Day 5: Planning

As they approached a large tent marked with military insignia, Ethan took a deep breath.

The young soldier held the tent flap open, gesturing for Ethan to enter. Inside, maps covered every available surface, their edges curling in the humid air. In the center of the organized chaos stood a man Ethan assumed was Lieutenant Hawkins.

Hawkins was tall and lean, with close-cropped gray hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through Ethan. He dismissed the young soldier with a nod, then turned his full attention to Ethan.

"Staff Sergeant Ethan Ryder," Hawkins said, his tone making it clear it wasn't a question. "75th Ranger Regiment. Silver Star recipient. Known for the Kandahar operation where you..." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "Well, let's just say your actions saved a lot of lives that day."

Ethan felt his stomach drop. He'd hoped to keep his past under wraps, but clearly, that ship had sailed. "With all due respect, sir, how did you-"

Hawkins cut him off with a wave of his hand. "I've followed the Rangers and SEALs for years. Wanted to join up myself, but a bum knee kept me out. Your Kandahar mission... that was the stuff of legends. Colonel Matthews sacrificed himself to save an entire village. And you, Sergeant Ryder, you were the one who carried out his final orders."

The memory hit Ethan like a physical blow. Colonel Matthews, bleeding out in the dust, his voice barely a whisper as he ordered Ethan to complete the mission at any cost. The weight of the decision he'd had to make that day still haunted him.

"That was a long time ago, sir," Ethan said, his voice tight. "I'm not that person anymore."

Hawkins leaned back against a makeshift desk, his eyes never leaving Ethan's face. "So why the deception? Why not tell us who you really are? Hell, you outrank most of the people here."

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because I'm not interested in fighting anymore. I've seen enough war, enough death. I came here looking for safety, not another battle."

"And yet here you are, in the middle of the biggest war humanity has ever faced," Hawkins countered. "We need men like you, Ryder. Men with experience, with the ability to make the tough calls."

Ethan shook his head. "You don't understand. What I did... I can't go back to that life."

Hawkins was silent for a moment, studying Ethan intently. Then, his voice softened slightly. "What about your sister and niece? Megan and Zoe, right? Don't you want to protect them?"

Ethan's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know about them?"

"We do a debrief on all new arrivals," Hawkins explained. "Standard procedure. But that's not the point. The point is, they're here, in this compound. And right now, we're all that stands between them and those monsters out there."

Ethan felt his resolve wavering. The thought of Megan and Zoe facing the horrors he'd seen... it was unbearable. "What exactly are you asking of me?"

Hawkins straightened up, moving to one of the larger maps spread across a table. "Come here. Let me show you what we're up against."

Ethan approached the table, his eyes scanning the detailed map of Tacoma and the surrounding area. Red X's marked areas overrun by Death Angels, while blue circles indicated safe zones and potential targets.

"We're here," Hawkins said, pointing to the marina at the Tacoma Narrows. "We've managed to secure this area thanks to the sound emitters, but our reach is limited. We need to expand, to reclaim key locations that will give us a fighting chance."

He traced a line along the map, highlighting several locations. "The clinic and pharmacy on 6th Avenue - we've already secured those. But we need more. The Port of Tacoma, for one. It's a gold mine of supplies and potential evacuation routes. Then there's the Tacoma Public Utilities building on South 35th Street. If we can get that operational, we'll have a stable power supply for the emitters."

Ethan studied the map. "What about Joint Base Lewis-McChord? Surely they have resources we could use."

Hawkins nodded grimly. "We've been in contact, but they're in a similar situation to us. Holding on, but barely. They're focusing on securing the airfield. If they can manage that, we might be able to establish an air corridor for supplies and evacuations."

"And the Death Angels?" Ethan asked.

Hawkins sighed heavily. "It's bad, Ryder. Really bad. We estimate there are at least 700 in the Tacoma area alone. And they're evolving, adapting to our tactics faster than we can come up with new ones."

He pulled out a tablet, bringing up a series of grainy video clips. "Look at this. Footage from our last recon mission."

Ethan watched in horror as the clips played out. A Death Angel using a car as cover, ducking behind it when a soldier opened fire. Another launching itself through a plate glass window, using the shower of breaking glass to mask the sound of its approach. A third picking up a large piece of debris and hurling it at a group of soldiers, the impact creating noise that drew in more of the creatures.

"Jesus," Ethan muttered. "They're learning."

Hawkins nodded grimly. "Exactly. They're not just reacting to sound anymore. They're creating it, using it against us. And that's not even the worst of it."

He swiped to another video, this one showing a Death Angel moving silently through an empty street. "Watch closely," Hawkins instructed.

Ethan leaned in, his eyes narrowing. The creature moved with an unnatural grace, its steps careful and measured. It paused at an intersection, its head swiveling from side to side as if... "Is it listening for ambushes?"

"Got it in one," Hawkins confirmed. "They're developing tactics, Ryder. Strategy. They're not just mindless killing machines anymore. They're becoming soldiers."

The implications were staggering. Ethan's mind raced, he'd seen them communicate but this... "What about the rest of the world?" he asked. "Surely we're not alone in this fight."

Hawkins moved to another map, this one showing a global view. "Communications are spotty at best, but we've managed to piece together a rough picture. It's... not good."

He pointed to various locations on the map. "The UK is dark. No contact for the past three days. Same with most of continental Europe. Russia's claiming they have the situation under control, but..." He shrugged. "It's Russia. Who knows what that means."

"China?"

"Partial contact. They've managed to hold onto some of their larger cities, but the rural areas are overrun. Japan's doing better - their island geography is working in their favor, much like us here in Puget Sound."

Ethan's eyes scanned the map, taking in the sea of red that covered most landmasses. "Any good news?"

Hawkins managed a wry smile. "Some. New Zealand's holding strong. They closed their borders at the first sign of trouble, and it seems to have paid off. Cuba, surprisingly, is doing well - turns out all those old Soviet bunkers are good for something after all."

He zoomed in on the map, focusing on North America. "Here at home, it's a mixed bag. East Coast is in bad shape - too many large, densely populated cities. Midwest is holding on in pockets. California's a mess, but San Francisco has managed to establish a safe zone thanks to some quick thinking from Silicon Valley types. They've got drones running 24/7, using sound to herd the Death Angels away from populated areas."

Ethan absorbed the information, despite his earlier reservations, he found himself drawn into the problem, the challenge of it all.

"So what's the plan?" he asked finally. "How do we push back?"

Hawkins smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "That's what I was hoping you'd ask. We've got a basic strategy in place, but with your experience... well, let's just say I'm open to suggestions."

Ethan leaned over the map, he could feel Hawkins' eyes on him, measuring, assessing. Ethan took a deep breath.

"Alright," he began. "First things first, we need to establish a clear picture of our assets and liabilities." He looked up at Hawkins. "What's our current force strength? And I don't just mean boots on the ground. I want to know about air support, naval assets, everything."

Hawkins nodded approvingly. "We've got about 500 combat-ready personnel, a mix of military and trained civilians. Two Blackhawk helicopters, though fuel's a constant concern. As for naval assets, we've got three Arleigh Burke-class destroyers anchored offshore, serving as our floating command centers and safe zones."

Ethan's eyebrows shot up. "Destroyers? That's... unexpected. What about their Tomahawk inventory?"

"Each ship carries a full complement," Hawkins replied. "But we've been hesitant to use them. The blast radius..."

"Could draw every Death Angel for miles," Ethan finished. "But it's good to know we have the option." He turned back to the map. "Okay, let's break this down sector by sector."

He pointed to the northwest corner of the city. "Point Defiance Park. It's heavily wooded, lots of cover. Perfect for setting up ambush points. We could use it as a training ground, get your people used to moving silently in terrain similar to what they'll face in the city."

His finger traced a line south. "The North End. Lots of residential areas, narrow streets. It's going to be a nightmare to clear, but can't ignore it. Too many potential survivors, and too many hiding spots for the Death Angels."

He tapped the map near the center of the city. "Downtown Tacoma. This is where you need to focus our initial efforts. The tall buildings give us vantage points, and the open streets will make it easier to funnel the Death Angels where we want them."

Ethan's mind raced, years of tactical training kicking in. "We need to think asymmetrically. The Death Angels have the advantage in direct confrontation, so we avoid that at all costs. Instead, we use their strengths against them. Their hearing is their greatest asset, but it can also be their weakness. We need to create acoustic dead zones, areas where sound doesn't travel as expected. Old churches with vaulted ceilings, parking garages with concrete walls - these can become killing grounds if we use them right."

Hawkins leaned in, intrigued. "Go on."

Ethan nodded, warming to his theme. "We set up a series of sound emitters throughout the city, but not just as a defensive measure. We use them offensively. Create a network of safe corridors that we can turn on and off at will. Herd the Death Angels where we want them, then shut off the emitters and ambush them."

He paused, a memory surfacing. "There's something else. Two days or so ago, I saw a group of Death Angels communicating. They used a series of chirps, almost like bird calls. I've got some experience with game callers from my hunting days. If we could replicate those sounds..."

"We could lure them into traps," Hawkins finished, excitement creeping into his voice.

Ethan nodded. "Exactly." He paused letting his fingers drum against his tigh. "There's something else too. During my journey here,I encountered a man... he was beyond reason, filled with a kind of feral rage. One of our group suggested it might be some kind of virus. Have you seen anything like that here?"

Hawkins' expression grew grave. "We've had... incidents. Mostly people with pre-existing psychological issues, or those who've had prolonged exposure to the Death Angels. Our medical team is looking into it, but so far, they've got more questions than answers."

Ethan nodded slowly, his mind working through the implications. "If there is some kind of airborne pathogen, this becomes far more dangerous."

Hawkin's eyes grew shaper, his hand to his chin. "It certainly does."

Ethan turned back to the map, his eyes tracing potential routes through the city. "We need to be smart about how we move. The underground maintenance tunnels could provide safe passage through some areas alot of echoing but with the emitters we'll be alright. And we can't forget about the old bootlegger tunnels under the city. They might not cover a large area, but they could be crucial for infiltration and exfiltration."

He straightened up, meeting Hawkins' gaze. "As for weapons, we need to prioritize silent kills. Bows, crossbows, suppressed weapons when necessary. But we also need to think bigger. Those Tomahawks on the destroyers - we might not be able to use them in the city, but what about creating a kill zone outside the urban area? Lure a large group of Death Angels out, then hit them with everything we've got."

Hawkins nodded slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "I knew bringing you in was the right call, Ryder. This... this gives us a fighting chance."

Ethan felt a familiar tension in his chest but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. "It's a start," he said. "But we've got a lot of work ahead of us. We need to begin training operations immediately, get our people used to moving and fighting in absolute silence. And we need to start small - secure a few key locations, establish a foothold, then expand from there."

"You know," Hawkins said quietly, "when I first heard about your background, I thought we'd be getting a hardened warrior, someone to lead our troops into battle." He paused, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Instead, we got a strategist. A planner. Someone who sees the bigger picture."

Ethan felt unease creeping up his spine. "I've seen enough frontline action to last a lifetime, sir. If you need someone to lead a charge, I'm sure there are better candidates."

Hawkins shook his head. "No, Ryder. What we need is exactly what you've given us - a plan. Hope." He clapped Ethan on the shoulder.