Untouched by the Outbreak

Inside the dimly lit conference room, tension filled the air as the prime minister, high-ranking officials, military generals, and the man who controlled the specimens sat around the large table. The screen on the wall flickered with grainy footage from surveillance cameras scattered around various parts of the country.

The prime minister, an aging man with a stern face, cleared his throat, his eyes darting toward the man in charge of the specimen program. "Give me an update on the progress. What have we learned so far?"

The man, dressed in a crisp, dark suit, stood up, adjusting his glasses. "Prime Minister, the specimens have shown exceptional capabilities. They can handle regular zombies with ease. In fact, the zombies around the land we've been monitoring—particularly the area we plan to develop as farmland—seem afraid to even approach them. The presence of the specimens has created a buffer zone of sorts.

No attacks, no breaches."

The squad leader, sitting to the right of the man, chimed in, a hint of pride in his voice. "Those rotten undead didn't even dare to come closer. Our soldiers are secure, and the specimens are doing exactly what we need them to do."

The prime minister raised an eyebrow, tapping his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Interesting. And what of the military base? Or the oil reserves? Can these... specimens help us reclaim those vital locations?"

All eyes shifted toward the general, a hardened man with sharp features, who had been silently watching the proceedings. He leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him. "It's possible, Prime Minister. But there's a complication. The regular zombies are one thing; we can control those with the specimens.

However, the bases and oil reserves are swarming with Brutes, Striders, and other mutant variations. Those creatures are more powerful, more intelligent. We haven't yet tested the specimens against them."

The prime minister frowned. "So, we're still uncertain if the specimens can handle those mutants?"

The man in charge of the specimen program nodded. "Correct. We haven't tested them in combat with the mutant zombies yet. The specimens have been effective against regular undead, but the Striders and Brutes are in a different league. We need more data before we can confidently send them into such high-risk areas."

The prime minister sighed, leaning back in his chair. "So, we're stuck. If we can't reclaim those areas, we can't access the resources we need—oil, weapons, transportation. We need those locations secured."

The general straightened, his eyes cold and calculating. "I suggest we send a small recon team with the specimens. Test them in a controlled environment, see how they fare against the mutants. If they succeed, we can begin planning larger operations to take back key locations. But we'll need to move carefully."

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The prime minister rubbed his temples, considering the proposal. "Fine. Test them. But we don't have much time. Winter is ending, and soon, the undead will become more active. We need to act fast before the zombies, or worse, other survivors, make a move on these areas."

Everyone in the room nodded in agreement.

"We'll prepare the specimens for the next phase," the man in charge of the project assured. "We'll find out if they're strong enough to face the mutant zombies."

The prime minister stood, signaling the end of the meeting. "Get it done. The survival of what's left of our government depends on it."

The prime minister, his voice firm and unwavering, turned toward the man in charge of the specimen program and the squad leader. "Send a small team outside tonight," he ordered. "Take no unnecessary risks. Five or six specimens should suffice. Ensure they are well-equipped and provide cover for them, just in case. According to the data we have, those mutant zombies—Creepers—are most active at night.

Don't stray too far from the base. Keep the mission tight and controlled."

The man nodded, his face tense. "Understood, Prime Minister. We'll keep the operation close to the perimeter. The specimens are ready for deployment."

The prime minister shifted his gaze toward the general. "Ensure our soldiers are prepared to provide cover from inside the base. We cannot afford any casualties. With these specimens, we might finally be able to create a safe zone for agriculture and essential supplies. The power grid, fueled mostly by solar and the remaining fuel reserves, will keep us going.

But without enough resources to support the base, we're just buying time."

The general responded with a sharp nod, his eyes focused and determined. "Our soldiers are ready. We'll have snipers positioned on the walls and troops standing by inside the gates. If anything goes wrong, we'll bring the specimens back safely."

"Good," the prime minister said, his eyes narrowing with resolve. "The future of this stronghold depends on it. We need to secure the farmland and resources to sustain what's left of this nation. Make no mistakes tonight. This mission is critical."

The room fell into silence as the gravity of the situation hung over the gathered officials. The prime minister's orders were clear: the mission tonight could determine the survival of the remaining human strongholds. With the mutants lurking in the dark, the specimens' strength would soon be tested in a way no one had yet seen.

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Later that night...

"Fall back! Fall back!" the squad leader's voice echoed through the night, cutting through the chaos.

Gunfire rattled in the air as the squad of soldiers unleashed a desperate barrage of bullets, backing away toward the open gates of the government stronghold. The Creepers, those deadly fast-moving mutants, had descended upon them with terrifying speed. Shadows darted from every direction, too fast to fully track, as they swarmed the small team.

One of the specimens, powerful and engineered to withstand regular zombies, had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of Creepers. It flailed in a frenzy, trying to fight them off, but there were too many. In a flash, they tore through its defenses, bringing it down to the ground.

"One of the specimens is down!" a soldier shouted, panic creeping into his voice as he reloaded and fired, barely keeping the advancing Creepers at bay.

"Get it back!" the squad leader commanded, still firing at the relentless wave. But it was too late. The downed specimen disappeared beneath the horde of Creepers, its body convulsing before being utterly torn apart by the hungry mutants.

"Retreat! Everyone inside! Now!" the squad leader ordered, his heart pounding as the remaining specimens responded to the retreat command, their movements deliberate as they began to pull back.

The soldiers backed into the dome as the gates loomed in sight. The mechanical whirring of the gates opening wider filled the night air as soldiers on the wall provided covering fire, trying to thin out the Creepers pursuing them. The soldiers could see the blur of pitch-black eyes and grey skin of the mutants as they closed in.

The soldiers and specimens barely made it through the gates as they slammed shut with a resounding clang. Outside, the Creepers screeched and clawed at the reinforced steel, their haunting wails sending shivers through the defenders inside.

Breathing heavily, the squad leader turned to his men and the remaining specimens. One was lost. A reminder that the Creepers were far deadlier than they had anticipated.

"**Fuck!**" the squad leader cursed under his breath, his face pale with fear and frustration.

His heart pounded as he leaned against the steel gate, trying to collect his thoughts. The reality of the situation hit him hard—this mission was a disaster. Six specimens, supposedly their best defense, had barely managed to take down just one Creeper.

Worse, when they tried to retrieve the Creeper's corpse for further study and modification, the horde had descended like a storm, ripping through their ranks with terrifying speed and precision. One specimen down in seconds.

This wasn't just a setback—it was a nightmare. The specimens were supposed to be their trump card, their means of survival. But if it took **six** of them to kill just **one** Creeper, they were far from equipped to deal with the numbers roaming outside, especially at night.

The squad leader's hands trembled as he wiped the sweat from his brow, anger rising alongside the fear. "That means we're trapped to move only during the day," he muttered, the words bitter in his mouth.

One of the soldiers approached cautiously, his voice tense. "Sir, what do we do now?"

The squad leader looked around at his men, all of them just as shaken, and the surviving specimens, standing motionless as they awaited their next command.

"We need to report this failure to the prime minister," he said through clenched teeth. "We need more firepower, more protection. These specimens aren't enough. We're gonna need more than research and modifications—we need a whole new strategy. Fast."

He stood up straight, shaking off the fear. His gaze hardened. "The Creepers own the night. But we'll make sure the day is ours."

Without another word, he turned and stormed toward the inner compound, already planning their next move.

Inside the massive dome of the last government stronghold, the air in the conference room was tense. The prime minister sat at the head of the table, flanked by the highest-ranking officials, generals, and the man who controlled the specimens. The squad leader, a battle-hardened veteran, stood before them, his face worn from the recent encounter with the Creepers.

"Report," the prime minister demanded, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

The squad leader exchanged a glance with the man overseeing the specimens, then spoke, his tone grim. "Prime Minister, the mission was a failure. We can only move or conduct operations outside during daylight hours. The Creepers… they're too strong, too fast. We lost a specimen last night, torn apart in seconds by a horde of those things. Six specimens managed to bring down only one Creeper.

It's not sustainable for nighttime operations."

The room fell silent. Faces turned to the man who controlled the specimens, who cleared his throat. "Given this new data, I agree. The Creepers dominate the night. Our best chance is to focus on operations during the day when visibility is higher and those mutants are less active."

The prime minister leaned back in his chair, deep in thought. "So, we adapt," he finally said. "The workers outside—those maintaining the farms—must operate from morning until evening. The specimens will provide cover from the regular zombies. They seem effective enough against them. But no more night operations, not unless absolutely necessary."

The general spoke up. "We can still scavenge for resources—fuel, food, and equipment. The nearby fuel stations will be a priority. We need to ensure we have enough supplies to power our stronghold, especially if the solar grid fails again."

"Agreed," the prime minister said, nodding. "Every mission outside the dome will require thorough planning. Use the specimens to guard scavenging teams during the day. Ensure there are no mutant zombies around before sending them out."

The squad leader straightened, ready for his orders. "We'll increase scouting operations during daylight and map out areas free of mutants. Once we confirm it's safe, we'll send out scavenging missions. Oil, supplies, anything we need."

The prime minister's gaze swept over the room. "Our survival depends on adapting to these new threats. We can't afford more losses. Coordinate everything carefully."

As the conference continued, the weight of the situation pressed on everyone in the room. The government's survival was hanging by a thread, and their fight against the mutants was far from over. But for now, they had a plan—a fragile one, but a plan nonetheless. The sun would be their ally, and they would have to make the most of it while they could.