I fortified the entire outpost.

    I gathered materials from the storage room, the barracks, and the piles of trash scattered around the back. I stretched wires across the main entry routes at ankle height, hanging empty cans from them.

    Useless during the day, but at night—the most dangerous time—it would act as a motion sensor.

    I also dug pits.

    One near the entrance of the outpost. Another behind it. Several more in the open area between the last cover point on the approach and the outpost itself.

    The pits weren’t deep, but I filled them with shattered metal scraps and glass.

    Enough to cripple anything, human or mutation, that stepped inside.

    Every hill or structure that could provide cover in the open area was removed. Instead, I fortified the rooftop, where the solar panels were, making it my defensive stronghold.

    For the last line of defense, I built a makeshift barricade using stones and debris I had collected over time. From the entrance, it forced an attacker to turn sharply at a right angle to proceed.

    They gave me 90 rounds.

    It was a win, technically.

    But it also shattered my hopes.

    Three more days passed.

    No sign of rescue.

    No message from Unicorn.

    Outside, the landscape was desolate.

    The ashen fog hanging over the mountain’s base unsettled me more than anything.

    But fear wasn’t my worst enemy right now.

    It was boredom.

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