‘Kill Everything That Moves’ Part 15

The dim glow of computer screens reflected off Professor Danny's furrowed brow as he paced the tech hub.

Nis 6, 2025

THE ASSEMBLY
The bulletin board in Newlife’s central hub now bore a desperate plea:

“SCIENTISTS, DOCTORS, ENGINEERS – HUMANITY NEEDS YOU”

We’d papered every corridor with it. Now we waited in the makeshift auditorium, its flickering lights casting long shadows. Would anyone come?

Then—footsteps.

First a trickle, then a flood. A gaunt man in a tattered lab coat. A nun clutching rosary beads. A teenager with circuit boards strapped to his chest like armor.

Ocean leaned over. “We asked for experts… but we’ll take whatever hope we can get.”

THE NETWORK
Mike and Eddie had transformed the tech room into a war zone of wires and jury-rigged radios.

“We’re piggybacking on old military satellites,” Mike explained, fingers flying over a cracked keyboard. “Most are dead, but a few still whisper.”

The screen fizzed to life—coordinates flashing across a grainy global map.

Dots.

Dozens of them.

“Survivor enclaves,” Eddie breathed. “Boston. Chicago. Even London.”

John’s hand trembled as he traced the lines. “We’re not alone.”

THE PLAN
By dawn, we’d organized the volunteers into teams:

The Listeners: Monitoring radio frequencies for distress calls.

The Archivists: Cataloging every skill among Newlife’s refugees.

The Scouts: Preparing to reach other enclaves via underground tunnels.

But as the meeting adjourned, Eva tugged my sleeve.

“They’re lying,” she whispered.

I followed her gaze to Mike’s screen—where the satellite feed now showed something impossible.

The dots were moving.

Not randomly.

In formation.

Okumaya Devam Et