OPERATION: DEAD DAWN

By Tom Perrett

for the 2023/2024 Lindenbaum competition

OPERATION: DEAD DAWN

By Tom Perrett

for the 2023/2024 Lindenbaum competition

How To Play
You don't read this book as you would an ordinary book. Instead, you start at the beginning
and then turn to the specified section based on your decisions. You'll need some six-sided
dice and a pencil and paper to keep track of your character and items.

Encountering Zombies
Dealing with the zombie horde can take on many forms, and it is for you to decide how best
to approach the undead. Factors such as how many zombies there are, their distance from
you, and type of weapon you use will all have an effect.

Combat
When encountering the undead, you will be told how many zombies are in the group, and
their distance from you in metres. Zombies will move one metre closer in each round of
combat until they are adjacent to you. You are free to use any weapon you choose in each
round. If you achieve equal to or greater than the target score, that number of zombies are
defeated, e.g. when using a sidearm, with 4 zombies at a distance of 2 metres, the target
score is 12. If you roll 12, they are all defeated. If you roll 11, 3 of them would be defeated,
as the target score for 3 zombies is 10, leaving one zombie remaining that advances to 1
metre away, which would require a new target of 4.

Distance / Zombies 1 2 3 4 5

1 metre 4 6 8 10 12

2 metres 6 8 10 12 14
*Example table, see below for specific weapon modifiers.

Weapon Types
You are equipped with a steel baton (MELEE), standard issue sidearm (SIDEARM) and an
M4 carbine rifle (AUTOMATIC). You will need to decide which is best for each encounter.
You may find alternate weapons during your mission. You may only have one of each type
at any time, so you will need to decide which to keep.

Melee
A melee weapon can only be used when zombies are adjacent to you. Roll a d6 and
compare the result to the table below, taking into account the number of zombies in the
group, and any modifiers your melee weapon has.

Number Of Zombies Target Score

1 2

2 4

3 6

4 8

5 10
Shooting
Guns can be used at any distance, though some may be more effective than others
depending on the range. The table below shows the target number required to defeat
zombies based on their number and distance from you. Each weapon uses a different
number of dice, and will have a different modifier based on the distance to target.

Distance / Zombies 1 2 3 4 5

1 metre 5 7 9 11 13

2 metres 7 9 11 13 15

3 metres 9 11 13 15 17

4 metres 11 13 15 17 19

5 metres 13 15 17 19 21

Sidearm
Sidearms are more effective at close range. Roll 2d6 and compare the result to the table
below, taking into account the number of zombies in the group, their distance from you, the
current fight or flight modifier, and any modifiers your melee weapon has. Uses 2 sidearm
ammo.

Distance 1 2 3 4 5

Modifier +2 +1 0 -1 -2

Automatic
Automatics are more effective at long range. Roll 3d6 and compare the result to the table
below, taking into account the number of zombies in the group, their distance from you, the
current fight or flight modifier, and any modifiers your melee weapon has. Uses 3 automatic
ammo.

Distance 1 2 3 4 5

Modifier -2 -1 0 +2 +3

Taking Damage
If zombies are adjacent and you fail to achieve the target score, you take damage equal to
the number of adjacent zombies.
Healing
You can heal at any point during the game, even when in the middle of combat, unless
zombies are adjacent. Different healing items provide varying amounts of health. Once
used, the item is discarded, or it’s number of uses is decreased. When healing in combat,
using an item counts as a round, so zombies will continue to advance or attack if they are
adjacent.

Item Effect Number Of Uses

First Aid Kit Restore 5 Health 1

Bandages Restore 2 Health 3

Field Surgery Kit Restore 10 Health 1

Waiting
While in Combat or when Fleeing, you may choose to wait. You may wish to do this to allow
the zombies to move closer, giving you an easier target score, or to use a healing item.

Stealth
It is possible that you can avoid the undead completely. If zombies are more than 1 metre
away, and you have not yet engaged in combat, you can attempt to sneak past them. Roll a
d6 and compare the result to the table below, taking into account the number of zombies in
the group, and the current fight or flight modifier. If you fail a stealth roll, then you enter
combat.

Distance / Zombies 1 2 3 4 5

2 metres 3 4 5 6 7

3 metres 2 3 4 5 6

4 metres 1 2 3 4 5

5 metres 0 1 2 3 4

Attacking From Stealth

If you have the option to use stealth and you choose not to take it, you may attack the
zombies with an advantage. You may roll an additional 2 attack dice, and pick the highest
results, e.g. if attacking with a sidearm, you would normally roll 2 dice, you now roll 4 and
pick the highest 2, if attacking with an automatic, you now roll 5 dice and pick the highest 3.

Searching
If prompted in the text, you can search the current area you are in once, even if the current
section has already mentioned acquiring equipment. Roll a d6 and compare the result to the
table shown in that section. No modifiers affect this roll.

New Weapons / Attachments.

You may be able to obtain new weapons to replace your standard issue arms. Rules for the
specific weapons will be given when they are found, but note that when + or – to either
attack dice or attack roll are mentioned, these are relative to the standard roll. E.g. a shotgun
adds +3 to attack rolls, but automatic ammo use is doubled when using it to attack, making
ammo usage 6 per attack.
You may only have 1 attachment to each weapon. Effects given from other items / squad
stack.

Squad Rules
Having a squad to back you up can give you advantages during your mission. Unless it is
stated below, previous rules are not applicable to squads.

Combat
Whichever weapon you choose when fighting zombies, your squad mates will also use. You
will still roll your normal number of dice, however, for each additional member, add 1 to your
attack rolls, e.g. 2d6+2 for a sidearm and 2 squad members.

Taking Damage
When the zombies inflict damage on you, you can choose to have your squad mates take
the damage instead. However, the zombies will inflict double the amount of damage on your
squad. If a member of your squad falls to zero health points, they are not killed unless
explicitly stated, but you are not able to benefit from any bonuses for that member. If your
health points fall to zero, the mission is over.

Stealth
When attempting to sneak past zombies, you will still roll your normal number of dice,
however, for each additional member, subtract 1 from your stealth rolls. This includes
members with zero health points.

Narrative Events
At some points during your mission, you may make a decision that gives you a Narrative
Event word. Write this on your sheet. Later on in the mission, it may refer you to turn to a
special section based on the Narrative Events you have encountered.

Beginning The Mission

You begin your mission with a steel baton (MELEE), standard issue sidearm (SIDEARM)
and an M4 carbine rifle (AUTOMATIC). You have 24 SIDEARM ammo, 36 AUTOMATIC
AMMO, and 15 health points. You are also equipped with 1 first aid kit.
 Player Sheet

Weapon Dice Modifier Ammo

Melee __________________________ _________________ _______________ _______

Sidearm __________________________ _________________ _______________ _______

Automatic __________________________ _________________ _______________ _______

Squad Members Health Points

__________________________________

__________________________________

Inventory Narrative Events

1
You check the clock on your dashboard: 2:30 AM, almost on the dot. Twenty minutes ago,
the ring of the phone shattered your sleep, and now you're en route to the base for a sudden
briefing. As you sip the coffee you scrambled to bring along, curiosity mounts. What could be
so critical that they'd call you in at this ungodly hour—especially while on leave? But the call
had been from Major Carter; the urgency in his voice signalled this was no drill.

Approaching the base checkpoint, the guard squints at you, a momentary flicker of surprise
at your pyjama-clad appearance. You present your ID without batting an eyelash. He salutes
crisply and lifts the barrier, waving you through.

Once you reach the barracks and your locker, it won't take long to shed the informal attire
and step back into the role of a sergeant.

"What's going on, Sarge?" Behind you, Marcus, nicknamed Ghost for his covert prowess, is
already half-dressed.

"Got me, Ghost. Is everyone else in?" His smirk tells you all you need to know—he and the
team were as prepared for this as you.

"Let's not keep the Major waiting," he jokes as you stride to join the others.

In the briefing room, Major Carter stands with an intensity that borders on unnerving. He's a
tough one to read at the best of times, but tonight, his usual poker face is nowhere to be
seen.

Looking around the briefing room, you're met with the familiar faces of your team members.
Private Hart stands at ease near the corner, her focus sharp despite the late hour. Sergeant
Nguyen is checking her gear methodically, a silent nod your way acknowledging your
presence. Private Reed lounges against a wall, but his relaxed posture belies the alertness
in his eyes. And there's Corporal Rodriguez, ever the picture of readiness, reviewing what
looks like mission notes.

Major Carter's voice cuts through the tension in the room, commanding immediate attention.
"Everything discussed from here on out is classified," he states, his voice brooking no
argument. "At 0140 hours, we lost contact with Fort Harrison, located 30 miles north of us."

"I thought that place was decommissioned, sir," Private Reed chimes in with a note of
confusion.

Sergeant Nguyen quickly interjects, her gaze sharp as she addresses Reed, "Torch, don't
interrupt the Major."

With control of the room reestablished Major Carter proceeds, "The common belief is that
Fort Harrison was shut down. The reality is it's been operating as a black site for critical
research purposes." He pauses, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "Currently, we're
in the dark about why we've lost communications. We're not dismissing the possibility of
terrorist involvement or foreign interference."

You steal a quick glance around and notice a collection of uneasy looks mirroring your own
apprehension. Everyone's mind seems to be racing with the same troubling questions: A
black site, designed to be impenetrable, now silent? The implications are clear—whatever
caused the blackout at Fort Harrison, it's far from a simple glitch.
"What's the mission, sir?" Sergeant Nguyen's voice cuts through the murmur of unease.

Major Carter outlines the plan. "We're going to airlift you west of the base. You'll approach
Fort Harrison covertly and divide into two teams." His gaze lands on you with weighty
expectation. "You'll have command of this operation and lead Alpha Team along with
Corporal Winters and Private Hart. Your objective is to locate Doctor Falkov and secure her
research data."

Ghost, restless, leans forward. His curiosity is piqued. "What kind of research are we talking
about, Major?"

The Major's answer is swift and to the point: "Classified." He locks eyes with each team
member, a silent demand for focus. "Just understand that Doctor Falkov is your number one
priority. We don't pull out without her and her work."

Ghost almost ventures another question but quickly closes his mouth, reconsidering.
Provoking Major Carter further isn't on anyone's agenda tonight.

"Sergeant Nguyen," the Major goes on, his voice steady, "Bravo Team will be you, Corporal
Rodriguez, and Private Reed. Your objective is to secure the communications centre and get
communications back online."

Corporal Rodriguez lifts his head, his expression one of a man piecing together a puzzle.
"Major," he begins, the gears clearly turning behind his focused eyes, "with communication
lines dead and the enemy unknown, how can we signal to the base that we're friendly
forces?"

A heavy sigh escapes Major Carter; his gaze shifts downward, and the room falls silent.
When he speaks again, there's a weight to his words. "Assume all persons you encounter as
hostile. Accept no resistance."

Reed can't help himself—the question bursts out of him. "Sir, does this mean we might have
to... take out our own guys?"

Major Carter's reply is sharp, with a steel edge to his tone. "There are elements at play
beyond your understanding, Private," he retorts briskly. "Alpha Team has their orders; you
have yours. Complete the mission at all costs, no deviations." The Major's hand finds its way
to his temple, rubbing it wearily. "Believe me, I take no pleasure in this. But these are your
orders."

Private Hart offers a silent gesture of support, placing a reassuring hand on Reed's shoulder.
The unsaid words hang between them—now is not the time to challenge command.

"Once you've got the Doctor and comms are back, make for the admin building's roof for
extraction. We're moving out in five minutes."

turn to 2

2
The helicopter's blades churn the night air into a rhythmic hum, standing out in the stillness
of the early morning hour. It's already set for departure; the pilots are just waiting for the
signal. You hoist yourself into the chopper and buckle up. A quick scan shows the rest of the
team is buckled in too—Rodriguez meticulously checking his equipment, while Reed, with
his eyes pinched shut, tries in vain to snatch a few moments of rest. You suppress a wry
smile at his effort, well aware that in the brief flight to Fort Harrison, sleep is a luxury none of
you can afford.

The skies are clear, and the air is still. As the helicopter lifts off, you lean in to talk with
Sergeant Nguyen, the Bravo Team's leader. Her frown tells you she shares your
reservations.

She doesn't mince words, voicing her frustration freely. "Not even a basic tactical layout of
the place," she grumbles. The edge in her voice is that of a soldier who dislikes flying blind.
"Whether it's a black site or a playground, it feels like the Major's throwing us into a world of
shit without any decent intel."

Rodriguez leans in, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips as he offers a slice of silver lining. "I
reckon we got the easy job, Sarge. The comms building won't be hard to spot—it'll be the
one dressed like a porcupine with all those antennas sticking out."

"Can it, Viper," Nguyen snaps back sharply, her tolerance for humour clearly worn thin by
the gravity of the situation. While Rodriguez—whose call sign 'Viper' fits his swift and precise
approach to comm systems—might excel in his niche of communications and electronic
warfare, his penchant for lightening the mood seems ill-timed. But, despite her stern exterior,
there's an undercurrent of appreciation for the levity he tries to inject into the grim
atmosphere. Against the backdrop of an unknown threat, even a class clown has his role to
play.

You reflect on the composition of Sergeant Nguyen's Bravo Team, recognizing they're a
well-assembled group for the task at hand. Corporal Rodriguez, with his nearly fanatical
grasp of military tech, seems almost predestined for a mission focused on communications.
His knack for electronic intricacies is unmatched, and you've seen firsthand how his
expertise can turn the tide.

Private Reed, the team's demolitions expert, is the wildcard that rounds them out. With the
prospect of barred entry into the comms centre, his unique skill set could mean the
difference between success and stalemate. Reed's youth belies his competence with
explosives, which ironically stems from a past marred by fire. The moniker 'Torch' might
have originated from his less-than-legal exploits, but it also spoke to a talent that the military
was keen to repurpose. Faced with a crossroads between juvenile detention and serving his
country, Reed chose the latter. Now, his past misdeeds could contribute to a critical mission.
It's an unusual origin story, perhaps, but one that underscores the transformative power of
service.

Your own Alpha Team boasts its unique blend of expertise, striking a balance between
brawn and finesse distinct from Bravo's tech and demolition edge. Your personal journey
into the military came through a well-trod path of combat training; the various martial arts
disciplines you'd mastered now a foundation for the rigorous demands of military life. This, in
tandem with your operational experience, forms the backbone of Alpha Team's proficiency in
direct engagements.

Corporal Winters, known as Ghost, is your shadow operative, a man who thrives in the silent
corners of the world. His extensive background in black ops provides the team with
invaluable stealth and reconnaissance abilities, skills that often tilt the playing field in your
favour before the enemy even realizes the game has begun.

Then there's Private Emily 'Angel' Hart, the less seasoned among you but no less crucial to
the team dynamics. As a trained medic and field surgeon, her inclusion might raise
eyebrows for a mission that whispers danger at every turn, but her calm under pressure and
healing hands make her an asset you're relieved to have at your side. True, this kind of
operation would usually be outside her usual scope, but there's no doubt that her medical
prowess will be vital in the field where uncertainty looms large.

turn to 3

3
The helicopter descends, grazing the earth with a gentle jolt that reverberates through your
boots. Before you, Fort Harrison stands, tucked just beyond a sheltering grove of trees. The
base sprawls out, awash in artificial light, a reassuring sign of life amidst the uncertainty. You
can't help but let out a faint sigh of relief; the power grid is holding steady.

Wasting no time, you motion for your team to disembark from the chopper, and everyone
complies with swift, practised movements. In the hushed atmosphere of anticipation, you
catch Ghost's eye and nod toward the woods, entrusting him with the lead. He understands
immediately, vanishing into the tree line with the silent grace of a shadow.

The squad falls into formation behind him, a silent caravan threading through the darkness.
Every member is acutely alert; senses tuned to the slightest rustle or irregular whisper of the
night as they scan for any hint of danger.

Upon reaching the base's perimeter, the reality of the situation grips you tighter. The
formidable fence looms before you, a web of metal designed to keep threats at bay. Torch,
ever ready, steps forward with his trusty bolt cutters in hand. His deft fingers manipulate the
tool with determination, chewing through metal as if it were paper.

You strain your eyes, searching the expanse of the base for any indication of life, any inkling
that things are as they should be, yet you're greeted only by silence and stillness. An uneasy
feeling curls around your gut—a nagging sense that something is amiss.

"Nearly got this," Torch's voice is a hushed murmur, yet it slices through the tension. The
sturdy links give way one after another under his expert touch, the gap widening until it’s just
short of welcoming.

go through the fence, turn to 29

check the rest of the perimeter, turn to 48

4
As you stand in the lab, surrounded by equipment and the unnerving hum of scientific
endeavour gone awry, Doctor Falkov tries to justify the chaos that pervades the facility.

"My research," Falkov begins, her voice echoing off the clinical surfaces, "was about pushing
the limits of human capability. We wanted to create soldiers who could withstand any pain,
any injury—essentially invincible on the battlefield. Through the manipulation of brain signals
and a precise enzyme injection, we believed we could achieve just that."

But her voice falters as she continues, "It... it worked, in a way. They became impervious to
pain, yes. But they also didn't die—not as they should. And even worse," Falkov's eyes drop,
"the virus... it spreads through their bites. I've seen so many people die, torn apart by these
things, but it was only those that were bitten that got back up."

Ghost's reaction is visceral, his face contorted with incredulity and disgust. "You turned them
into monsters!" he exclaims, his outburst slicing through the sterile air.
"Get it together," you command, your tone sharp yet steady, keeping the team on track
despite the revelations. "They're not invincible, though. A shot to the head seems to take
them down," you add, providing a crucial piece of tactical information that has proven true in
your harrowing encounters.

"Interesting," Falkov muses, a spark of scientific curiosity momentarily piercing her

demeanour. She adjusts her glasses, contemplating the significance of your observation.
"That would suggest that, despite the neural modifications and enzyme treatments, the
brainstem retains its vital function for basic life support activities. Destruction of the cerebral
cortex and the underlying midbrain structures effectively halts all autonomous and
involuntary actions, including those driven by the virus."

As you engage with Falkov, Angel wanders through the lab, her gaze settling on the morbid
collection of specimens that illustrate the full scope of the experimentation. Her eyes widen
in shock, "You experimented without limits, without considering the consequences," she
murmurs, more to herself than to Falkov, aghast at the disregard for moral boundaries.

Unperturbed by the judgment in Angel's voice, Falkov defends her work with chilling
conviction. "You see it as a transgression, but this was vital—key to military advancement. I
was tasked with safeguarding our nation's future, with redefining warfare itself," she insists,
the weight of her words underscored by a sense of duty that overlooks the ethical nightmare
before you.

"None of this matters now," you cut through the tension, focusing on the pressing objectives
at hand. "Our mission is to extract you and your research. Where is it?"

Doctor Falkov seems to regain a measure of composure, a reminder of the gravity of her
work bringing a flicker of resolve to her eyes. "I have a backup of it on a hard drive," she
explains. "It's in my office, in the admin building."

Ghost shifts uneasily, his gaze darting to the door as he recalls the sea of undead that
stands between you and the admin building. "We can't go back the way we came," he points
out with a hardened edge of frustration. "It's swarming with those fuckers."

Falkov gives a brisk nod, understanding the peril outside the lab's relative safety. "There's
another route," she says quickly. "If we leave this building at the east exit, we can get into
admin from the rear side of the base."

Her knowledge of the facility's layout reignites a glimmer of hope that you might manoeuvre
through without encountering the worst of the horde. The proposed detour weighs heavily as
a viable option, a path that just might lead you out of the chaos and completion of your
mission. With the objective clear and the doctor and her research essential for extraction,
you waste no time.

"All right," you command, "let's move out. East exit, keep it tight and stay sharp."

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 2 bandages
4 - 1 first aid kit
5 - 2 bandages & 1 first aid kit
6 - 1 field surgery kit

turn to 60
5
Navigating the scarred landscape of the base, you spot a structure that stands apart in its
fortified aspect. "What's that?" you inquire, already assessing its strategic value in your
mind.

"It's the armoury," Falkov responds.

Your eyes subconsciously run over the equipment each team member carries, taking stock
of your current arsenal and ammunition. Logic wars with urgency; while supplementing your
firepower could provide a considerable advantage, every minute spent away from the main
objective is a minute in which anything could go wrong.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 6 sidearm ammo
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 8 automatic ammo
6 - 4 sidearm ammo & 10 automatic ammo

make a detour to the armoury, turn to 56

continue to the administration building, turn to 38

6
"Ghost, we need that door open now!" The urgency knifes through the chaos, a
commander's plea underscored by the urgency of survival.

"Nearly got it!" Ghost's voice, ragged with effort, fires back over the roar of the fray, his focus
unwavering as he wrestles with the lock.

A ghastly figure surges too close. Your response is swift—two shots and the threat
crumples. The space it occupied is quickly filled by another of its grotesque kin.

"Got it!" The relief in Ghost's yell is palpable. The victory, however small, sparks a surge of
motion as all of you dart through the unveiled entrance. The door swings shut with echoing
finality as Ghost throws his weight against it, sealing you away from the deathly tide.

turn to 34

7
Your team instinctively falls into formation against the wall, ready for whatever comes next
as you reach out and slowly pull open the door. The creak of the hinges seems deafening in
the stillness. The stairwell is teeming with more of the undead. Your pulse thunders in your
ears as you steel yourself for the fight ahead, knowing that survival means facing the horror
head-on.

ENCOUNTER
3 zombies
2 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 49

8
"My office isn't far," Falkov whispers, her voice a low blend of urgency and nervousness. Her
eyes flick quickly to the doors on the right. "If we head through these doors, it's just down the
next corridor."

You inch towards the indicated doors, every sense on high alert. Your ear meets the cool
surface, and immediately the unmistakable groans of the undead seep through—a chilling
symphony that confirms their presence.

With a careful hand and controlled breath, you apply the slightest pressure to the door,
easing it open with meticulous slowness to avoid any betraying creaks or clicks. The gap
widens just enough to reveal a small pack of zombies, their attention wholly absorbed by
their attempts to breach another room, their backs invitingly turned to you.

A silent glance shared with your team conveys the precarious opportunity before you. Quiet
as shadows, you begin to slip through the doorway, each footfall a carefully measured risk. If
fortune favours the bold, you might just bypass this potential clash, conserving ammunition
and energy for what still lies ahead.

ENCOUNTER
3 zombies
3 metres away

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 14

9
Panting with exertion, the sting of laboured breaths catching in your throat, you stand amidst
a gruesome quietude. Your immediate foes—the relentless swarm of the dead—have been
quelled, their threat lying inert upon the blood-spattered ground. The door that Hart
inadvertently opened now resembles a jagged maw, leading to what once was a bustling
office space now overrun with silent horror.

You urge your team forward through the desolation of the cubicles. The scene is a chilling
testimony to the nightmarish outbreak; every workstation is a canvas of violence, blood
painting the fabric-lined partitions, evidence of a savage struggle.

The dropped ceiling panel that lies askew and the desperate handprints smeared above
point to a tale of someone's frantic bid for escape—an attempt to crawl above the chaos,
searching for a lifeline. Their fate hangs uncertain in your thoughts as you continue on,
hoping against hope they found refuge.

Reaching the end of the row, you find what you hope is the ticket out of this nightmare—a
fire door with a view to the outside world. There, through the small window, is the
unmistakable sign: 'Laboratory Access.' It's a moment of relief, a glimmer of hope that
maybe, just maybe, Doctor Falkov could be close.

You gather your team, and as you open the door, an alarm erupts, loud and clear—designed
to warn of danger, but now a beacon to every lurking hazard. "Shit, this is going to bring
them onto us!" Ghost yells, the tension ratcheting up again in an instant.

Without hesitation, you bark out the order: "Head for the door!" Every member of your team
knows what's at stake as you dash across the open area towards the lab's entrance.
You yank the door. Locked! The unsettling murmurs of the dead fill the air, a chorus of
unrest carried on a chilling breeze. The scuffling of their feet is a soft, relentless percussion
that grows steadily louder. They are drawing near, surrounding you as they close in from
every angle.

if you have the ACCESS Narrative Event, turn to 45

otherwise, turn to 37

10
Ghost pauses at the threshold of the administration building, his disciplined gaze slicing
through the glass pane. He raises a hand, two fingers extended and then collapsing back
into a fist—a signal that indicates the coast is clear. With a gentle push, he eases the door
open, and the three of you slip inside.

The reception area is as silent as the rest of the base, the desk at its heart left unmanned.
An office chair lies toppled on its side as if abandoned mid-motion. You scan the lobby, the
scene eerily static, until something useful pulls your focus. An evacuation plan affixed to the
wall—a diagram that reveals more than just emergency protocols. It's a treasure map in
plain sight, outlining the base's layout with symbols and designations for each building's
function. From this seemingly innocuous poster, you discern the connection between the
administration building and your destination: the laboratory. A marked corridor on the plan
promises a direct route there, an internal passage hidden from the outside view.

As you’re poring over the blueprint, Ghost’s voice cuts through the tense air. "Sarge, I found
something." He's holding up an empty bullet casing, evidence of recent use—a sign
contradicting the ghost town vibe of the facility. "Something's gone down here." He extends
the small metal clue for you to inspect; it's unmistakably from a sidearm, identical to the
standard-issue arms you all carry.

"Stay alert," you assert. "We head through this building, do a quick sweep of each room we
pass on our way to the lab."

You gesture for the team to fall into formation, each member now hyper-aware that the
base's silence might mask a larger, untold story.

turn to 23

11
Leaving the grim scene behind you, the sliver of hope that drives you forward refuses to be
extinguished. The thought of finding Doctor Falkov—the very crux of your mission—is a
beacon that draws you in despite the shadows that loom.

The large double doors rise before you, stern and imposing, and the placard mounted above
them crystallizes your purpose: 'Laboratory Access - Authorized Personnel Only.' It feels like
a minor victory in a day sorely lacking them—a sign that you're on the right track.

However, access is not granted so easily. A barricade of chairs, tables, and cabinets sprawls
in front of the doors, a chaotic assembly of furniture declaring a silent, desperate stand.

Taking stock of the situation, you weigh your options. Removing the obstructing mound
comes with risks; the commotion could attract unwanted company, and it would cost you
precious time—each second an eternity when horror potentially lurks around every corner.
Yet, behind this haphazard rampart could be the very doctor you've been ordered to extract.
On the other hand, venturing into the unknown maze of the base in search of another
entrance is a gamble. Without knowing the exact layout, you risk losing your bearing,
potentially putting you farther from your quarry, and in the path of more danger.

find another way around, turn to 47

clear the barricade, turn to 15

12
The throb of the helicopter's engines grows to a crescendo as it hovers just above. The pilot
leans out, his voice cutting through the chaos, "Let's move, let's move! Onboard, now!"

You call out to your team amidst the cacophony, "Move!" Every muscle in your body coils
and springs as you dash toward the salvation of the waiting chopper, its rotors spinning a
frenetic dance that drowns everything but the harrowing moans of the undead.

You reach the helicopter first, turning back and bracing to assist your teammates as they
arrive. That's when you see Hart trip and fall—her equipment scattering, the pack tearing
open to reveal its precious contents. The hard drive, that critical piece of data, skids across
the rough ground, coming to rest dangerously close to the encroaching undead tide.

Hart scrambles desperately to regain her footing but falters, and in that heartbeat, they're
upon her—those ravenous creatures that know neither mercy nor respite.

The pilot's voice slices through the terror once more, laden with urgency. "We've gotta go!"
he yells, his eyes wide with the instinctual fear of being overrun. You're torn—the life of your
teammate, the mission's success, the relentless enemy—all converging in a moment that
demands impossible decisions.

go for Private Hart, turn to 25

go for the hard drive, turn to 50

13
Inside the armoury, the sight that greets you is welcome. A bastion of firepower and
fortification. Weapons, varied in type and calibre, stand in orderly rows along the walls, their
silent presence promising a breadth of tactical options. Boxes of ammunition, stacked and
labelled, sit on metal shelving, ready to serve the needs of those in battle.

You step in, taking stock with a practiced eye, sifting through the arsenal with calculated
efficiency. Your team follows suit, grabbing what's necessary without succumbing to the lure
of abundance. Each magazine, each rifle, each piece of gear selected is done so with the
precision of experience—you know the value of time, and the cost of its waste.

You may swap any weapon here with what you are currently carrying, but may still only hold
one sidearm and one automatic.

You gain 24 sidearm ammo and 36 automatic ammo.

SIDEARMS
Derringer: +2 to attack roll each time zombies advance
Revolver: -1 attack dice, but +7 to attack roll
AUTOMATICS
Tactical Rifle: +4 to attack roll
Submachine Gun: +1 attack dice, +1 to attack roll, ammo use doubled.

when you are ready to move on, turn to 38

14
Venturing through the doorway, the chorus of undead moans fades into the background as
Falkov gestures down the corridor, a trace of her earlier composure returning. "Come on, my
office is this way," she prompts with a hint of impatience.

In the shuffle to keep the group coordinated, Falkov's determination sees her breaking from
the tightly held formation. Her hand clasps onto a door handle before you can voice a
cautioning word. With one swift, unwitting pull, the space is suddenly breached and chaos
ensues—zombies pour out from the room she’s opened, like water from a ruptured dam.

The relative quiet is shattered by a swell of groans and the rapid sound of shuffling feet as
the released undead lurch into the hallway, hungry and relentless. Quick reactions and
adrenaline surge through you as you and your team scramble to counter the newly
unleashed threat.

ENCOUNTER
5 zombies
2 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 53

15
Focused on the task at hand, your team sets to work dismantling the makeshift barricade as
quietly as possible, but even the most careful efforts produce a chorus of clatters and thuds.
The discordant melody of moving furniture masks the subtler sounds of danger—the sighs
and murmurs of the beleaguered base.

It's painstaking labour, each piece removed a minor victory against the blockade that stands
between you and your objective. Your muscles strain against the weight of wood and metal,
every lifted chair and shifted cabinet a step closer to the laboratory—and, with hope, to
Doctor Falkov.

But amidst the exertion and the tunnel vision it brings, you become acutely aware of a critical
lapse—a slip in your vigilance. The moans reach your ears belatedly, a dissonant
counterpoint to the clink and scrape of the barricade's deconstruction. Those guttural,
dragging sounds approach from behind, too familiar now, a harbinger of the undead.

You whirl around, the last echo of movement making way for a rapid surge in adrenaline. A
group of zombies has seized upon the distraction, their limping forms drawing closer with a
relentless hunger etched into their grotesque visages.

Caught off guard but not unprepared, your team reacts with swift precision.

ENCOUNTER
4 zombies
3 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 17

16
Your team instinctively falls into formation against the wall, ready for whatever comes next
as you reach out and slowly pull open the door. The creak of the hinges seems deafening in
the stillness. The scene that unfolds before you is one ripped straight from a nightmare.

Private Reed stands there—or what's left of him. But this is not the man you left behind, the
one fighting a losing battle with his injuries. Death had claimed him, transforming him into a
grotesque echo of his former self. His eyes, once vibrant with life, now stare back at you with
a chilling, soulless black sheen. A shiver runs down your spine as those dead eyes flicker
with a twisted sense of recognition.

Your heart races, slamming against your ribcage, as he lets out a guttural snarl and lunges.
It's then you see it—the stairwell teeming with more of the undead. Your pulse thunders in
your ears as you steel yourself for the fight ahead, knowing that survival means facing the
horror head-on.

ENCOUNTER
5 zombies
2 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 49

17
With the barricade finally cleared, the doors open to reveal a long corridor ahead. It's lit by
stuttering fluorescent lights that paint everything in a stark, intermittent glow. At the far end,
you make out what is unmistakably the lab entrance.

As you peer down the hallway, you note the array of open doors lining each side, like gaping
mouths of darkness. From within these pockets of shadow, the now-familiar moans echo, a
chorus of the damned that sends shivers down your spine. The flickering overhead lights
capture brief, haunting flashes of movement—shadows that twitch and jerk in the periphery
of your vision.

"They're in there," Ghost murmurs with a cautious glance toward the open doorways. "We
can't let them hear us or they'll be on us before we make halfway."

His suggestion hangs in the air, a proposal to navigate this gauntlet with stealth. Every
instinct you have screams to engage and clear the threat, but with the risk of swarming, that
approach could sink into an endless battle. Ghost's plan to move quietly, to slip past
unnoticed, suddenly makes a stark strategic sense.

ENCOUNTER
5 zombies
4 metres away

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 52

18
With a heavy heart, you relinquish the opportunity the armoury presented, deeming the
attempt to gain access as too costly in time and effort. The equipment you already possess
will have to suffice. It's not an ideal situation, but you're trained to adapt, to make the most of
what you have. You turn away from the steel door, signalling to the team that it's time to
move on.
However, the pause proved longer than you realized. The quiet debate over how to proceed
has drawn unwelcome attention. Through the stillness, the telltale signs of the undead's
approach reach your ears—a shuffling, an unnatural groan. You curse under your breath.
The distraction has inadvertently beckoned a group of the unsavoury residents.

Reacting swiftly, you gesture for your team to form up, the doctor in the midst of your
protective circle. Eyes alert and weapons at the ready, you're a unit poised for confrontation.
You'll have to fight off these encroachers before pressing on toward the administration
building—every moment now loaded with the urgency of survival.

ENCOUNTER
3 zombies
3 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 38

19
The immediate danger now lays motionless on the floor, and you quickly turn your attention
to Hart. Her face is pale, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths—a clear indicator of
the shock coursing through her. But thankfully, she's unharmed. "It's like he wasn't even
human," she stammers, her voice a fragile thread in the aftermath of the attack.

"Fucking right," Ghost chimes in with a gruffness born of adrenaline, his attention fixed on
the body. "Look at this, Sarge." He beckons you over to examine the grim evidence. His
rounds clearly penetrated the heart—an injury that should have been immediately
incapacitating. "Fucker didn't stop. How is that even possible?"

Your mind cycles through each moment of the encounter, searching for a rational
explanation where none fits. It's bizarre, incomprehensible, and yet Hart's quiet murmur
slices through the confusion with chilling clarity.

"Zombie," she whispers, the word seeping into the heavy air. "It was a zombie."

Ghost lets out a derisive snort. "You've watched too many movies."

But Hart is persistent, her words a mixture of fear and conviction as she retraces the chaotic
scene. "You saw it yourself. It didn't even notice when you shot it. It should have dropped
dead, but it didn't. It only went down when Sarge shot it in the head."

"This is real life, Emily," Ghost retorts. "Guy was probably high on drugs or something."

"Didn't you see all the blood on him? There's no way someone could keep going unless,"
Hart trails off, unwilling to entertain the nightmarish possibility.

"It's not their blood," you conclude, your voice steady despite the unsettling realization.

Your discussion is cut short as more bodies come flooding from the room. Lurching toward
you, all snarling.

The heavy air is abruptly split by a new threat as the door that had thumped open vomits
forth an onslaught of figures, each one an echo of the nightmarish assailant you've just
encountered. They surge forward, a small horde fuelled by that same inhuman snarl.
Instinctively, your team falls back into defensive positions. The corridor, tight and echoing
with the guttural sounds of these beings, becomes an arena for survival. Adrenaline floods
your veins, sharp and clear, as your tactical training kicks in.

ENCOUNTER
3 zombies
3 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 22

20
The gravity of Dr. Falkov's request is not lost on you; it stirs up a memory of Private Reed,
that same resolution and fear mixed together in their eyes. Pulling your sidearm from its
holster, you aim it at the doctor, trying to steady the tremble in your grip.

"Will it hurt?" Dr. Falkov asks, her voice a whisper, her eyes revealing a flicker of fear
despite the calm she's trying to maintain.

You shake your head in reassurance, mustering as much empathy as you can in the
unwavering gaze you offer her. She responds with a faint, appreciative smile that doesn't
quite reach her eyes, but conveys her gratitude. "Okay. I'm ready."

With a breath you wish you could hold onto forever, you squeeze the trigger. Dr. Falkov's
body gently collapses over her desk.

turn to 42

21
The sweet, rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades slices through the tense air, the sound
growing louder as you catch the first glimpse of your ride out of this nightmare. It's a
promising silhouette against the treeline, growing clearer with every heartbeat. You and your
team stand ready, gear checked and weapons at the ready, for a swift extraction. The plan is
a touch-and-go; no time wasted—land, load, and lift off before the undead can close in.

But that brief hit of relief is shattered as the clamour of the approaching horde yanks your
attention back to the grim reality on the ground. They shuffle and lurch through the broken
doorway, a seemingly endless stream of gnashing teeth and grasping hands, spilling into the
open space with a hunger that's as relentless as it is terrifying.
"Positions!" you bark. "Let's keep these bastards at bay until we can get the hell out of here!"

ENCOUNTER
5 zombies
5 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

followed by

ENCOUNTER
5 zombies
3 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter
once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 12
22
After the last of the snarling bodies collapses to the ground, a stillness returns—a heavy,
fraught quiet as the echoes of gunfire fade away. You catch your breath, the pulse in your
ears slowing. The confrontation has shaken even the most steadfast among you, and doubt
lingers in the air like the residual scent of spent rounds.

Your team shares a look that doesn't need words; what they've witnessed defies
explanation. Hart's theory, once an absurd whisper in the chaos, now resonates with
unnerving plausibility. You recall the image of one of the attackers—gruesome and hollow—
its abdomen a macabre window to viscera that sagged and spilled with each lumbering step.

Zombies. The word feels foreign, misplaced in the real world where orders and objectives
have always been grounded in the tangible. Yet, with the evidence smeared in gore before
you, there's an undeniable logic to the label. You hate how it sounds in your head—
ridiculous, the stuff of late-night horror flicks and pulp novels—but a threat is a threat,
regardless of the name.

Until you gain a better understanding, until intel can offer a more palatable term to bundle
the horror into, 'zombie' becomes the working terminology. It's a mental handle, a way to
categorize these creatures of persistent, aggressive deathliness until you can formulate a
strategy to deal with them, a plan to stay alive.

Suddenly, thoughts of Bravo Team push forward with a pang of concern. They were meant
to secure the comms building and report back by now, yet the radio has remained ominously
silent—with the exception of the static that now fills your ear.

"Bravo Team, this is Alpha, do you read?" you speak into the radio, your voice calm but the
urgency concealed behind it palpable.

The waiting seconds stretch out, met only by the hiss of white noise, spitting back
nothingness. You let the static wash over you for a moment, taking in a deep, steadying
breath. Nguyen and her team are a formidable force; they've trained for contingencies, for
the unthinkable, for the hostile unknown.

You remind yourself that they carry not only weapons but the weight of their expertise.
They'll adapt, leveraging every skill at their disposal to survive, to fight, to carry out the
mission you've all been dealt. Yet, as you stand there, a silent prayer curls within you—a
wish that they remain unscathed, untouched by whatever affliction has gripped the base.

The waiting is the hardest part, but you can't allow it to paralyze you. With a resolute exhale,
you pocket the radio. You have to trust in Bravo's capabilities, their resourcefulness, just as
they would trust in yours.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 6 sidearm ammo
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 8 automatic ammo
6 - 4 sidearm ammo & 10 automatic ammo

if you have the SPLIT Narrative Event, turn to 57

otherwise, turn to 11
23
You advance through the building with deliberate steps, the evacuation plan offering a
beacon through the maze, though devoid of the finer details within. Navigating now by
instinct, you steer your team in the general direction of the lab; each corner turned met with
rigorous scrutiny.

Your hand signals bring the squad to an abrupt stop. A grim sight greets you—stains of
blood smeared across the floor and wall, a scattering of bullet casings telling a story of
violence and haste. Weapons readied and safeties off, you edge forward, searching for signs
of life or threat.

The trail of blood leads you on; a breached doorway comes into view, as does the disarray
of papers flung to the floor. Then, a sudden thump echoes from a room up ahead, snapping
every team member into high alert, weapons instinctively aimed toward the source of the
sound.

A man staggers from the doorway—military fatigues cloaking his frame, bloodied beyond
recognition, his head drooping with an unnatural heaviness. You can sense your team's
tension, the adrenaline surging, notably within Private Hart. Her medical instincts overpower
caution. "Oh my God," she breathes out, holstering her gun to approach the wounded figure.
"Let me take a look at you."

Her hand makes contact with the man's shoulder, and his response is immediate and
horrific. His head snaps up, revealing eyes devoid of humanity, his face a canvas of gore.
With an animalistic snarl, he throws himself at Hart, taking her to the ground. Teeth, stained
red, snap inches from her face.

Ghost reacts without hesitation, firing two shots into the assailant's shoulder. Yet the man is
barely affected, his focus solely on Hart. Trusting in your training, you hurl yourself into the
fray, yanking Hart free and striking the man with enough force to send him reeling.

But he comes back at you, unrelenting. You draw your sidearm, issuing a stark command to
halt that goes unheeded. Aiming for his leg, you fire—a last attempt to neutralize without
killing. But even a shot to the knee won't stop him.

"Fuck this," Ghost's words punctuate the air as another round from his rifle thuds into the
man's chest. Still, the bloodied figure advances with relentless ferocity.

No time for second-guessing, you take aim at his head and squeeze the trigger. The impact
sends him crumpling to the ground, and silence crashes down like a wave as he finally lies
motionless.

For a moment, you're frozen, the hall echoing with the last of the gunshots, the scent of
blood and gunpowder hanging thick in the air. Whatever this man has become, he's no
longer a threat.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 6 sidearm ammo
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 8 automatic ammo
6 - 4 sidearm ammo & 10 automatic ammo
turn to 19
24
You nod at Nguyen, a tight affirmation. "Keep hold of them. Tell me more about the guard
post," you prompt, eager for any detail that might lend context to the silent base.

"Deserted," she replies succinctly, her face etching the concern that matches your own. "But
someone must have been there recently. There was a warm cup of coffee on the desk.
Entrance barrier was open, power still on. Checked the logs, and there's a jeep missing."

The pieces join together in a disconcerting picture—a suddenly abandoned post, a hasty
exit, a vehicle unaccounted for. It paints a scenario ripe with urgency and unknown risks.
Fort Harrison, a place that should be secured and vigilant, now seems as welcoming as an
open house—an anomaly that sets your military instincts on edge.

Nevertheless, breaching a base as if it were undefended isn't the strategy you'd choose.
Stealth is the keystone of your approach, avoiding any unnecessary attention, even when it
seems as though there’s no one left to observe your movements.

You corral your squad and direct them back to the slice of the fence where Private Reed had
deployed his bolt cutters. "We'll enter as planned," you assert, "then head for our objectives."

turn to 29

25
In that imperceptible moment, where time slows and decisions are life or death, instinct
overrides hesitation. "Cover me!" You signal to Ghost, who nods with a grim set to his jaw as
you turn and bolt toward Hart.

The undead are a writhing mass of decay just feet from her now, but you dive into the fray
with a ferocity that startles them, momentarily. You grab Hart's arm, hauling her up with a
strength born of adrenaline and raw fear. Shots ring out providing just enough of a
distraction to keep the monsters at bay.

"Go, go, go!" you shout, half-dragging, half-carrying a limping Hart toward the helicopter
under a protective hail of gunfire.

You reach the chopper and, with one last Herculean effort, thrust Hart into the cabin before
climbing aboard yourself, the downdraft from the rotors stinging your eyes. Ghost and the
others pile in after, the door gunner laying down suppressing fire to stem the flow of the
oncoming horde.

As the helicopter begins to lift, your eyes sweep the ground below, and there it lies—the
hard drive—a small, inconspicuous piece of metal and plastic that carries the weight of your
mission, now slipping from view amidst the waves of the undead. It's a bitter pill to swallow,
the loss of such vital intel, but the living take precedence.

With a heavy heart, you realize it's lost forever, swallowed by the relentless sea of the dead
as the helicopter ascends, carrying you and the remnants of your team to safety, leaving
behind only the echoing moans of the lost.

if you have the MISSION Narrative Event, turn to 63

otherwise, turn to 65
26
Ghost and Angel maintain a watchful vigilance outside while you cautiously navigate into the
guard post, the barrel of your gun leading the way. The door creaks as it yields to the force,
and you step inside, immediately noting that the interior appears well-maintained, save for
the glaring absence of personnel. You direct your attention to the desk dominating the tiny
building to pore over the duty log, hoping it contains some clue to the situation at the base.

The log entries are sparse, with only the routine signatures of soldiers returning from leave
punctuating the pages. No recent visitors, no extraordinary occurrences—a dull litany that
sheds no light on the disquieting quiet outside. You replace the log, a sense of frustration
simmering when an unexpected warmth brushes against your hand. A coffee cup, its
contents still radiating heat—someone was here, and not long ago at that.

Beneath the cup lies a note, scrawled in haste and heavy with urgency: "Jones, been
hearing some weird shit since you went to do a sweep, I'm not staying around here, court
martial or not. I took a jeep. Left my keys in the lockbox." Your eyes dart across the room to
the unsealed key safe mounted on the wall, its open door confirming the hasty departure.
Within, a single set of keys dangles unassumingly.

You collect the keys, examining each one. They vary in size and purpose, without any labels
to guide their use. You slip them into your pocket with measured care and step out of the
guard post.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 1 first aid kit
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 12 sidearm ammo
6 - 6 sidearm ammo & 6 automatic ammo

On your exit, Ghost and Angel pivot to face you, their eyes sharp and expectant, ready for
what comes next. As you gather your thoughts, the mission objective burns clear in your
mind: find Doctor Falkov. That's priority one; everything else is secondary. However, another
concern begins to gnaw at you—the telling silence from Bravo Team. By now, you should
have received their check-in and a status update after securing the communications building.

"We're going in," you state decisively.

Add the Narrative Event ACCESS to your sheet.

turn to 54

27
Ghost steps forward, the raw edge of anger sharpening each of his words as he confronts
Dr. Falkov. His weapon, still drawn, underscores the urgency of his demand. "No more
secrets, no more dancing around the truth, Doc!" he barks fiercely, his glare as piercing as
the threat they face. "People are dead, and my teammates are missing. We're fighting
walking corpses at every damn corner, and you're worried about clearance levels? Start
talking, or so help me, classified is going to be the least of your worries. What the hell did
you people do here?"

Add the Narrative Event CONTROL to your sheet.

turn to 4
28
"Ghost," you call out quietly, eliciting his immediate attention. Ears pricked, he hears the
sound too—the troubling noise from the other side of the door—and with an unspoken
accord, he readies his weapon. His eyes, hard and resolute, meet yours for a fraction of a
second before he unleashes a barrage at the door.

The staccato of gunfire shreds through wood, sending splinters and shards scattering. The
violent symphony of destruction echoes around you until Ghost's clip runs empty and a
haunting silence crashes back down.

With strained anticipation, you and Ghost give the door another forceful shove. As it finally
swings open, a bitter realization unfolds before you. There, slumped against it, is Private
Reed—his presence the source of the resistance and the haunting sound.

He had been alive, wounded grievously, gripping the rudimentary tools of a basic first aid kit
in a desperate attempt to stitch his own torn flesh—without the mercy of anaesthetic, his
pain had spilled over into moans that you mistook for something else, something inhuman.

The moans that prompted Ghost's defensive reaction were actually the pained efforts of a
comrade trying to survive. Now, his body lay still, tragically punctured by bullets intended for
a different sort of enemy. The bright ephemera of medical supplies are scattered, rendered
useless by the all-too-final remedy.

As reality dawns and the gravity of the situation settles in, shock ripples through the team.
Angel, seeing the truth materialize in the grim evidence, is overcome. She turns away and
vomits.

In the midst of the chaos, with Hart reeling from the horror and the loss of Reed still raw, you
push through the grief, knowing there's a time to mourn and a time to act. Quickly, you scan
through Reed's belongings for anything useful and your hand closes around a pack of C4—a
stark reminder that the mission continues, the necessity clear. There's no moment to grieve
just yet; survival hinges on what you do next.

Add the Narrative Event FATE to your sheet.

The C4 is good for one use.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 1 first aid kit
4 - 2 bandages & 1 first aid kit
5 - 8 automatic ammo
6 - 10 automatic ammo & 3 bandages

turn to 11

29
With a last snip of Private Reed's bolt cutters, the chain links yield, creating a gap just wide
enough for your team to slip through undetected. Even as the metal parts, the silence seems
to press in around you, heightening the tension that hangs in the air.
Rodriguez's voice cracks the quiet. "Got eyes on the comms tower, Sarge," he reports,
peering in the direction of the imposing structure that houses the base's nerve centre for
communications.

You squint into the darkness, verifying the tower's silhouette against the night sky. "Ok,
Bravo, move in," you respond with a brisk nod. "Once the building is secured, check in
before restoring comms."

Nguyen acknowledges the order, and her response is succinct: "Understood." As Bravo
Team melds into the shadows, their forms gradually dissipating into the obscurity of the
night, you take a measured breath. For a moment, you allow yourself the luxury of standing
still, mentally mapping out the path forward. This silent interlude is as much about
preparation as it is about vigilance—a chance to align thoughts with action.

turn to 54

30
Breathing heavily, with the tang of battle still thick in the air, you take a moment to assess
the situation. You're on the rooftop with an unsecured stairway, a ladder that falls short, and
a team member exposed to the gnashing teeth of the undead below.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 4 automatic ammo
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 12 sidearm ammo
6 - 6 sidearm ammo & 6 automatic ammo

if the previous encounter was resolved in 3 turns or less, turn to 51

otherwise, turn to 59

31
"I'm sorry, Doctor," you say squarely, looking into Dr. Falkov's eyes, which are brimming with
a grave understanding. "We can't take the risk of bringing you with us. It's too great a threat
to the safety of my team."

Dr. Falkov gives a solemn nod, her expression one of resignation mixed with a trace of
honour. "I suppose it makes sense," she murmurs. "Like a captain going down with their
ship."

"Sergeant," says Hart, his voice tinged with conflict. "We can't just leave her here like this.
There has to be something we can do for her."

Dr. Falkov, grasping the gravity of the moment, bravely interjects, "Put me down. Don't let
me become one of those... creatures."

if you have the MERCY Narrative Event, turn to 20

otherwise, turn to 39

32
"Everyone just give me a minute," you say, your voice commanding calm in the midst of
chaos. Your team falls silent, watching, waiting. You close your eyes for a moment, drawing
in a deep breath, and let the world fade as you replay the mission in your mind's theatre.
The major's voice echoes as if from a distance: no extraction without Dr. Falkov and her
research—both, not one or the other. You weigh the risks, consider the variables. The doctor
is gone, but her knowledge, her life's work, lives on in the data stored securely on the hard
drive now in your possession.

You wrestle with the possibilities. Is the research alone enough to satisfy command? What if
it's not? Yet, the alternative—bringing a ticking time bomb in human form back with you—is
a gamble with stakes too high to justify.

Time's slipping by, each second a precious commodity you can't afford to waste. You need a
decision, and you need it now.

extract Doctor Falkov as planned, turn to 44

leave Doctor Falkov behind, turn to 31

33
With an agility born of countless drills, Ghost's hand whips to his sidearm. He shoves you
aside, levels the gun at Falkov, and in the space between heartbeats, fires. The doctor
collapses backward over her desk, hitting the floor with a thud that seems to echo through
your stunned mind.

Reality snaps back like a rubber band, and with reflexes honed in the field, you grab Ghost,
your hands clamped on his gear as you slam him against the nearest wall. "Stand down!
What the fuck, Ghost?" you roar, your voice a guttural growl of fury.

Unflinching, Ghost meets your eyes. "She was compromised. She would've put this whole
team six feet under without batting an eye," he insists, his tone ice-cold.

"That call wasn't yours to make! We had direct orders—Falkov and her research, nothing
less. The major was crystal," you snarl, your mind racing with the weight of the decision
Ghost had stolen from you.

"If we'd waited, there'd be no one left to extract," Ghost retorts, his voice sharp as a blade.
"We have what we came for. The research is secure. Time to call for evac—we'll sort the
rest out at debrief."

Your jaw clenches, your eyes locking with his. This confrontation with Ghost won't end here;
there's more to unpack, more to settle. But for now, you've got to pivot and press on. The
team's objectives have unravelled, communications with Bravo are a string of static, and
everything narrows down to one singular goal—reaching the roof for extraction. That's your
lifeline. That's your duty now.

turn to 42

34
A gunshot disrupts the stillness, time seems to suspend, a fleeting pause before your
training kicks in. Muscle memory dictates your response as your weapon instantly aligns with
the source of the sound, ready to eliminate the threat. But then, the tension is pierced by a
voice urging restraint.

"Wait, don't shoot," calls out a voice, strained but controlled. The command resounds in the
fraught silence, every syllable sharp with urgent clarity.
"Show yourself," you order, your finger disciplined against the trigger. "Slowly."

"I'm sorry," comes the sheepish reply, imbued with a tremor of genuine alarm. "I thought you
were one of those monsters." From the shadows, a woman emerges, her approach cautious
and deliberate. Her hands are raised in a universal gesture of surrender, one hand
awkwardly clutching a pistol.

"I'm Lena Falkov, the head researcher here," she introduces herself, and as she steps into
full view, you take her in with a swift, assessing gaze.

Dr. Falkov is a woman of middling years, her lab coat smeared with streaks of something
dark—whether it's dirt, grime, or something worse, it's a telltale sign of the chaos she's
navigated. Strands of her chestnut hair have escaped what was once a tidy bun, framing a
face marked by intelligence and a fatigue that speaks to hours, if not days, of enduring
nightmare. Despite the frazzle and the clear signs of distress, there's an unmistakable air of
authority about her, the posture of someone accustomed to leadership within the sterile walls
of science.

"Dr. Falkov," you say, the edge in your voice softening as the threat subsides and you begin
to holster your weapon. "What the hell happened here? What are these monsters?"

There's a moment where a shadow of regret crosses her features before she rights herself
to professional decorum. "I'm sorry," she responds, her hands lowering slightly but still
maintaining a posture of surrender. In her eyes flickers the turmoil of calamity tangled with
an ingrained duty to secrecy. "The research on this base is classified."

Her reply, expected as it might be within the confines of military protocol and secret
experimentation, does little to quell the pressing questions that the situation demands.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 2 bandages
4 - 1 first aid kit
5 - 2 bandages & 1 first aid kit
6 - 1 field surgery kit

push her for an answer, turn to 40

don't push for more information, turn to 27

35
The realisation hits you like a jolt—the C4 from Private Reed's pack is still with you. With a
renewed sense of opportunity, you hand over the explosives to Ghost, who understands the
assignment without a word. His experienced hands begin the setup, placing charges with
precision.

You glance at your team. "Once this thing goes, we're going to have to be quick," you
remind them. "The noise will bring everything on this base down on us."

Everyone pulls back, seeking what scant shelter they can find around the side of the
armoury. The briefest pause, a deep breath, and then the door is blown clear from its hinges
in a thunderous eruption that punches through the eerie quiet of the compound.
"Move in, now," you command, your voice cutting across the reverberations as you lead the
charge.

turn to 13

36
Treading lightly, you guide your team through the hallways, every step measured to keep the
noise down. With eyes peeled and ears tuned to the slightest whisper of danger, you press
on.

As you round the bend, your torchlight glances off a sign affixed to the wall. The words 'Roof
Access' glint ominously in the artificial light, a beacon of hope amidst the darkness. Your
heart quickens at the sight, knowing that just beyond that door lies the stairwell up—the very
thing that could spell your escape from this nightmare.

With a cautious hand, you signal your team, pointing towards the door that promises a path
to safety above. Now is not the time for rash moves; every action from here on out could
mean the difference between life and death.

if you have the FATE Narrative Event, turn to 16

otherwise, turn to 7

37
As the clamour of the advancing undead crescendos in the background, you bark out an
order that cuts through the din. "Get this door open," you shout firmly to Ghost, who
immediately sets to work on the locked barrier before you.

You and Hart hastily assume cover, your bodies angled for defence, your weapons trained
on the approach. Every muscle is tensed for action, ready to repel the insidious tide of the
undead that swarms toward your position.

ENCOUNTER
5 zombies
4 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter
You do not get an attack bonus from Ghost in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 6

38
You and your team edge closer to the administration building's rear entrance. You scan the
surroundings, alert to the smallest hint of movement or menace.

The door, slightly ajar, beckons with an ominous creak and the lazy dance of flickering light
from within. With a curt nod to Ghost, you silently communicate the need for caution. He
understands, gently pushing the door further open with the barrel of his weapon, allowing a
clearer view of the chaos inside.

The interior is harrowing. Blood smeared along the walls tells of struggles past, while the
jumble of overturned furniture speaks to the pandemonium that must have swept this part of
the building. Yet, there is a stillness now, no immediate sign of the animated corpses you've
come to dread, although the sound of them emanates from further in.
After a moment's assessment, you motion for the team to follow you in. Step by cautious
step, you cross the threshold, the dim light within swallowing the shapes of your squad. The
last person through pulls the door shut with a soft click, securing it against the horrors that
roam the base.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - nothing
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 6 sidearm ammo & 6 automatic ammo
6 - 12 automatic ammo

turn to 8

39
Ghost moves forward, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. His sidearm is
poised in his steady hand. You watch, a solemn observer, as Dr. Falkov reaches for the
weapon, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal barrel. With a resolve born of
desperation, she guides it to her own forehead.

"Do it," she urges, her voice steady with a courage that belies the situation's grim nature.

But in a surprising turn, Ghost gently withdraws the gun from her grasp, and he places it on
the desk beside her with a solemn finality.

"Do it yourself," he tells her, his tone one of derision. "You started this mess. Now you finish
it."

turn to 42

40
"Look, Doctor," you start, expelling a breath steeped in frustration and urgency. The strain of
the situation tightens your voice. "Sorry doesn't cut it right now. We've been dodging death
since we set foot on base. My team's in the dark, Bravo Team's status is a damn mystery,
and we're up to our necks in what looks like a zombie apocalypse. I need the full picture if
we're going to survive this, much less pull off an extraction. Classified or not, spill it—what
are we dealing with?"

turn to 4

41
"Fuck," you mutter under your breath, eyeing the door with its impenetrable lock. "No way
we're getting in there."

if you have C4 and want to use it, turn to 35

otherwise, turn to 18

42
"We need to get out of here," you say with clear determination. "Hart, take the hard drive."

Swiftly, Hart grabs the hard drive, finding a secure spot for it amidst the vital medical gear
she carries.
"We've got to get to the roof and call for extraction. Ghost, put a call out to Bravo team." You
hope against hope that anyone left from Bravo team is alive to hear the message and can
make it to the designated rendezvous point. Without waiting, you lead the way out of the
doctor's office, pressing deeper into the building's interior.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 6 sidearm ammo
4 - 1 first aid kit
5 - 2 bandages & 6 sidearm ammo
6 - 8 automatic ammo

turn to 36

43
Quickly, you retrieve the set of keys from your pocket and start trying them in the lock of the
armoury door. Each key that slides in raises anticipation, and with each failed attempt, a little
bit of hope falls away.

But you persist, with the knowledge that what lies behind this door could tip the scales in
your favour. One key after another, you test and turn until—one yields that telltale click of
success. A sense of triumph washes over you as the lock disengages and the door swings
open.

turn to 13

44
"Listen up," you declare, your voice firm, brokering no room for argument. "The Doctor
comes with us. Our orders were clear, and there's no evac without her." Turning to address
Dr. Falkov directly, leaving no trace of doubt. "Doctor, you need to let us know the instant
something's not right. Hot, dizzy, itchy—anything. It doesn't matter. The second you feel a
change, you tell us. Bringing you along is a risk to every one of us."

"Understood," replies Dr. Falkov, her acknowledgment crisp and solemn.

Add the Narrative Event MISSION to your sheet.

turn to 42

45
Your hands move quickly, driven by desperation as you reach into your pocket for the
unmarked keys retrieved from the guard post. The encroaching moans serve as a macabre
timer, urging haste as you flip through the cold metal, hoping against hope for a match.

Key after key meets the lock, each attempt a fleeting surge of hope that fizzles into anxious
frustration as the lock refuses to yield. The grating sounds of the undead amplify around you,
their presence a looming spectre that threatens to spill over into violence at any moment.

Then, a small victory amidst the chaos—your perseverance pays off as a key slides into
place with an almost imperceptible click. The tension releases as you turn it, feeling the
tumblers give way, and the door swings open to welcome you and your team to momentary
safety.
You usher them through quickly, all too aware of the precious seconds slipping away. As the
last member crosses the threshold, you swing the door back with a forceful motion, the
heavy thud of its closure acting as a barrier to the horrors outside.

turn to 34

46
With Ghost by your side, you plant your feet and commit your combined strength to one last
concerted push against the door. The resistance breaks, and the wooden barrier swings
open, revealing not another assailant, but a wounded ally—Private Reed from Bravo Team,
his uniform dark with blood from a gruesome abdominal wound.

Angel doesn't hesitate; she's beside Reed in an instant, her hands applying direct pressure
to the life-threatening gash. Her medical training rolls out smoothly, a natural response
honed by practice and necessity.

"What happened?" you press, your voice taut with the need to understand.

Between laboured breaths, Reed pieces together a jagged narrative, his words punctuated
by pain. "We were overrun as soon as we left you guys," he manages to say. "Dozens of
these things, these monsters, I don't even know what to call them." A violent cough
interrupts him, and when it subsides, a trickle of blood follows, painting his lips with a stark
crimson line.

"I got separated from Sarge and Viper," he continues, his voice weakening. "They were
running to the comms building, but I couldn't keep up." His eyes flicker with the memory,
haunted by the chaos that ripped their team apart. "Managed to get in here, but not before
one of them bastards took a piece outta me."

Angel's gaze says it all; the silent communication of her eyes to yours reveals a bitter
prognosis that words would only tarnish. Private Reed, his life's clock winding down with
each shallow breath, seems to grasp the unspoken dialogue in the room and accepts his
fate with the courage of a soldier making his final stand.

"I've got some C4 in my pack. And I guess you should take this," Reed urges, a strained
gesture pushing his shotgun in your direction. His eyes lock with yours, showing a mix of
fear and pleading that needs no voice to convey its depth. "Sarge, you're gonna think I'm
crazy. But these things..." his breath hitches, "They're zombies."

The admission is one you've mulled over yourselves, a label that finds a chilling confirmation
in his words. "That's what we're going with at the moment too," you acknowledge, a sober
realism lining your response.

Reed's next request is borne of sheer terror, a plea to retain his humanity even in death. "In
the movies, you get bit, you're gonna be one of them. I don't wanna be like that. I don't
wanna come back, but I don't know if I can..." his words trail off. You both know what needs
to be done.

The unspoken plea hanging between you is a weight you never anticipated shouldering. To
grant such a request is contrary to every instinct—to protect life, to preserve your team. But
this isn't the enemy; this is a brother-in-arms facing a horror beyond human reckoning.

If you honour Reed's request, remove 1 sidearm ammunition, and add the Narrative Event
MERCY to your sheet.
If you leave Reed to do it himself, add the Narrative Event FATE to your sheet.

If you take the shotgun, it will replace your current automatic weapon. The shotgun adds +3
to attack rolls, but automatic ammo use is doubled when using it to attack.

The C4 is good for one use.

turn to 11

47
The sight of the barricade, chaotically stacked in front of the lab doors—a clear intention to
seal off whatever lay beyond—resonates with a foreboding sense of purpose. Whoever
erected this barrier had been desperate to prevent entry, or perhaps escape, from the other
side. The realization shifts your strategy, compelling you to search for a less direct,
potentially less hazardous path.

Turning to update your team on the new plan, the absence of one member slices through the
moment with immediate urgency. Only Ghost stands with you; Private Hart has vanished
from view.

"Have you seen Angel?" you ask Ghost, your voice spiked with concern.

"She was right here," he replies, his own confusion mirroring yours.

Your call for Angel pierces the heavy air. "Angel! Private Hart, sound off!"

Her voice reels you in, a beacon from around an unnoticed bend in the corridor. "I'm over
here," Hart responds, a trace of subdued excitement in her tone. She's discovered another
route, a door that stands apart from the rest.

As you approach, you notice the door strained against its frame, the wood convex with the
pressure of something substantial on its opposite side. The dire implication dawns too late
for the warning to form on your lips.

Hart, driven by the guiding force of your mission, grasps the handle and pulls. The door
swings open and a tide of the dead spills forth, a grotesque cascade that nearly engulfs her.

Without a second thought, you surge forward, snatching her away from the clawing hands of
the undead assailants. Her narrow escape from their reach is a hair's breadth from
disaster—another heartbeat, and she would have been dragged into their ravenous midst.

Adrenaline screams through your veins as you reassess the situation, your quick reaction
saving Hart from immediate peril but plunging you both into the frenetic outbreak of a fight
against the surging horde. With split-second reflexes, you shout orders, ready the team, and
prepare to hold the line, ensuring the fallen cannot claim another life this day.

ENCOUNTER

5 zombies
3 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 9

48
"I got a bad feeling about this," you murmur, the weight of your intuition pressing down like a
physical force. "Let's scope out the perimeter before we head in. If there are hostiles inside,
we might spot a trail of their intrusion somewhere along the line."

Nguyen, always by the book, offers a measured response without missing a beat. "With
respect," she begins, her voice steady and imbued with the subtle firmness that comes from
years of service. "Our mission parameters were clear. Finding evidence falls outside our
current scope. I have visual on the comm building," she says with a nod toward the structure
in question, standing resolute against the night sky. "Bravo Team and I are going in."

both teams will check the perimeter, turn to 58

Bravo will proceed with their objective, turn to 61

49
Bounding up the stairs two steps at a time, you heave yourself and the team through the
doorway onto the roof. Instantly, the crisp morning breeze greets you, a stark contrast to the
stifling air inside. A faint blush of dawn tickles the horizon, whispering the promise that you'll
be out of this hellish place soon.

You make a quick attempt to secure the door behind you, but the stubborn thing won't
budge. In your desperate ascent, the latch was damaged beyond repair, and now the door
hangs ajar, an open invitation to the horrors below. There's no time to dwell on it—you have
to move fast.

You grab the radio, your voice steady despite the chaos, "Requesting extraction. Now."

"Arrival at LZ in 10 minutes," crackles the assurance from HQ. Major Carter's voice comes
through, asking, "Objective status? Do you have the doctor and the hard drive?"

The urgency in your voice betrays no room for discussion. "Just come and get us," you reply
curtly. "Out."

Poised to switch off the radio, a sudden crackle halts your hand. "Anyone there? This is
Rodriguez."

Overwhelmed with relief, you respond, "Rodriguez! What's your status?"

His voice, strained and anxious, fills your ear, "I'm pinned outside admin. Swarming with
those... things. No clear path."

Then, from the edge of the roof, Ghost calls out, "I see him!" Rushing to his side, you catch
sight of Rodriguez, a small figure signalling frantically below.

Right where he's pointing, your gaze lands on the retractable ladder. "Get it down, now!" you
bark at Ghost.

Efficiently, Ghost releases the ladder and it cascades down—except it shudders to a halt, a
frustrating 10 feet above the ground. Rodriguez is still beyond reach, but at least now there's
a fighting chance for him to join you. The clock is ticking, and every second counts until
extraction.
"I can reach him," Ghost declares with a decisive edge in his tone. Without a second
thought, he swings onto the ladder and begins his careful descent, laser-focused on the
goal.

Reaching the end of the ladder, Ghost masterfully repositions himself, gripping the final rung
with locked arms. He wraps his legs around the ladder for stability, extending his reach as
far as physically possible towards Rodriguez below. His hands hover, ready for the critical
moment of contact.

But as the tension mounts for what could be a daring rescue, the brief moment of hope is
abruptly shattered. The undead, drawn by the living, have relentlessly trailed up the stairs
and now spill out of the door you couldn't secure. The sound of their hungry moans fills the
air, a cacophony of dread matched only by the rushed clamour of your team as they ready
themselves to fend off the onslaught.

ENCOUNTER
4 zombies
4 metres away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter
You do not get an attack bonus from Ghost in this encounter

once you have resolved this encounter, turn to 30

50
Your pulse hammers in your ears, every instinct you possess now sharply focused on the
hard drive slipping from view among the chaos. Hart is down—a comrade, a warrior—but the
mission's success hinges on that nondescript piece of hardware.

"Cover me!" you command, the urgency in your voice as palpable as the tension in the air.
You fixate on the hard drive, knowing what's at stake. You sprint towards it, plunging into the
realm of death with a single-minded drive to rescue the objective.

Gunfire erupts around you as your teammates lay down their lives to suppress the
encroaching horde. The deafening chorus of shots fired blurs with the guttural cries of the
undead.

You skid to the ground, fingers stretching, grasping the hard drive just as the grotesque
fingers of death reach for you. With the mission's lifeline clutched in your hand, you pivot and
dash back towards the chopper, the screams of the undead—and Hart—filling the void
behind you.

As you leap into the helicopter, securing the data with shaking hands, you can't allow
yourself to look back. The stark reality of the situation crashes down as the pilot shouts,
"We're clear! Hold on!" and wrenches the chopper into the sky.

You brace against the swell of motion, a heavy weight settling in your chest for the
teammate left behind. Hart's sacrifice, now intermingled with the sounds of those forsaken
by humanity, is a burden you'll carry beyond this day as the chopper breaks free from the
grasp of the undead.

if you have the MISSION Narrative Event, turn to 63

otherwise, turn to 64
51
You make a beeline for the ladder, your boots pounding against the ground, heart racing to
catch a glimpse of Ghost and Rodriguez's situation. There, you spot Rodriguez, giving it
everything he's got, leaping into the air, his fingertips barely grazing Ghost's outstretched
hands.

With every second counting, you slide into action above Ghost, who's perched precariously
at the end of the ladder.

"Need a hand?" you shout, bracing yourself against the ladder's sides.

Ghost nods, his focus unwavering. "Keep me steady!"

Grasping the cold metal, you anchor yourself firmly, providing the counterweight Ghost
needs. You lean back, allowing him to stretch even closer towards Rodriguez's desperate
reach. The ground below is a churning pit of undead fury, too close for comfort.

"Let's do this, Rodriguez!" you yell, your voice tinged with adrenaline.

Rodriguez's face is a mask of exertion and raw, unyielding resolve. With a guttural yell, he
powers into one monumental leap, arms outstretched to their limits. Their hands meet—
fingers locking in a vise-like grip. Ghost's biceps bulge with the effort as he hauls Rodriguez
upward, determination doing the work that raw muscle alone could not. The ghouls below
claw at the air, mere inches from Rodriguez's boots as they flail wildly.

A collective groan rises from the ghouls below, their prize slipping from their grasp. You
strain against the ladder, feeling the burn in your shoulders, but the threat below fuels your
strength.

With a final, powerful heave, Rodriguez's upper body crests the edge of the roof. You and
Ghost work in perfect unison, dragging him over the side to safety. The three of you
collapse, gasping for air—alive, against the odds.

Rodriguez catches his breath and then offers a nod paired with a wry, exhausted smile.
"Couldn't have done it without you," he breathes out, acknowledging the teamwork.

Ghost's voice cuts through the panting, "We stick together. No one gets left behind."

Rodriguez doubles any attack bonuses you get from your squad.

turn to 21
52
The tension of the corridor behind you dissipates like mist, your team's measured steps
replaced by the relief that washes over each of you now that the menacing gauntlet is behind
you.

You approach the lab door. With one hand resting on the handle, you signal for readiness.
Your team instinctively falls into formation, weapons poised, bodies tensed for whatever may
come.

You may search this area by rolling 1d6:

1 - nothing
2 - nothing
3 - 6 sidearm ammo
4 - 8 sidearm ammo
5 - 8 automatic ammo
6 - 4 sidearm ammo & 10 automatic ammo

turn to 34

53
Bursting into Dr. Falkov's office, you let the door crash closed with a resounding thud. Your
breaths come in quick, sharp pulls as your voice cuts the air like a knife. "What the hell was
that, Doctor?" you demand, locking eyes with her. "You just threw us to the wolves out there!
From this moment on, you don't make a move without my go-ahead. Do I make myself
crystal clear?"

"I—I understand, I'm very sorry," stammers Dr. Falkov, her composure unraveling under the
weight of your glare.

"Time's burning, people," interrupts Ghost, his words dripping with urgency. "We need to
extract, like, yesterday."

"Hold on. I need the hard drive," Dr. Falkov insists, squeezing past you to her desk, where a
small wall safe awaits her skilled manipulation. As the safe's door groans open, revealing
neatly stacked folders and mysterious vials filled with unknown liquids, curiosity overpowers
you. "What's all this?" you question sharply.

"Classified," she answers curtly, without missing a beat, as she turns to you holding the hard
drive.

"And... what is that?" Hart asks, pointing at the doctor. The room suddenly snaps to
attention, all eyes swivelling to Dr. Falkov. There, stark against the pale of her skin, is the
unmistakable sight of a bloody gash, slowly seeping through the sleeve of her lab coat.

Ghost's exclamation slices through the air like a warning siren. "She's been fucking bitten!"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut as Dr. Falkov recounts the ordeal, her voice a
tremor of shock and resignation. "It all happened so fast," she explains, her gaze distant.
"They swarmed through the door, and before I could even react—its hands were on me. I
screamed for help, but it was lost in the roar of gunfire."

"And what exactly is our next move?" you ask.

The situation hangs in a perilous balance as Ghost states the grimly obvious. "We know the
score, Sarge. She's gonna turn into one of them. Straight from her own mouth."

Hart moves in, authoritative and composed. "Let me take a look at it." Leaning in close, you
and Hart inspect the wound. The sight that greets you is grim—a mass of darkened tissue,
with black-veined paths creeping up her arm from the savage bite.

"There's nothing you can do," Falkov murmurs, her voice hollow.

Your mind races, fixating on the grim irony. "You developed this thing," you tell her, a mix of
anger and desperation in your voice. "Is there no cure?"

Falkov's response comes laden with regret. "We never meant for it to get to this point," she
admits. "A cure wasn't part of the plan."

Then Ghost locks eyes with you, resolution etched into every line of his face. "We do have
one option," he says, a hard edge to his tone. "It's time to deal with this, Sarge." You can see
in his stare that he's already steeled himself for the unthinkable.

if you have the CONTROL Narrative Event, turn to 33

otherwise, turn to 32

54
You survey the layout of the base with a tactical eye. The vehicle garage is the closest
structure, spanning a considerable area to your left—it’s the heart of mechanized hustle
when operational, now just a silent shell. Your gaze shifts, lingering on the sleeping quarters
that line the path beyond. Beds, once filled with resting soldiers, are likely empty, adding to
the growing disquiet.

It's the research that preoccupies your thoughts, however. Doctor Falkov, as mentioned by
Major Carter, would require a lab, some dedicated space teeming with scientific endeavour.
Squinting against the low light, you study each building, searching for telltale signs—a
ventilation system more sophisticated than normal, reinforced doors, maybe even hazard
warnings—all potential markers of a research facility.

Yet, amidst the ordinary facades, it's the helipad atop the nearest building that seizes your
attention. Its location is prime, and such features are often adjacent to nerve centres like the
administration building—the kind of place where Doctor Falkov's work, and perhaps the
woman herself, may be found.

The decision to investigate there cements itself with practical logic; even if the doctor isn’t
present, any intel on the base’s layout would streamline the hunt. Ghost, ever the astute
operator, reads your intent. A small nod is all the signal he needs, and he takes point without
a word spoken between you.

Private Hart aligns with your pace, and together, you form an advance, cautiously moving
toward the administration building.

turn to 10

55
As you lead the rest of Alpha Team along the edge of the base, every sense is stretched to
its limit, scanning for irregularities. The fence passes your inspection without a hint of
tampering—an unspoken relief, yet it does little to ease your concern. The unnatural quiet
envelops your team; no chatter, no distant rumble of generators—just the rhythmic crunch of
boots against earth in quiet harmony, the soundtrack to your meticulous progress.

Completing the round, you come upon the main entrance. You signal Alpha Team to halt, a
silent command met with immediate compliance. The guard post, usually a beacon of order
and security, stands eerily abandoned. The raised barrier serves as an unwelcome
invitation, an open gateway that runs contrary to protocol. It’s a stark red flag, and your mind
reels with the implications.

Where are the guards that should be stationed here, vigilant and watchful? An uneasy
tension filters through the team at the sight. This anomaly is precisely what you'd hoped not
to find—a concrete sign that the stillness blanketing the base might be a symptom of
something gravely amiss.

You take a moment to observe, taking in every detail that could provide insight into the
current state of affairs. The silence from Bravo Team's progress within gnaws at your
patience, intensifying the need for information, for reassurance that the operation can
proceed as planned. But first, you must reconcile the absence of the guards with the
possibility that what awaits inside is far from routine. Your next steps must be calculated with
the utmost caution.

enter the base, turn to 54

search the guard post, turn to 26

56
You move swiftly toward the armoury, your team adopting a close-knit formation. Every
sense is heightened, the air thick with the tension of potential threats that could emerge at
any moment. At the centre of the group, you keep Dr. Falkov shielded; her safety is
paramount to the mission’s success.

Reaching the sturdy door of the armoury, you instantly recognize its robust nature. The
reinforced structure and the heavy-duty lock signal a clear message: this door was designed
to withstand siege and sabotage. A forced entry would be futile.

if you have the ACCESS Narrative Event, turn to 43

otherwise, turn to 41

57
Each step you take is imbued with heightened caution as you systematically clear the
remaining rooms branching off from the bloodstained corridor. Time seems to stretch thin,
drawn out by the tension that clings to your squad like an unwanted shadow. The offices,
once alive with the hum of military efficiency and civilian diligence, now stand as silent
witnesses to the nightmare that has unfolded within their walls.

Room by room, you check for potential threats, each clearing met with a collective sigh of
respite when they reveal nothing but emptiness. It's a grim juxtaposition—the routine of
military orderliness against the backdrops of disarray that hint at the pandemonium that must
have reigned.

With one final door standing between your team and the next section of the building, a quiet
optimism edges within you. This is the threshold that leads closer to the lab—closer to
finding Doctor Falkov and getting out of here.
You reach for the door, your hand steady, despite everything. Resistance meets your initial
push—a barricade, or maybe something worse. Summoning greater force, you push more
aggressively, determined to breach the barrier. That's when the moan reaches your ears,
loud and guttural.

give the door a final shove, turn to 46

shoot through the door, turn to 28

58
Trusting your instincts has always been more than mere habit—it's a creed by which you've
safely navigated countless missions. The objective is crystal clear: secure Doctor Falkov.
But the incessant whisper of caution in your ear won't be silenced; the safety of the entire
team is your charge, a responsibility that you carry with every command decision. And right
now, that means ensuring a full perimeter check before advancing into the unknown.

Nguyen senses the resolve in your stance. "Fine," she concedes with a pragmatic tone. It's a
simple acknowledgement, a soldier’s understanding of the necessity for precaution. "Bravo
Team will go this way; you take the other, and we'll meet in the middle."

You can almost hear the unspoken addendum to her agreement—a future debrief where this
decision will be dissected and discussed. But for now, the matter is settled, and with mutual
respect still intact, you each lead your respective teams into the enveloping silence.

Alpha Team falls into a familiar formation as you embark on your route around the fence line.
A ghostly stillness wraps around you, and you can't help being rattled by it. The soft crunch
of boots on grass is a stark reminder that you and your team are alone in this—no friendly
banter, no distant call of the night guard, just the soundtrack of systematic search undulating
with the hills and hollows of the base’s outskirts.

Nothing seems amiss as you press forward, but the lack of signs only adds to the tension.
You scrutinize every shadow, every potential hiding spot, as you navigate the terrain with the
vigilance of a guardian. Finally, you rendezvous with Bravo Team, approaching from the
opposite direction.

"Anything?" you inquire, your gaze scanning the members of Bravo Team for any sign of
revelation.

Nguyen steps forward with a ring of keys that glints faintly in the subdued light. "We found
these in an unlocked box at the entrance guard post," she reports. "Nobody there; looks like
they left in a hurry."

Alpha Team will take the keys, turn to 62

Bravo Team will keep the keys, turn to 24

59
You make a beeline for the ladder, your boots pounding against the ground, heart racing to
catch a glimpse of Ghost and Rodriguez's situation. There, you spot Rodriguez, giving it
everything he's got, leaping into the air, his fingertips barely grazing Ghost's outstretched
hands. Ghost, skin slick with sweat and determination on his face, strains downward, but
he's already on the last rung; there's simply nowhere else to go.

With every second counting, you slide into action above Ghost, who's perched precariously
at the end of the ladder.
"Need a hand?" you shout, bracing yourself against the ladder's sides.

Ghost nods, his focus unwavering. "Keep me steady!"

Grasping the cold metal, you anchor yourself firmly, providing the counterweight Ghost
needs. You lean back, allowing him to stretch even closer towards Rodriguez's desperate
reach. The ground below is a churning pit of undead fury, too close for comfort.

"Let's do this, Rodriguez!" you yell, your voice tinged with adrenaline.
Rodriguez's face is a mask of exertion and raw, unyielding resolve. With a guttural yell, he
powers into one monumental leap, arms outstretched to their limits. Their hands meet—
fingers locking in a vice-like grip. Ghost's biceps bulge with the effort as he hauls Rodriguez
upward, determination doing the work that raw muscle alone could not. The ghouls below
claw at the air, mere inches from Rodriguez's boots as they flail wildly.

Your grip on the ladder feels like the only certain thing in a world turned upside down. You're
holding onto Ghost, who in turn is holding onto Rodriguez with a grip that could bend steel.
Below, the horde of ghouls seethes with hungry anticipation, as though sensing the
weakness in your position.

The ladder creaks ominously, each groan a stark reminder that it was never meant to
support the weight of three men locked in a desperate struggle. Ghost, with his arms
extended, tries to pull Rodriguez up, but Rodriguez's weight combined with the pull from the
creatures below creates a dangerous fulcrum that threatens to send all three of you into the
ravenous mass.

“Guys, we can’t hold it!” you yell over the cacophony, panic edging your voice. “Ghost, you
have to—”

You choke on the words, but you know what needs to be said. It's a decision you never
thought you'd have to make, one no one should ever be tasked with. Your heart pounds
against your ribcage, each beat a deafening drum that drowns out reason.

“Ghost, listen to me!” your voice breaks through the turmoil with vehement urgency. “If you
don't let him go, we're all going down!”

Ghost's eyes, wild with the will to survive yet burdened with the weight of the choice, meet
yours. A silent conversation happens in that look, a moment of clarity amidst the chaos. He
understands what's at stake; the soldier's calculation of sacrifice and survival.

Rodriguez, sensing the shift in tone, clenches his jaw and shouts over the noise, “Do what
you gotta do! Don't let them take all of us!”

For a heartbeat, time stands still, and the gravity of the situation settles on your shoulders
like a leaden shroud. Then, with a gut-wrenching nod, Ghost lets go of his hold on
Rodriguez.

Rodriguez falls backward into the abyss, his expression one of defiance to the very end. He
disappears into the mass of clawing hands and gnashing teeth, a hero's sacrifice that carves
a hole in your gut.

You pull Ghost up, the weight suddenly bearable but the loss insurmountable. Both of you
know the cost of survival this day, and as the two of you regain your footing atop the ladder,
leading to the safety of the roof, the silence speaks volumes.
turn to 21
60
Stepping back into the precarious uncertainty of the base, you reach for the radio clipped
securely to your gear. The static crunch of the channel fills the brief silence as you attempt to
connect with Bravo Team. "Bravo, come in Bravo. Have located target, moving to secondary
objective, over."

The radio crackles in response, but only static answers your call—a taunting white noise that
speaks volumes about the situation. You release the transmit button with a tight jaw, the
absence of a reply a heavy weight in the pit of your stomach.

Mentally, you note down to try reaching them again once you're in a position to extract,
leaving a small space for hope amidst the tension. For now, it's back to the mission at hand,
carrying the silent wish that Bravo Team is out there, somewhere, still fighting.

turn to 5

61
You digest Nguyen’s words, aware that while you both carry the same rank, the onus of
command for this operation squarely rests on your shoulders. The choice falls to you and,
with it, the weight of potential consequences. To insist that the teams stay together to sweep
the perimeter would be to issue an order. However, Nguyen's point echoes in your mind; this
meticulous search was never part of your initial brief.

Despite that, your gut wrenches with a soldier's sixth sense—years of experience that has
taught you the value of trusting those instincts. There’s a gnawing thought that something
could be lurking in the shadows, and ensuring the perimeter is clear would undoubtedly ease
that tension.

You come to a decision, your resolve strengthening. "Okay, Bravo team, move in and secure
the comms building. Once inside, check in with me—we're on channel two," you command,
offering a firm nod to emphasize your instructions.

You watch as Bravo Team seamlessly melds with the darkness, swiftly making their way
toward their objective with disciplined movements. Once they vanish from sight, you signal
Ghost and Angel to follow you. Together, you start a cautious circumnavigation of the fence
line, fully alert and prepared for any signs that might confirm your uneasy premonition. Each
step is calculated, each glance a search for the reassurance you hope the silent perimeter
will provide.

Add the Narrative Event SPLIT to your sheet.

turn to 55

62
"We'll take them," you hold out your hand and take the keys from Nguyen. "Tell me more
about the guard post," you prompt, eager for any detail that might lend context to the silent
base.

"Deserted," she replies succinctly, her face etching the concern that matches your own. "But
someone must have been there recently. There was a warm cup of coffee on the desk.
Entrance barrier was open, power still on. Checked the logs, and there's a jeep missing."

The pieces join together in a disconcerting picture—a suddenly abandoned post, a hasty
exit, a vehicle unaccounted for. It paints a scenario ripe with urgency and unknown risks.
Fort Harrison, a place that should be secured and vigilant, now seems as welcoming as an
open house—an anomaly that sets your military instincts on edge.

"Take Bravo Team and enter through the fence. We'll head to the entrance and enter
through there. Check-in once you've secured the communications building."

With a nod, Nguyen pivots, setting Bravo Team into motion. Their figures quickly become
one with the night; you're left with the sounds of your own squad preparing to advance.

Leading your team along the trail Bravo Team has just traversed, you make your way to the
main entrance. As you progress beyond the checkpoint, there's an unshakable feeling of
entering the belly of the beast—a place that should be bustling with the vigour of military life,
now desolate and steeped in silence. With your mind firmly affixed on the mission, you push
the unease to the periphery; Doctor Falkov is somewhere inside, and your duty is to locate
her.

Add the Narrative Event ACCESS to your sheet.

turn to 54

63
The rotors of the helicopter whir with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.
You glance at Dr. Falkov, whose laboured breaths betray the severity of her condition. Her
hunched figure is a ticking time bomb—a once-brilliant mind now on the cusp of succumbing
to the infection that has ravaged the base.

In the tight confines of the aircraft, tension coils like a spring. The pilot's voice crackles
through the intercom, instructing everyone to brace for the quick ride back to base, but
there's an undertone of unease that even the static can't conceal.

The moment unravels in an instant. Falkov's rasping breath turns to a growl, her eyes
clouding over with the telltale haze of the undead.

Knowing it's too dangerous to fire a round in the confined space of the helicopter, you pull
out your melee weapon.

ENCOUNTER
1 zombie
1 metre away
You may not attempt stealth in this encounter
You do not get an attack bonus from your squad in this encounter
You have one attempt at this encounter

if you are successful, turn to 67

if not, turn to 66

64
The helicopter cuts through the sky, a steadfast carrier of both the living and the weight of
loss. Back at the base, your safe return is undercut by a vivid collection of what-ifs and if-
onlys. The rawness of the retreat is palpable; your team is alive, the mission deemed a
success due to the retrieval of the hard drive, but the absence of the doctor—and Hart—
casts a long shadow over the victory.
In the confines of the chopper, each of you is lost in thought, the pall of Hart's untimely
demise settling over the cabin. It was a cruel twist of fate: a misstep, a stumble, then chaos.
There were no last stands nor final heroic gestures—only the gut-wrenching reality of a life
claimed by misfortune and an unyielding enemy.

The hard drive is secure in your possession, its contents critical to the fight against the
undead scourge. But as the team disembarks onto the solid ground of the base, the triumph
of its acquisition is mired by the tragic loss. A soldier's life ended not in a deliberate act of
self-sacrifice, but in the blink of an eye, to a foe that knows no honour.

As the debriefing unfolds and the brass sorts through the details, the success of the mission
is logged, but the cost remains immeasurable. There will be reports to file and medals to pin,
yet none of that can reclaim what was lost in the scramble to survive. As you stand there,
amidst the flurry of military routine, you lock away the memory of Hart—her final, fateful
fall—a stark reminder that in this new, relentless world, every step can carry the weight of
eternity.

THE END

65
The helicopter claws at the sky, ascending with a mixture of urgency and remorse, leaving
behind the chaos and the dead. The rumble of the aircraft's engines drowns out the
nightmarish sounds of the ground below, but it cannot silence the ringing hollowness within
you.

Inside the cabin, the faces of your remaining team members are etched with a similar blend
of relief and loss—alive yet unfulfilled. The mission was clear: retrieve the doctor, secure the
hard drive, extract safely. But now, empty-handed and heavy-hearted, you face the grim
reality that you've achieved none of these objectives.

There's no need for words as the chopper speeds towards friendly territory; the shared
silence speaks volumes. Every bump and jostle in the ride is a grim reminder of who and
what was left behind—lives sacrificed, critical data lost, and the stark fact that the enemy still
lurks beneath, unchecked and hungry for more.

You touch down on familiar soil, a base buzzing with the life and order that seems alien after
what you've experienced. As you disembark, the weight of the failed mission settles upon
your shoulders like a leaden shroud. Debriefings will follow, questions will be asked, and
somewhere in the process, you'll grapple with the notion that survival, this time, was the
barest victory.

But within that sliver of life preserved, there's a quiet determination burgeoning among the
fatigue. You made it out when all seemed lost, and while the road ahead is uncertain, one
truth remains steadfast—you and your team live to fight another day.

THE END

66
Panic flares as the doctor, now prisoner to the virus's cruel whim, lunges with a snarl, teeth
sinking into the pilot's neck.

The cabin erupts into chaos. Screams pierce the clamour of the struggle as the helicopter
lurches violently, the pilot's hands abandoning the controls in a desperate attempt to fend off
the frenzied attack. The aircraft becomes a vortex of terror and confusion, spiralling out of
control as you scramble for something, anything, to halt the carnage unfolding before your
eyes.

But the sickening realization dawns too late. The helicopter, now a vessel of the damned,
careens earthward, the skyline tilting madly as the ground rushes up to reclaim it. There's a
final, deafening roar of impact, a blinding crush of metal and flame.

And then, silence—a grim punctuation to a mission that, from its inception, was haunted by
the spectre of failure. Now, amidst the wreckage, the mere concept of victory is rendered
meaningless, lost amidst the cold embrace of oblivion.

THE END

67
With deft precision, you manoeuvre in the cramped helicopter, sidestepping the desperate
swipes of Dr. Falkov's now lifeless hands. The weight of the melee weapon is comforting in
your grip as you strike with controlled force, neutralizing the immediate threat she presents.
After a tense few seconds that feel like an eternity, the once-venerated scientist lies
motionless, and an eerie stillness settles over the cabin.

As the helicopter's landing skids touch down on the familiar tarmac of the base, a heavy
silence permeates the air, a stark contrast to the journey's chaotic end. The team
disembarks with the weight of failure pressing on their shoulders, the loss of Dr. Falkov—a
crucial asset to understanding the infection—looming large. Through the debriefing, details
of the mission are dissected with clinical detachment, yet none of it can overshadow the
stark reality: an irreplaceable opportunity to turn the tide against the epidemic was lost with
her.

THE END