The team takes a much needed break from zombie slaying once they conquered the 4th floor

A/N: Glad to be on a daily update roll lately. Been fun to write this section of the arc I have been planning for a while now that we are finally here. Hope you are enjoying the ride as well, and if so, please remember to review if you are able.

Sergeant Garcia's POV

The chair groaned beneath you as you sank into it, the aged wood momentarily protesting your weight after a solid hour of crouching, moving, and fighting. You twisted the cap off the water bottle you'd grabbed from the fridge and drank deep, the cold liquid a small mercy against the dryness in your throat. The apartment smelled faintly of dust and something metallic, the ghosts of the three corpses Allen, Jonathan, and Jane had just dragged out to the balcony.Through the open sliding door, you could see the three of them stacking the bodies near the railing. Jane worked with practiced efficiency, her firefighter's strength and search and rescue background making the grim work look almost routine. Allen grunted as he dropped one of the zombies onto the pile, his construction worker's frame handling the dead weight without complaint. Jonathan looked paler than usual, his jaw tight, but he didn't stop.

Lieutenant Mills stood near the kitchen counter, her back against the cabinets as she scanned the room with those steady brown eyes of hers. She caught your gaze and gave you a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that you'd all earned the rest. Zhang had already curled up on the couch, her small frame sinking into the cushions, her eyes half-lidded. Emily and Allison sat together near the window, the younger woman's voice a low murmur as she answered whatever question Emily had asked about the building.

Four floors. You'd cleared four floors of this tower, and the second had been almost a blessing, two apartments with nothing inside but stale air and abandoned belongings. The seven zombies that should have been there had already taken their leave of the building, and you'd met them face to face in the pool area, crashing through the balcony ceiling like some cheap horror movie set piece. The thought made you take another long pull from the water bottle.

But the first and third floors had made up for the second's quiet. Two zombies in the hallway, three more crammed into the apartment at the end of the corridor, and another near the elevator and close enough to try to ambush them once they opened the doors, making his distance from them once they were able to stab him at close quarters; something was cutting it a little close. In the end, they all seemed to come at you like they always did, mindless and hungry, their grasping hands reaching for anything warm. You'd put one down with a shot to the eye, the crack of your rifle still echoing in your ears. Zhang, for her part, had taken the second with her combat knife after her shot went wide, and the wet sound of steel entering skull was clearly something you'd still have trouble getting used to.

And then there was that bloody, claustrophobic stairwell. You'd nearly missed the one slouched against the wall between the third and fourth floors, its gray skin blending with the concrete in the dim lighting. It had lunged when you passed, and only Mills' sharp warning had kept you from catching a mouthful of rotting teeth. You'd shot it yourself, a point-blank range round through its temple, and then you'd all kept moving after taking a deep breath.

By the time you reached the fourth floor, the adrenaline had begun to burn out, leaving your muscles heavy and your thoughts a little slower than they should have been. Apartment 4A had been blessedly empty. But 4B had been a different story.

Zachary's voice had crackled over the radio just as you were about to force the door. A warning, precise and calm, from the drone operator back at Pacific Point Tower. Three zombies were inside, clustered near the windows on the far side of the living room. No movement on the balcony itself, so you had a clear approach if you could take the door quietly.

You'd crept closer, hand signals passing through the group. But then a single gunshot rang out from across the street, and one of the zombies inside crumpled. Kristen's doing, her shot clean and surgical. The remaining two turned away from the door in response, their attention fixed on the source of the noise, their backs to you.

So, you quickly decided not to waste the gift your amazing girlfriend had given you.

Two shots, center mass to slow them down. Zhang's knife finished the first while it was still turning. Emily was able to put a round through the second's skull when it came at her with its arms outstretched. The whole exchange lasted less than ten seconds.

You set the empty water bottle aside and let your head fall back, staring at the ceiling's stains in the painting. The silence in the apartment was heavy, punctuated by the occasional creak of the building settling or the distant moan of the wind through the broken windows on the lower floors.

It was the quiet that let your thoughts catch up with you. The faces, the ones that were still human when you shot them. Not that any of them knew what they were anymore, not really. But they'd been people once. Someone's father, someone's daughter. People who'd gone to work or school or the grocery store, who'd had plans and hopes and a future that had been ripped away by this plague, wherever it had come from.

You'd been a soldier for a while now. Army-trained, the discipline drilled into you until it was muscle memory. But soldiering had never involved shooting civilians, and that's what they were, underneath all the rot and hunger. Civilians who never signed up for this and never had a chance.

You stood, your knees popping, and crossed the living room toward the balcony. Allen looked up from the pile of bodies as you stepped past him, something sympathetic in his tired eyes. You realized that he knew just from quietly looking at you. And then the buff construction worker turned around and let her have a moment of privacy to collect her thoughts.

So, you sighed and walked past the corpse pile without looking at it and stepped to the far side of the balcony, where the view opened up to the rooftop of Pacific Point Tower. The distance was just far enough that Kristen was a small shape against the concrete, a dark silhouette with a rifle barrel gleaming in the afternoon light. She was lying prone, her body still as she watched the building through her scope.

Your heart ached at the sight. And then you pulled the radio from your vest and dialed the frequency you'd set for her overwatch channel. There was a click as she keyed her own mic, but she waited for you to speak first.

"Hey," you said softly. "You're a hell of a shot, as always. Good to see your injuries from the last battle hadn't impacted your performance too much."

A moment of silence, then Kristen's voice, soft and warm despite the static. "The angle was clear. They'd turned their backs to you by then. I just had to be patient."

"Patient. Right. You took that shot from what, 85 meters? Through a window?"

"Just about. It was nothing."

"It wasn't nothing." You leaned against the railing, the cold metal pressing into your forearms. "It was the difference between us getting ambushed and us ambushing them."

Kristen hummed softly. "How are you holding up?"

The question hit you somewhere you hadn't expected. You opened your mouth to give the soldier's answer, the automatic fine that you'd been trained to give and everyone had been trained to hear. But the words wouldn't come.

Instead, you let out a breath that turned into something halfway between a laugh and a sigh. "I've been better."

"I know," she said. "I can see it in your posture through my scope. You're leaning on that railing like you're holding yourself up."

You looked down at your hands, at the faint tremor in your fingers that you hadn't noticed until now. "It's just a lot, Kris. Clearing the tower, that's what we trained for, right? Hostile threats, room clearing, I know I was born for this." You paused, the words sticking in your throat. "But they're not hostiles. Not really. They're just people. People who ended up on the wrong side of something they couldn't control, and now we're putting them down like rabid dogs."

The woman you love was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer than usual. "I know, Jo. I see them through the scope, and I know what they used to be. I have to remind myself that they're not that anymore. That whatever made them who they were is already gone."

"I keep telling myself that." You watched the way the sun caught the edge of the building's rooftop, the long shadows stretching across its surface. "But it's hard. I look at them, and I think that could have been my mom. Could have been my sister."

"Your family got out," Kristen said gently. "They reached the evacuation fleet alongside Zhang's family. They're safe."

You swallowed against the tightness in your throat. "I know. I know they are. And I'm grateful; I really am, even if I don't know exactly where they are right now. But then I think about all the other people who didn't make it, all the families that weren't lucky enough, and it just..." You shook your head. "It weighs on me."

"Let it weigh then," she said with conviction. "Let yourself feel it. If you push it down, it'll come back worse, and you won't be able to shoot straight."

You let out a wet chuckle at that. "Doctor's advice?"

"Girlfriend's advice. Same doctorate, different specialization."

That pulled a genuine laugh from you, and you felt something unclench in your chest. You looked up at the rooftop again, at the small shape of her. She was motionless, but you could picture her perfectly, the way her eyes never left the building even now, the way her hands rested steady on the rifle.

"How's your head?" you asked, the question coming out quieter than you meant it to.

"The headaches are bearable. Zhang's orders were very specific about not getting carried away and stopping if they got worse, though. A bit annoying, given the stakes of the mission today, not going to lie."

"That's just because she knows what she is doing and because she loves you. We all do."

Kristen made a sound that might have been a smile. "I know. You, more than most."

You leaned a little more heavily on the railing, the tension in your shoulders starting to ease. "I'm glad you're up there. Watching over me."

"Where else would I be?" She said simply, but the simple sentence carried the weight of affection and commitment, and it made you sigh dreamily.

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the soon to be midday sun warm your face. Behind you, the sounds of the group settling grew quieter, the silence of the apartment deepening as everyone caught their breath.

"One more floor to the maintenance room we have been heading to," you said slowly. "Hopefully we will be able to find Allison's dad there alive and well. It would feel good to save another life after all the walking dead we had to put down so far."

"Indeed," Kristen said. "But regardless, I am sure you'll get through it. Just like you've gotten through everything else."

"Because I have you."

She was quiet for a beat. Then, softly, "And I you, Jo. So stay focused, and we will pull through."

You took a breath, steadied yourself, and pushed back from the railing. The tremble in your hands was gone. "Thanks. I really needed this. Talk to you later. Take care."

"Same. And if any more undead abominations try to eat you, show them what you are made of. They won't stand a chance if you do."

And with those parting words, she cut off the transmission. You allowed yourself a moment to center yourself by closing your eyes while inhaling deeply, your face buffeted by the winds. But then the moment passed, and you were ready. And so you headed back inside, determined to see this through to the end in the name of your Master and for the people you loved.

And that's it for now. I hope you enjoyed it.

Before I go, though, I wanted to take a moment to mention that this is officially my 100th chapter written for this particular branch, since I didn't make my own path from the basis started by Decadent Empire until after he posted the first 15 chapters of his branch. So, thanks for all the support so far as you have joined me for this storyline.

And here's to another interesting 100 chapters more :D