The sun had risen higher by the time Phillip and his team fanned out deeper into the farmland. The morning haze had lifted, revealing more of the shattered countryside—miles of scorched paddies, leaning water towers, and broken irrigation canals half-swallowed by creeping vines. But for now, the quiet held.
Phillip knelt beside a cracked concrete trough once used to store water for fieldwork. He dipped two fingers into the stagnant pool and raised it to eye level. Algae. No rot. No blood. It wasn't clean, but it wasn't tainted either.
He glanced up. "Shadow Three, status?"
A voice crackled in his earpiece. "Northern perimeter secured. No contact."
"Shadow Four?"
"Eastern ridge clear. Found an overturned cart and a few rusted drums. Nothing hostile."
Phillip nodded to himself. "Keep a tight watch. We're pushing west."
