Frozen Flame of Dawn - Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Chapter 20: Orders and Instincts_2

The ground was a mess of dirt, blood, and the broken bodies of beasts. The acrid scent of blood and sweat filled the air. Soldiers moved like ghosts, silent, exhausted, but vigilant.

Manas and Billy’s squad had finally cleared the perimeter. Their bodies bore fresh cuts and bruises, and their faces were streaked with dirt and dried blood. Their breathing was heavy but controlled—seasoned warriors who knew how to stay sharp even when drained.

Billy wiped his face with a bloodstained cloth, his eyes scanning the treeline. His grip on his tactical knife remained firm. He glanced at Manas, who was leaning on his spear, shoulders rising and falling steadily. They didn’t need to speak. The look was enough.

“Another pack like that, and we’ll be carrying bodies back instead of walking,” Manas muttered, eyes still on the treeline.

“If it’s another pack, we don’t walk—we crawl,” Billy replied, his voice a rough edge of exhaustion and sarcasm. He kicked a dead hyena’s head aside.

“At least they stay dead,” Manas grunted, flicking blood off his spear.

The fight had been long, bloody, and costly. But they’d made it. They’d cleared it. The entrance to the facility stood before them, large steel doors marked with security codes and reinforced locks.

“Finally,” Billy sighed, patting Manas on the back. “Let’s get inside and see what all the fuss is about.”

Manas nodded, stepping forward with Billy close behind him, moving toward the steel doors.

“Hold it right there,” a voice called out from behind them.

Both of them froze. Their eyes met briefly before they turned to see Grant and his squad approaching, helmets off, faces annoyingly clean. Grant strode forward like a king inspecting his subjects, his grin lazy but his eyes sharp.

“You boys have done enough,” Grant said, hands on his hips. He tilted his head toward the facility doors. “We’ll take it from here.”

Billy’s eyes got narrow, and he looked back and forth between Grant and his team. “You’ll take it from here?” He was being sarcastic with what he said. “So, let me get this straight— we sweat, we bleed, we fight through packs of wild beasts for you but now we’re supposed to stand by.”

“Yeah, basically,” Grant said with a smug grin that made Billy’s fists clench, “Lock down the perimeter, patrol the area, and no one gets in or out unless I give the word.”

Manas stepped forward, his eyes sharp with barely contained anger. “We cleared the perimeter. We locked down this whole facility. If anyone’s calling the shots, it’s us,” he said, his voice a low rumble, steady but dangerous.

“Orders are orders. Your mission is to escort and secure. Stick to it, soldier.” Grant turned, his voice clipped. “Bring the helicopters into the courtyard. We’re not walking back.”

Billy’s icy gaze tracked him as he entered, his expression hardened with contempt. “Garbage,” he muttered, driving his fist into the wall with a force that left a visible dent. “Absolute garbage.”

“Garry, status on our boys?” Manas asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Garry tapped his comm, his voice grim. “Casualties: 24 dead. 17 seriously injured, 15 combat-ready but not in great shape.”

The numbers hung in the air like a death toll. Billy’s eyes darkened.

Manas nodded, his gaze shifting to one of his younger soldiers — Ghost. A young, wiry soldier with eyes too sharp for his age.

“Ghost,” Manas called, his voice low. “Shadow them. Don’t get caught. Find out what they’re doing inside. I want eyes on it. Record everything.”

Ghost gave a silent nod. His eyes locked onto the building, his body moving slowly toward the entrance, his movements smooth as water.

Billy stood near the entrance, his eyes glued to the door Ghost had just slipped through. His hand rested on the hilt of his tactical knife, his grip tight. The tension in his jaw made his face look like carved stone.

“He better stay invisible,” Billy muttered, his eyes scanning the treeline for any signs of movement.

“Ghost’ll be fine,” Manas said, crouching next to him while sharpening his spear with slow, precise strokes. “Kid’s slippery like oil on water. They won’t catch him.”

“They better not,” Billy muttered, eyes dark and cold. “If they do, Rienfeld’s gonna think we sent him. And that puts a target on all of us.”

Silence fell between them. Only the distant chirping of birds and the faint hum of distant engines from the helicopters echoed.

Meanwhile moved slowly, staying low, his eyes on the heat tracker. Two figures. As he crept closer, the faint sound of muffled conversation reached his ears.

“Pack it faster, we’re already behind schedule.”

“They’ll wait. They don’t have a choice,” another voice replied, smug and sharp.

Ghost inched closer, stopping just around the corner. He peeked.

Two men in black armor—Rienfeld soldiers. They stood near large crates, metal containers labeled with bold, yellow letters: “BIO-SERUM – TYPE III”

“Bio-SERUM?” Ghost frowned. His fingers tapped his comm. He slipped his hand to his waist, pulling out a small black cube—a micro recorder. He tapped it once, the red light blinking softly as he angled it toward the soldiers.

“They’re talking about being behind schedule. No sign of researchers. It’s just them and crates.”

The soldiers shoved one of the crates into a metal platform with heavy clangs, and Ghost narrowed his eyes. His heart rate slowed, his breathing even slower. He watched one of the soldiers tap his wristband and send a message.

“Call for extraction. We’re loading up now. They’ll want this shipment ASAP.”

The second soldier nodded, tapping his own comm. “Copy. I’ll signal Grant. He wants the package out in the first wave.”

After sometime the distant hum of helicopter blades faded into the sky, its roar slowly swallowed by the clouds. Billy and Manas stood in silence, watching the aircraft disappear over the horizon. The slight gust from its departure stirred the dirt at their feet, swirling it around their boots.

“There they go, all cozy and packed with their ‘precious cargo,'” Billy muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm. He folded his arms, his eyes narrowed into sharp slits. “Bet they’re all smiles up there, feeling untouchable.”

Manas said nothing, his eyes glued to the helicopter’s shrinking form. He didn’t need to reply. They both knew something wasn’t right.

A soft crunch of footsteps drew their attention.

“Sir,” said a young soldier — Ghost. The kid’s face was slick with sweat, his breaths controlled but still slightly heavy from exertion. His eyes darted around as if he’d just stepped out of a war zone.

“What you got, Ghost?” Billy asked, stepping forward.

Without a word, Ghost pulled a small data chip from his pocket, handing it to Billy. “Everything’s on there, sir. Footage, audio, everything I could get before they locked down.”

Billy raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the chip. “And?”

Ghost glanced over his shoulder, his lips pressing into a thin line. “They’re working on something big, sir. Beast experiments. Live ones. Mutated creatures.” He glanced back toward the facility with a hint of unease. “But that’s not it. There’s this… crystal. From inside a mutated beast. They’re using it to make something. Not just for awakened folks either. They’re using it on normal people too.”

Billy’s face darkened. “Crystals?”

“Yeah, like shards. Big, glowing pieces. They’re smashing them down and making some kind of serum. Looked like vials of it were being loaded onto the first chopper.” Ghost’s eyes darted to Manas. “They killed all the live experiments that were still in cages, but I saw at least three large containment units get loaded onto the chopper.”

Manas’ fingers curled around the hilt of his spear, his gaze hard as iron. “And the second trip?”

“That’s where the rest of the products are going. Data drives, chemicals, more crates of those vials. They’re trying to wipe this place clean, sir, like it never existed.” Ghost’s eyes glanced at Billy. “They’re burning the evidence.”

Billy let out a slow breath, eyes locked on the chip in his hand. He rotated it slowly with his fingers like it was a live grenade.

“Well, well, well,” Billy muttered, a cold grin spreading across his face. “Looks like Rienfeld’s got more than just shiny boots and fancy orders.” He glanced at Manas. “This is bigger than we thought, man. Way bigger.”

Manas nodded, face set with grim understanding. “We send this to Captain, not anyone else’s.”

“No arguments there,” Billy replied, tucking the chip into the hidden pouch on the inside of his vest. “No way I’m letting this fall into the wrong hands.”

Then suddenly a sharp crack of gunfire echoed from the treeline. The scream followed a second later.

“Sir!” A soldier came sprinting toward them from the eastern perimeter, eyes wide, chest heaving as he ran full tilt. “The Shanty town— it’s under attack! Mutated beasts broke through! People are running for their lives!”

Manas’ head shot up. He turned to Billy, eyes locked in an unspoken conversation.

“What do we do, sir?” the soldier asked, still catching his breath. “Do we warn them to stay away or—”