by R. A. Neely
"Relax," Dray said from behind his expansive desk. "If I'd wanted you killed I wouldn't have wasted the resources on surgery."
Some of the tension left Olson's shoulders and Dray smiled on seeing it. "I will of course punish incompetence but that doesn't seem to be the case here. Your mission was actually a success in some ways. You discovered three survivor groups, one of which is a potential enemy."
"Thank you, sir," Olson replied.
"I'm even going to give you a chance to get revenge," Dray continued, "I want you to find this man's group before they have a chance to grow."
"Of course, sir," Olson replied. Dray nodded and looked at something on his terminal. Olson took this as his dismissal. He was nearly out the door when Dray called out.
"Olson."
"Sir?" Olson asked as he turned to face him.
"While this mission was a success overall I expect considerably better performance on your next task. Do you understand?"
"Of course, sir," Olson replied. Dray nodded and Olson quickly made his exit. He breathed out a huge sigh of relief once he was in the hallway. He'd managed to survive the day. Despite Dray's assurances, he had no doubt that Dray could have made an example out of him, expended resources or no. Dray rewarded success and punished failure. He had to ensure his next mission was completely successful.
Olson headed for the firing range and got set up. He'd need to practice to compensate for his loss of vision. He couldn't afford for anything to affect his chances of success.
***
"What are we going to do about this?" Laura asked looking around the table. They were sitting down to breakfast, a much needed respite after last night's ordeal.
"We need to fight," James said.
"How?" Jackson asked. "Those guys came in here and did exactly what they wanted. Nearly took Greg out too."
Greg snorted in response, "I was fine but I see your point."
"We need to be more disciplined," Carol said. "Everyone kinda ran off once the alarm was sounded."
James nodded, "Carol's right, we can't leave our leader unprotected. You could've been killed if you weren't such a good fighter."
"I think we should all have a guard," Greg replied.
Everyone nodded in agreement and Jackson changed the subject. "What do we do about Dray?"
"Nothing for now," Greg said. "Those men we faced were way better trained than ours. We should probably assume most of his men have that level of training which means we need to close that gap as best we can." He looked around the table and wondered how they were going to take what he was going to say next.
"I did some thinking while we were on the roof." They had waited for the sunrise to disperse some of the infected before fighting through to their vehicles. Fortunately, they'd been able to get through without any casualties.
"Dray is building an empire. We need to do the same. We have to match him in resources if we're gonna defend ourselves." Greg chuckled self-consciously. "I know how that sounds. Originally I thought we'd find a spot and just have to worry about defending ourselves from the infected."
"That's not gonna work anymore," James said.
"It won't," Greg agreed, "if Dray attacked right now there isn't much we could do. They've got good training and vast resources...at least one helicopter and who knows what else."
"He must have been planning this for years," Laura said. "How can we catch up when he has such a head start?"
"We need to expand our forces," Greg said. "We'll look for survivors as we travel north. Once we're set up, we can take in smaller groups. When we've done as much of that as we can we can look to building alliances with other groups like ours. No one's safe if Dray intends to be some sort of emperor. We haven't survived everything we have just for someone else to come along and put us in chains."
"When do we start?" James asked.
"Now," Greg replied.
***
Greg continued leading his people north, looking for a place to establish themselves. It was slow going, gas was becoming scarce. In addition to clearing the roads, they had to spend a significant portion of their day siphoning fuel for their caravan. In addition, they had to deal with car trouble. Some of the vehicles were overheating despite Gio's best efforts to keep everything in working condition. The delays weren't all wasted time however. They size of their group began drawing people to their banner and they were able to increase the size of their fighting forces. Every day, Greg and James put the group through rigorous training, both in krav maga and firearms training. As the weeks passed, their ragtag group began to resemble and actual military.
As they made their way through Wisconsin, Greg began having the group park for several days at a time. This allowed more time for training as well as hunting to supplement their dwindling packaged food supply. During this time, Greg would also send out scouts to look for survivors. In this way, Greg was able to increase his budding army to over one hundred fighting men. They were poorly armed, most had whatever weapons they had managed to scrape together during the early days of the Collapse but Greg was encouraged. They were getting trained and would be a force to be reckoned with once they had some proper gear. They men were also fiercely loyal. Many of the men had come with their families, be it family they had from before the Collapse or family they had adopted after. They were more than grateful to serve the man who was giving them regular food and place to stay.
As the weeks passed, there was little resemblance to the ragtag group of survivors that had fled the trailer park. Walking through the camp one would detect a tangible sense of order. Nearly every hand was set to a task, the necessities of survival left little room for idleness. This order carried over to every aspect of camp life, from the way the tents were erected to the placement of latrines. The group had several military veterans to thank for that level of organization. The camp had been haphazard at first. People had set up their tents wherever they found room. The veterans had suggested the camp would benefit from being set up in a more organized fashion. Greg had ordered it implemented and had been surprised when he noticed an improvement in morale.
Walking through the camp, he received a crisp salute from the men on duty. The men had been resistant to the idea of a traditional salute and had started using a closed right fist over the heart. Greg wondered if some of the solidarity was due to their new attire. The scavengers had been really successful during their journey and one thing they had acquired was a uniform of sorts for the guard. It consisted of black cargo pants along with matching boots, shirt, and jacket. On their right shoulder, each wore a triangular patch. It consisted of a stylized "GG" over a field of white. The men had taken to calling themselves the Gregorian Guard. Greg had been amused at first but had quickly stopped when he saw how much pride they took in the name.
Greg reached the center of the camp and looked at the seat of their fledgling government. It was just several tents sewn together but it got the job done. Greg felt a sense of pride as he looked at it. They'd done this, they were building something from the ashes. Greg nodded to the guards on duty and stepped inside.
***
William set Olson's report to the side. This was an interesting development. This group was organized enough that they could be a potential threat. It was good that he had told Olson to get rid of them. Their leader was particularly impressive. He had survived an assassin's blade and had nearly killed Olson in battle. He had smirked when he read about the man unloading his clip into Olson's chest. There was a viciousness there that he could appreciate.
He'd only glanced at the report before Olson had arrived for his meeting. A more thorough look had him wondering if he'd been too hard on him. It appeared that Olson had simply been outmatched. Who would think the man would have used an elevator shaft to flank him?
His intercom chimed and he reached over to answer. "Yes, Alanna?"
"I apologize for the interruption. Watkins and Reel are ready for the conference call."
"Thank you, Alann
a." William hit the button and watched as the screen descended from the ceiling. It flickered to life and William schooled his features to keep the smile off his face when he saw Reel's haggard appearance. The weeks had not been kind to him. Watkins looked much the same, worried. But that was to be expected.
"Gentlemen," William greeted them pleasantly.
"Dray, Reel," Watkins replied.
Reel nodded and focused on William. "You're looking rather immaculate," his distaste forcing his lip to curl up a bit.
"One must maintain a proper appearance," William replied. "It's good for morale."
Reel shook his head in dismissal. "I haven't had time to worry about morale. I've lost half my men to the infected."
"How'd that happen," William asked in pretend sympathy.
Reel hesitated, no doubt aware William was taking pleasure in his misfortune. "There was a breach. One of the men had failed to report that he had been bitten."
"Ah," William replied. There wouldn't be a lapse like that among his men. William rewarded success but his men knew an error of that magnitude would see their entire family executed.
"I've been having trouble of my own," Watkins chipped in. "Does that offer to join you still stand?"
"Of course, Watkins. You're more than welcome."
Watkins visibly sighed in relief, "Thank you Dray. I will of course place my remaining resources at your disposal."
William nodded. That was precisely as it should be. Watkins knew his place. He understood that he would survive because William permitted him to do so.
Reel glanced off screen as if he was faced with an unpleasant task. "Does that offer still hold for me?"
William let the silence stretch out for a few moments before responding. "It does, but I have proposal."
"What's that?" Reel asked.
"Given our mutual...animosity, living under the same roof might prove difficult."
"There's an understatement," Reel replied.
"Indeed. I have a problem you can help me with. In solving it you'll have another city of your own."
"I see, and what does this problem of yours entail?"
"There's a group to the north. They're pretty organized and pose a potential threat to our rebuilding efforts."
"Some would be bandit king is giving you trouble," Reel asked with a chuckle.
"This man is no bandit," William replied. "He survived an assassination and nearly killed one of my best men in personal combat."
"So I get rid of him and you'll find me another city?"
"You get rid of him and you take his city. He's in Wisconsin so that should be enough distance between us." Olson's latest report had indicated the group was camped somewhere near the middle of Wisconsin.
"That could work. Thank you, Dray," Reel said with traces of genuine emotion in his voice.
William nodded and explained there were some matters that he had to deal with and ended the call. He chuckled as the screen returned to its berth in the ceiling. That fool. He would likely be in for a rude awakening when he attacked that group. If their leader had half a brain, he'd be building his forces even now. Jeremy hadn't returned with Olson. That meant that he was dead or captured. If captured, he no doubt would have revealed everything he knew to save his skin.
William assumed that the group knew about him. They were no doubt panicking, impressed by the vast resources at his disposal. They were surely building up their forces. While they'd be no match for his army, they might be able to give Reel some real trouble. However the scenario played out was fine. Reel could swoop in or the group could win the conflict. He could then send in some helicopters to deliver some ordinance. He won regardless.
***
Olson made sure to follow the group from a safe distance. At night, they ate cold rations to avoid any chance of a fire being spotted. It was grueling but necessary work. He had to admit that we was impressed. In weeks this group was well on its way to being an organized military force. Daily, men flocked to his banner with families in tow. Olson used his binoculars to take a closer look at the flag flying from the center of the camp. It was a golden lion's head roaring defiantly over a field of white.
15 Camp, Northern Wisconsin
"Hey everyone," Greg said as he entered the tent.
"Hey, Greg," James replied. "Did you see the flag?
"What flag?"
James motioned for him to follow and made his way outside. He pointed to the new addition flying from the command tent. "You like it?"
Greg looked at the lion and thought. Weeks ago he would have felt subconscious about the whole thing but he had seen how his Gregorian Guard were to bear his name. The lion was fitting, especially the roar. As if they would stand against whatever came their way. "I like it."
"Good," James replied, “we were gonna keep it anyway."
Greg chuckled, “Fair enough."
James motioned for them to head back inside and the first thing he saw was Carols smile.
"Did you like it?" she asked.
"I did," Greg replied.
"It was my idea. Some of the older women put it together."
"Tell them I love it then," Greg replied.
Everyone chuckled as Greg joined them at the table. It was covered in maps. Some had been taken from gas stations and pit stops while others had been hand drawn. "I think we've got something," Laura said drawing his attention to one of the maps.
Greg looked at where she indicated and saw a town circled in red near the edge of Lake Superior. "What's it called?"
"Lakeside," Laura replied. "Looks like the infrastructure is still intact. We'd literally just have to move in."
"Is that our best bet?"
Laura nodded, “It best matches the criteria you set. It's isolated, defensible, and has fresh water."
"And the others?" Greg asked.
"They're missing something," Laura explained. "They might have water but then they're in a bad spot for defense. If we can hold it then water is scarce. There are one or two that might work but the infrastructure is badly damaged."
Greg nodded as he looked over the map. "How far are we?"
"A few hours. It's a good thing too. Gas is getting scarce and Gio is having trouble keeping some of the vehicles running. It'll be easier once we're not on the move so much but it's hard right now."
Greg nodded again, "It looks good. I think it'll work."
"There's just one problem," James said. "It's occupied."
"What are we dealing with?" Greg asked.
"Just looks like some locals according to the scouts," Laura said.
Greg thought for a moment, "I don't see the problem. We need a place and this looks good. We'll offer them the chance to join us."
"What if they refuse?" Carol asked. "Are we just gonna kick people out of their homes?"
"They're getting a better deal than anyone else would give them," Shirley said.
"Shirley's right," Greg said. "We play by different rules now. Lakeside works so we're going to take it. I don't care if that makes us the bad guys. We need to be able to defend ourselves before Dray comes looking for us. I'm not gonna put us in a bad position to spare a few residents."
Jackson nodded, "We need fresh water and a location that's easy to defend. That's so much easier if the infected aren't breathing down our neck."
"I know," Carol said, "I just feel bad about it."
"We do what we have to do," Greg said. "I have no intention of being a slave to Dray or anyone else. We'll give the residents of Lakeside a chance to join our ranks. That's the best we can do for them. And as far as that goes, I don't think any nation was forged without displacing someone else. I need you guys with me on this," he said as he held their gaze for a moment before nodding.
"Alright, let's move. I want to be there before nightfall."
The camp burst into a flurry of activity as everyone began packing up. The news about finally finding a place spread like wildfire. Soon enough, the entire camp was packed and headed to
ward their final destination. Several hours later the group reached the outskirts of Lakeside. As the group set up camp, Shirley headed into the town to speak with those in charge. She was escorted by a dozen of the Gregorian Guard. This wasn't what she wanted to be doing right now, but Greg had insisted. She thought back to their conversation the night before.
Greg had come to their tent and reminded them that they didn't keep prisoners. Shirley understood that he was referring to Jeremy and went to take care of the deed. Jackson had offered to do it but she felt doing it herself would give her so much needed closure. They'd taken care of it quickly. Jackson had dragged Jeremy outside the camp and Shirley had put a bullet between his eyes. It didn't give her the closure she had been looking for though. She still didn't feel safe. How could she? Men had entered their heavily armed camped and taken her. Later she approached Greg and informed him that she wanted to be part of the scouts. She didn't like feeling unsafe and felt that was the best way to get over but Greg had refused. Even after explaining her reasoning he still shook his head. He'd told her that he needed her as an ambassador of sorts. He wanted her to be make first contact with any survivor groups they found. The one concession to her desire was that the roads were still unsafe so there would probably be plenty of time for her to gain the skill she wanted.
As she began walking through the town she thought this would be a good place to set up. To her right there appeared to be a farm. She guessed it was such due to the livestock she glimpsed milling around. She didn't think one would have a farm so close to a town but who was she to judge? She'd lived in the city all her life. To her left a street headed towards what looked to be a residential section. Everything appeared to be intact just as Laura had said. There group would easily be able to fit in here. After a few minutes of walking, she entered the town proper. On either side of the street there were various stores where one could spend their time. As she neared the center of time she noticed a group of people standing in the street. They leveled their rifles in their direction as she stopped at a respectable distance.
A middle aged man stepped forward from the group. He was slightly overweight but bore a stern expression. "That's far enough," he said. "Who are you and what do you want?"