The jeep’s engine rumbled, a familiar lullaby as Jake pulled it into the makeshift garage. Outside, the heavy exterior doors groaned shut, sealing them back inside the Compound’s familiar concrete embrace. Three weeks on mission, and all they had to show for it were a few boxes of scavenged supplies and a team utterly spent.

“Home sweet home. My bed’s never looked as good as it does now,” Porter murmured from the backseat, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. The usual boisterousness of the team had been replaced by a quiet weariness, a stark contrast to the lively bunch who’d left weeks ago.

Jake scrubbed a hand over his eyes, the fatigue a heavy cloak. He’d never mastered sleeping on the move, and the three-day drive back had left him hollow. He switched off the engine, the sudden silence heavy in the air. Wrenching open the stiff door, he dropped down, his stiff legs protesting the jarring impact. A long, hot bath was a distant, luxurious dream.

Mitchell, the guard on duty, nodded a quiet greeting. “Ya’ll good?”

“Yeah, safe and sound, just tired,” Jake replied, handing over the keys. Rigs, their leader, gestured for them to follow, leading the way out of the garage and into the long, empty corridor towards the main block. The sound of their boots echoed on the concrete, the only interruption to the silence as they moved on autopilot, the recent mission’s horrors still playing in Jake’s mind.