The refinery woke before sunrise.

The sky above Bataan remained dark blue when the first generators rumbled louder and floodlights gradually shut down one by one. The smell of oil still lingered in the air, mixing with the cool sea breeze coming from Manila Bay. From the northern access road came the sound of boots against concrete and the occasional rumble of military vehicles returning to their parking areas.

The engagement from the previous night had been brief.

Five hundred infected.

No casualties.

No breaches.

Compared to the battle for Central Luzon, it was insignificant.

Yet no one inside the refinery treated it lightly.

Because it had proven something.

The dead were still here.

Even on a peninsula that had remained relatively isolated from the chaos of Luzon.

Even here.

Chandrika sat on top of a concrete barrier near the northern checkpoint, holding a steaming cup of coffee in both hands. She had been relieved from duty nearly an hour ago, yet sleep refused to come.

The horizon had begun turning orange.

The sea beyond the storage tanks glowed softly beneath the rising sun.

For some reason, she couldn’t stop looking at it.

"You know, normal people usually sleep after night operations."

She looked up.

Ramos approached while carrying an entire tray of food.

Not breakfast.

Food.

Enough to feed three people.

She frowned.

"Where did you even get all that?"

He looked offended.

"The kitchen."

"They gave you all of it?"

"No."

He sat beside her.

"I convinced them."

"You stole it."

"I borrowed it permanently."

She couldn’t help smiling.

Ramos handed her a sandwich.

She accepted it.

For a few minutes, they simply watched the sunrise.

The refinery looked entirely different in daylight.

Massive storage tanks stretched across the facility like giant silver domes. Processing towers rose high above the complex, their intricate networks of pipes and catwalks looking almost like the skeleton of some sleeping metal beast.

Engineers were already awake.

Of course they were.

Several could be seen walking around with clipboards while others inspected valves and pressure gauges.

One man was literally hugging a section of piping.

Ramos followed her gaze.

"...I really don’t understand engineers."

She laughed.

Neither of them noticed another person approaching until boots stopped in front of them.

Captain Herrera looked down at the pair.

"You two haven’t slept."

Ramos pointed at Chandrika.

"Her fault."

She stared at him.

"How is that my fault?"

"I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t sleeping."

Herrera looked tired.

Very tired.

"I’ve commanded soldiers for fifteen years."

He sighed.

"You might be the strangest platoon I’ve ever had."

Ramos looked pleased.

"Thank you, sir."

"It wasn’t a compliment."

The captain handed both of them a folded piece of paper.

They looked at it.

A schedule.

The day’s assignments.

Ramos blinked.

"...We’re doing what?"

"Security escort."

Chandrika looked up.

"For who?"

Herrera crossed his arms.

"The engineers."

Both soldiers looked toward the processing towers.

Then toward the engineers.

Then back toward their captain.

Ramos looked horrified.

"Sir... respectfully... I’d rather fight zombies."

The captain ignored him.

"Several sectors of the refinery require inspection."

He pointed toward the map.

"Storage farms."

"Power station."

"Control building."

"Marine terminal."

"We need security while they assess damage and determine whether the facility can be restarted."

Chandrika nodded immediately.

"Understood."

Ramos looked betrayed.

"You accepted that too quickly."

She smiled.

"Someone has to protect them."

He pointed toward the nearest engineer.

"Look at him."

The engineer was enthusiastically measuring a pipe.

"I don’t know what he’s doing."

"I don’t think he knows what he’s doing."

Herrera pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Report in twenty minutes."

The captain walked away.

Ramos sighed dramatically.

"This is how I die."

"You survived Central Luzon."

"I know."

He pointed at the refinery.

"But I don’t understand any of this."

---

Twenty minutes later, the security escort departed.

Six soldiers.

Three engineers.

One pickup truck.

And one very unhappy Ramos.

The lead engineer introduced himself as Engineer Francisco Delgado.

He looked to be in his late forties and wore thick glasses beneath a yellow hard hat.

The moment he stepped out of the vehicle, his eyes began shining.

It honestly reminded Chandrika of a child entering a toy store.

"Magnificent..." the engineer whispered.

They were standing inside the main processing area.

Pipes crisscrossed overhead. Towers climbed dozens of meters into the sky. Huge pressure vessels sat connected by networks of valves and catwalks.

The entire place looked complicated.

Very complicated.

Delgado practically ran toward one of the towers.

"Sir!" Ramos called.

The engineer didn’t stop.

The soldiers hurried after him.

"This unit is still intact!"

The engineer touched the metal.

"This is incredible."

Another engineer appeared beside him.

"The corrosion is minimal!"

"The pipelines are preserved!"

A third engineer joined.

"The pumps might still work!"

The three men looked like they had just discovered treasure.

Ramos looked around.

"I definitely don’t understand engineers."

Chandrika smiled.

"Maybe this is how soldiers look when they see tanks."

He considered it.

"...Actually, that’s fair."

The inspection continued.

The engineers checked pipes.

Measured equipment.

Examined storage tanks.

Took photographs.

Every few minutes, another excited exclamation echoed through the facility.

"This compressor survived!"

"The electrical systems can be restored!"

"The control room still exists!"

The optimism became contagious.

Even Chandrika found herself becoming curious.

Finally she asked.

"Can this place really work again?"

Engineer Delgado looked toward her.

His expression softened.

"Miss Chandrika."

He pointed toward the processing towers.

"Do you know what this place means?"

She shook her head.

The man smiled.

"This refinery means fuel."

He pointed elsewhere.

"Fuel means vehicles."

"Vehicles mean transportation."

"Transportation means food."

His hand swept across the entire complex.

"This place can bring life back to the country."

The words settled heavily inside her.

Because she suddenly understood.

This wasn’t simply an industrial facility.

This was infrastructure.

Civilization.

Another piece of the old world waiting to be reclaimed.

Delgado looked toward the sea.

"For one year, humanity has only survived."

He smiled.

"Perhaps now... we can start rebuilding."

The words stayed with her.

They remained in her thoughts even as the inspection continued.

Rebuilding.

It was strange.

For so long, her life had consisted of escaping.

Hiding.

Surviving.

Yet these people thought differently.

They weren’t asking how to survive tomorrow.

They were asking how to power the future.

A radio suddenly crackled.

"Northern perimeter to all units."

The soldiers immediately became alert.

"Go ahead."

A pause followed.

Then—

"Friendly helicopters inbound."

The tension eased.

A few minutes later, the familiar sound of rotor blades echoed across the refinery.

Everyone looked up.

Two Black Hawks approached from the northeast.

They flew low over the water before entering the refinery’s airspace.

The helicopters circled once.

Then descended toward an open section near the administrative building.

The soldiers immediately began moving.

New arrivals.

Possibly supplies.

Possibly reinforcements.

As they approached the landing area, the helicopters touched down.

Their doors opened.

And several figures emerged.

Engineers.

More engineers.

At least twenty of them.

Ramos stared.

"...They multiplied."

One of the new arrivals walked directly toward Engineer Delgado.

The older man’s face lit up.

"Ricardo!"

"Francisco!"

The two men shook hands enthusiastically.

Then immediately began discussing pumps.

Ramos looked at Chandrika.

"They really are like soldiers with tanks."

She laughed.

The second helicopter continued unloading cargo.

Large equipment cases.

Toolboxes.

Portable computers.

More equipment than she thought engineers could possibly need.

Apparently she was wrong.

One of the new arrivals noticed the refinery.

Then simply froze.

His mouth slowly opened.

"...It’s beautiful."

Ramos nearly fell over.

"They’re calling a refinery beautiful."

Another engineer nodded solemnly.

"It really is."

Chandrika laughed again.

The sound escaped so naturally that she didn’t even think about it.

A year ago, she never would have imagined herself standing in the middle of an oil refinery, laughing at engineers and discussing the future.

Yet here she was.

Alive.

Healthy.

Surrounded by people who still dreamed of rebuilding the world.

She looked toward the sea.

The sun had risen completely now.

Golden light illuminated the storage tanks and towers.

The refinery no longer looked abandoned.

It looked occupied.

Hopeful.

Alive.

Then her radio crackled.

A familiar voice echoed through the speaker.

"Security Team Three, report status."

She blinked.

Because she recognized that voice.

Adrian.

He was back at Basa.

Yet somehow hearing his voice made the distance feel smaller.

She immediately answered.

"Security Team Three reporting. No hostile contacts."

A brief pause followed.

Then—

"How’s the refinery?"

She looked around.

At the towers.

The engineers.

The soldiers.

The sea.

A small smile appeared on her face.

"It’s... beautiful."

Silence.

Then she heard someone laugh.

Not Adrian.

Ryan.

"Oh no."

Another laugh.

"I think the engineers got to her."

She immediately turned red.

Several soldiers nearby grinned.

Adrian sounded amused.

"I’ll take that as a good sign."

She adjusted her glasses.

"It is."

Another pause followed.

Then his voice became softer.

"Good work, Chandrika."

The simple words somehow warmed her chest.

She didn’t know why.

Maybe because he trusted her enough to send her here.

Maybe because he believed she could do the job.

Or maybe because hearing praise from him simply felt different.

She straightened unconsciously.

"Thank you, sir."

The radio clicked off.

Ramos slowly turned toward her.

Then smiled.

She suddenly became suspicious.

"What?"

He continued smiling.

"Nothing."

"What?"

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes.

"You’re thinking something."

He looked toward the sky.

"I wonder when the Commander will visit the refinery."

She blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then understood.

Her face immediately turned red.

Ramos looked delighted.

"Oh."

He nodded.

"Oh, this is going to be fun."

"Stop talking."

"I didn’t even say anything."

"You were going to."

He grinned.

"Absolutely."

The soldiers around them laughed.

Chandrika covered her face with both hands.

For some reason, the sunrise suddenly felt much warmer.

And above the reclaimed oil refinery in Bataan, surrounded by soldiers, engineers, and the first real signs of reconstruction, laughter echoed across the steel towers.

For the first time in a very long while, the future did not seem so impossible.