The Rules of War

Day 3 – The Rise of the New Order

Malcolm Reese had spent half his life fighting wars overseas.

Now, he was about to fight one at home.

He sat on the edge of his bunk, rifle across his lap, staring at the dimly lit barracks. Half of the beds were empty—abandoned by men who had already deserted. The few soldiers left sat in uneasy silence, some cleaning their weapons, others staring at the floor, as if waiting for an order that would never come.

Three days. That’s all it had taken for the greatest military force in the world to begin falling apart.

Outside, the sounds of gunfire and shouting echoed through the base.

Malcolm exhaled through his nose. He had seen this before—not here, not in America, but in places like Baghdad and Kabul, where the moment authority crumbled, the wolves took over.

Now, the wolves were coming here.

The barracks door slammed open. Sergeant Diaz—one of the few men Malcolm still trusted—stormed inside, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Shit’s getting bad out there, Reese.”

Malcolm nodded slowly. “How bad?”

Diaz wiped his face with his sleeve. “National Guard units are pulling out. Some of our own guys are deserting. And you remember Captain Foster?”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “Yeah.”

Diaz shook his head. “Shot himself in his office this morning.”

Malcolm muttered a curse under his breath. He hadn’t known Foster well, but the man had seemed steady. A career officer who’d survived multiple deployments. If even he had lost hope…

Diaz leaned against the bunk, lowering his voice. “Rumor is command is bailing. Higher-ups are leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves.”

Malcolm clenched his jaw. He wanted to say that’s bullshit, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

This wasn’t just a virus. This was the unraveling of everything.

And nobody was coming to save them.

By noon, the desertions had become a full-blown mutiny.

Malcolm stood near the motor pool, watching as a group of men—once his brothers-in-arms—loaded stolen weapons and supplies into a convoy of Humvees.

Nobody was stopping them.

A few days ago, desertion would have been treason. Now? It was survival.

Malcolm wasn’t the only one watching. Across the lot, Captain Travis Cole leaned against a transport truck, arms crossed.

Malcolm had served under Cole twice before—both in Afghanistan. The man was ruthless, efficient, and utterly unshakable. A real soldier, the kind who only cared about results, not rules.

Cole caught Malcolm’s eye and nodded.

That was enough to tell him Cole had already decided what came next.

Malcolm wasn’t sure if he was ready to hear it.

Cole found Malcolm an hour later, just outside the west barracks.

The base was already turning into a ghost town. Vehicles abandoned. Doors left hanging open. The radio in the command center had gone silent.

Cole walked up beside him, lighting a cigarette. “You staying?”

Malcolm didn’t answer right away. “Haven’t decided.”

Cole exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Then let me help you decide.”

He nodded toward the base entrance, where a convoy of transport trucks sat idling.

“Me and a few others are pulling out,” Cole said. “Got a bunker in the mountains. Black site. Enough supplies to last us years.”

Malcolm studied him. “And what happens after that?”

Cole’s lips curled into a grim smile. “We start over.”

Malcolm glanced back toward the barracks. He knew the men left behind wouldn’t last. They were either too scared to leave or too stubborn to accept reality.

A military without leadership was nothing.

And Fort Bragg was done.

Cole leaned in slightly. “Listen, Reese. You and I both know what’s coming. Governments will fall. Law will break down. The weak will beg for scraps.”

His eyes darkened. “We’re not gonna be the ones begging.”

Malcolm exhaled. He had spent years fighting to defend something. A flag, a country, a cause.

What Cole was offering?

It wasn’t defense.

It was conquest.

An hour later, Malcolm stood in the back of a transport truck, staring at the burning ruins of Fort Bragg as the convoy rolled out.

They had taken everything—guns, rations, vehicles. The men left behind had barely put up a fight.

This wasn’t just an evacuation.

This was the beginning of something new.

Malcolm knew it in his gut.

Cole sat across from him, checking his rifle. “We’re gonna need people like you, Reese.”

Malcolm nodded slowly. “People like me?”

“People who can enforce order.” Cole met his gaze. “The right kind of order.”

Malcolm didn’t answer.

Because for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure if he was on the right side.

But he had made his choice.

And there was no turning back.