Packs of looters ran to and fro, but if one focused they could make out a petite young woman dressed in short shorts and a thin grey shirt. She was kissing a man in a suit passionately, arms locked around his neck. His hands fumbled to react, but he fell down suddenly. Then she was on top of him.

"Oh shit," Atkins said. His face was wrenched in disgust. "The XXX-infected are here!"

"Aw come on, maybe it's just two lovebirds," Sanchez chirped.

Colin was impressed. "Lovebirds don't do that in a crosswalk. Good eye private, there's our first one. Be on the lookout for more."

They passed through a few more blocks before the convoy halted yet again for what seemed to be an extended period of time. The lieutenant thought he saw an XXX-infected lead a young looter by the hand towards an alleyway. Corporal Atkins drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and tried to lean his head around.

The radio beeped once more. "Basilisk 2-3, this is Basilisk 2-1."

Colin frowned. "Basilisk 2-1, go ahead."

"Basilisk 2-3 there's a Ferrisburg police officer who wishes to speak to you."

"Okay 2-1, bring them up. Over," Colin sighed.

A cop in riot gear clutching a nightstick appeared from the side of the second Humvee. The man stopped inches from Corporal Atkin's window. The soldier with 2 stripes pulled it back.

"Hey who's the lieutenant in charge here, you?" the policeman pointed at Colin.

"Yes officer, that would be me. What can I do for you?"

"Lieutenant, you must be part of the **** that's headed towards the hospital. Sir, you need to know that we've spotted armed looters who are couple hundred meters in that direction. We're in no position for a confrontation."

"Thank you," Colin looked at the officer's rank. "Sergeant. What happened to the barricades here?"

"Looters got cocky with their numbers and decided to rush them. We're a little short staffed if you can't tell by now. The virus... it really decimated our numbers. My unit is pulling back and we're going to regroup at one of the National Guard's checkpoints. I just wanted to stay a little longer to pass on the information to you 8th Division boys!"

"I appreciate it sergeant. You've done all you can, so go ahead and rejoin your unit. We'll take it fro- HEY STEP BACK!"

A looter with a backpack hurled a glass bottle at the officer. The police sergeant stepped back in the nick of time. It flew harmlessly through the air and landed on something that didn't have feelings. The officer pivoted and sprinted for the assailant.

"Yeah, get that bastard!" Sanchez hollered.

Colin relayed the information to the rest of the convoy. "All units, we are ready to move again. I've got some intel, uh we supposedly have armed looters several hundred meters from here. Everyone stay sharp, over."

Colin puffed his cheeks and exhaled. So far they were making good progress, and surprisingly the rioters ignored them for the most part. No gunfire. He had a feeling that things were about to take a sharp turn, but tried to push that aside. They needed to get to their objective.