**Chapter 10 - Gray Tags** The staccato of gunfire reverberated down the dimly lit corridors of Metro Doctors Hospital, sending echoes of dread ricocheting off the sterile walls. Task Force Omega, under the stern command of Brix, was in the thick of it—methodically purging the facility of any remaining MB Infectees and desperately searching for uninfected survivors. With disciplined precision, soldiers swept through the ground floor, moving like a well-oiled machine, relentless in their mission. But just as they reached the sixth floor, an urgent transmission shattered their momentum. “Field Commander Brix,” Field Marshal Roxas's voice cut through the din, icy and unyielding. “Eliminate all Meteor Survivors.” A chill coursed through Brix's veins as the command registered. These survivors—they were the very ones they had fought so hard to protect. They were unharmed, still whole, still hopeful. The earlier directive had merely been to separate them from the rest of the uninfected populous. “Sir, are you absolutely sure?” His voice trembled, a whisper barely escaping his lips. He thought of the children among those survivors, innocent lives caught in an impossible situation. Roxas reinforced, his tone sharp as a blade. “The order is unequivocal, Commander. Eliminate all potential threats—including Meteor Survivors. Once they die, there’s no turning back. A shot to the brain… no exceptions.” "But—" Brix inhaled sharply, his heart racing as he clutched the radio, wrestling with the weight of the mandate. “Is there a problem, Field Commander?” The Marshal’s voice dripped with skepticism, challenging Brix’s hesitation. “Please, sir… we need more information. Why must we take such drastic measures?” Brix’s words emerged as a desperate plea, pleading for clarity amidst chaos. “We sent you the footage. Watch it, and you’ll see just how dangerous they can become.” With that, the Marshal's voice faded, replaced by the somber tone of a man who knew the stakes all too well. Brix felt bile rise in his throat. Alongside this mission came another—a confidential order from the President herself: he was to rescue her daughter, one of the Meteor Survivors. This new command complicated everything. As the video flickered to life before him, grim images flashed across the screen. Brix’s jaw tightened in resignation as he observed how swiftly those once innocent could become instruments of horror. He took a deep breath. “Understood, sir. We will proceed as directed.” “Good,” Roxas replied, satisfaction threading through his words. “Keep me posted.” Clenching his rifle, Brix summarized the new orders for his men. “Escort all uninfected survivors to the paramedics outside. Keep the Meteor Survivors contained underground.” “Roger that, Commander!” The unit responded in unison, scissor-sharp in their cohesion. As updates rolled in, the efficiency of the operation sang through the radio. “Sixth floor, east wing - clear." “North wing - clear.” “West and south wings - clear.” Though Brix sought to quell the unease gnawing at his gut, he couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. “Move out. We’re heading to the seventh floor.” “Commander,” Lieutenant Leo called from behind, urgency lacing his voice. “Why are we hesitating on the Meteor Survivors? Shouldn’t we neutralize them first?” “Because they’re not an immediate threat, Leo,” Brix countered, voice firm. “Our priority is to save lives. Every second spent deliberating here endangers more people to the infectees!” Without further debate, Brix led his team to the fire exit, ascending the stairs two at a time. As they stepped onto the seventh floor, the air turned thick with horror, halting them in their tracks. The sight that greeted them was ghastly—MB Infectees lay scattered, their bodies marred, blood saturating the floor in a morbid testament to violence. “What in the hell...?” Brix muttered, muscles tensing as he tightened his grip on his weapon. At the end of the hallway stood a solitary figure, back turned, clutching a bloodied axe as if it were an extension of himself. “Don’t move! Hands where I can see them!” Brix shouted, adrenaline surging through him. ***** Theo’s heart pounded in his chest as he faced the armed soldiers blocking his path, rifles trained on him like predatory beasts. “Aren't you here to assist survivors?” he croaked, desperation lacing his voice. “Then why the guns?” “Identify yourself!” A soldier barked, unyielding. “Theodore Luther,” he steadied himself, chin raised defiantly. A soldier glanced down at a digital tablet, processing information before nodding to another. “Private Claire, give him a gray tag.” A female soldier stepped forward, medical box in hand. “Are you injured?” “No,” Theo replied, eyeing the gray tag that was being secured around his wrist with growing suspicion. “What’s this for?” he interrogated. “Standard triage protocol,” the soldier replied tersely. “Triage protocol? Gray tags are for low-priority cases. That’s not standard, is it?” Theo shot back, the unease coiling tighter around his gut. The soldier who had first demanded his identification stepped closer, casting a wary glance at the bloody axe in Theo’s grip. Theo noted the name tag on the man’s chest: Field Commander Brix Miller. “Did you take them all out?” Brix asked, voice steady yet laced with scrutiny. “Yes,” Theo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, tension etched across his brow. “My sister is here, and I won’t let those infected threaten us.” For a moment, silence enveloped them, punctuated only by distant shouts and chaos ensued in the hospital. Brix gestured for his team to secure the area, beginning the grueling task of evacuating uninjured survivors from the upper floors. Theo observed as his heart ached, witnessing the unwelcome separation—those with gray tags were sent apart from the rest. Then, as if summoned by fate— “Theo!” A voice pierced the air like a beacon, and Theo turned to see Aries rushing toward him, her arms outstretched. She enveloped him in a fervent embrace, her body trembling against him. “Theo, I finally got through to Mom’s hospital. She… she was hit by meteorites.” Her voice quivered, the weight of the news a tangible weight pressing down upon them. “They couldn’t reach me last night, so they told Dad. But…Mom isn’t there anymore.” Terror gripped Theo's chest. “What? Where is she?” “They said Dad signed some papers, transferring her to another facility for monitoring, but they wouldn’t tell me where. I tried calling Dad, but his phone is off!” Theo's mind raced, fury and confusion intertwining. 'What the hell is going on?' Brix, keenly observing, swiftly barked orders. “Get the uninjured survivors downstairs now!” A soldier approached Aries. “Miss, you need to come with us.” Theo instinctively pushed her toward the soldier. “Go with them, Aries.” “Let's go together,” she insisted, gripping his arm. The Lieutenant stepped in, shaking his head. “He can’t. Gray tags stay behind. Only uninfected survivors without direct contact with the meteorites are being evacuated first.” The words rang like a death knell in the confined space, underscoring the desperate reality closing in around them—life and death hanging by a thread. In that tense moment, everyone stood at the precipice of a decision between survival and salvation, none knowing how far they were willing to go to preserve what remained.