Chapter 80 Graves, You're Up!
"Okay, Graves, you're up," Richard announced, motioning for Graves to join him at the front of the room.
Graves pushed back his chair and stood, stretching his muscles after the lengthy briefing. "It's about time," he remarked, his eyes flitting back to the glowing monitor displaying the satellite images of World's Resort Manila. "I was starting to miss the action. So, what's the mission, boss?"
Richard inhaled deeply. The weight of their task lay heavily on his shoulders. "Aerial reconnaissance has given us an overview, but we need detailed intel. We're still blind to their internal operations, defense mechanisms, and the exact number of survivors."
"Who's with me?" Graves interjected, his eyes narrowing with anticipation.
"You're going solo," Richard replied, meeting Grave's gaze with firm resolve. "This mission needs subtlety, not numbers. And you've proven yourself in situations far worse than this."
Graves' lips stretched into a confident grin. "So, sneak in, gather data, and sneak out. Got it. When do we start?"
Before Richard could respond, Sara interjected, her brows knitted with worry. "We're not initiating a rescue mission yet?"
Richard shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at Sara. "We can't charge in without knowing the full scale of what we're up against, Sara. We need to be strategic about this."
"But every second we waste..." Sara's voice trembled, the images of the innocent people trapped in the resort haunting her thoughts.
Richard placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his gaze steady and unyielding. "We will get them out, Sara. I promise you. But we need to do this right, or we risk losing them all."
"Richard..." Sara said softly as she locked eyes with Richard. There was genuinity in his gaze and it stilled her inner tumult.
Richard's eyes held Sara's for a moment longer before turning back to Graves. "You embark at 1300 hours. Be prepared," he instructed. "You are going in as a civilian."
"What would be my background?" Graves inquired. In a mission such as this, having a background is crucial as the armed guards there the boss might ask questions about him.
"Sara, can you please prepare a detailed cover story for Graves?" Richard asked, transferring his attention to her.
Sara nodded, her fingers already dancing across the keyboard. In moments, she pulled up a comprehensive identity profile. "You'll be Graves Jenkins, a specialized electrical engineer expat working in the Philippines for the past two years," Sara informed him. "Your credentials and work history are all set, you just have to memorize it."
Graves nodded, scanning the documents that appeared on the screen in front of him. The depth of the information was extensive - from the fictional alma mater where he "studied" to the intricate details of "past projects" he had supposedly worked on.
"I didn't know you could make such an elaborate background such as this in such a small amount of time," Graves commented. "Thank you, Sara."
"You're welcome Graves. And also you are going to need an earpiece to communicate with us, so here," Sara said, handing over a small, inconspicuous device. "Keep the communication to a minimum. We don't want to risk detection."
Graves took the earpiece, fitting it quickly.
Six hours later, Graves was at the garage of the Oriental, wearing a casual ensemble, making him look like a civilian. Next to him was an Audi Q6 belonging to one of the survivors currently living in the Oriental Military Camp.
"Once you learn everything about their operations, give us a call, we are going to bring in the cavalry," Richard said.
"Copy that sir," Graves said as he winked at him.
"Okay, good luck and be safe out there," Richard said, extending his fist, and offering a fist-bump.
Graves bumped Richard's fist firmly. "See you soon, boss."
With those parting words, Graves opened the door of the Audi, settling into the driver's seat. He glanced back at Richard, who was still watching. Then, without another word, he drove off towards World's Resort Manila, ready to face the unknown.
***
The major roads leading to the World's Resort Manila are clogged with abandoned vehicles, causing Graves to make numerous detours and navigate through smaller streets and alleys. His eyes constantly scan the surroundings, alert for any unforeseen dangers.
Graves arrives at the vicinity of the resort at four o'clock in the afternoon. The entrance is heavily guarded, and armed personnel on a makeshift guard tower aimed their M16 rifle at his vehicle.
"Stop!"
One of the guards yelled. Graves complied his hands firmly on the steering wheel. His heart raced, but he maintained an outward appearance of calm. Every movement and every gesture would be scrutinized, and any hint of deception could be fatal.
The vehicle came to a complete halt, and Graves could hear the crunching of boots on gravel as four armed guards approached, their weapons trained on him. The barrel of an M16 loomed ominously at the driver's window.
"Step out of the car!" Another guard demanded.
Graves's hands were steady as he opened the door and stepped out. He raised his hands instinctively, showing that he was unarmed. The guards circled him, their eyes filled with suspicion and hostility.
"Who are you?" one of the guards, seemingly the leader, barked in broken English. Every word was thick with an accent, strained and harsh. Communication would not be easy, Graves realized.
"I'm Graves Jenkins," Graves responded, maintaining eye contact. "I heard a helicopter coming here in the morning. So I followed it, believing it was a survivor's camp."
"Talk slow!"
"I am a survivor," Graves reiterated slowly, articulating each word carefully. "I want to join camp."
The leader looked at the other guards and beckoned them to frisk Graves for any concealed items. Their hands were thorough, checking each pocket and fold of his clothing. Graves remained still, allowing the guards to do their job, understanding that any resistance could be seen as a threat. After a tense few minutes, they seemed satisfied that he wasn't an immediate danger. n/.O--v-.e-)L.)b/)1/.n
The leader then signaled Graves to hand over his ID. Graves did so, and the leader examined it closely, flipping it around and studying the details. The ID, although fabricated, was expertly done and held up to scrutiny.
"What do you do?" the leader asked.
"I'm an electrical engineer," Graves answered, sticking to his cover story.
The guard eyed Graves suspiciously but didn't immediately challenge his claims. He seemed more focused on figuring out if Graves could be useful to them or not. In a world overrun by zombies, every living human could be a potential asset or a threat.
They communicated briefly among themselves in their native language, their words rapid and low. Graves couldn't catch what they were saying, but his focus remained sharp; he understood the need to stay attentive to their gestures and expressions.
After a short discussion, the leader turned his gaze back to Graves. "Come with us," he ordered curtly. Graves nodded, maintaining a demeanor of compliance.
Graves was led through the heavily fortified entrance, past makeshift barricades and traps designed to keep the zombie hordes at bay. They walked him into the main area of the resort which now resembled a fortified encampment. Soldiers and survivors moved about, their eyes weary yet vigilant.
The leader escorted Graves to a room. "Wait here," he commanded before exiting, leaving Graves alone in the room. The walls were thin, and the sounds of the encampment outside filtered through.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened.
"Our boss wants to see you."
Graves rose to his feet and nodded. "Very well."
