The convoy thundered through the city ruins, engines roaring, tires screeching against cracked asphalt.
The weight of loss clung to Carter like a lead cloak, but he pushed it down.
Now was not the time for mourning.
Now was the time to ensure their sacrifices were not in vain.
As the condo complex came into view, the familiar sight of reinforced steel gates and makeshift barricades sent a wave of relief through the exhausted survivors.
The watchtowers were manned, archers perched atop their defensive positions, scanning the surroundings.
The gates groaned open as the survivors and labourers hauled the heavy stones away from the gate before dragging the steel frames open.
They had made it.
The vehicles rolled inside, engines shutting off one by one as weary survivors climbed out, shaking from exhaustion, and the horror they had endured.
Carter dismounted from the flatbed, eyes immediately locking onto Sam, who stood near the entrance with a group of the militia, relief evident on his face.
His brother-in-law wasted no time.
"You made it,"
Sam said, before noticing the missing warriors.
His expression darkened.
"But not all of you."
Carter clenched his fists.
"No."
Sam exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"They were willing?"
"They insisted,"
Carter muttered.
"They knew the risks. And they bought us time."
The weight of those words settled between them.
One Hundred warriors less.
None returned.
And the system confirmed their demise.
Sam nodded slowly.
"Then we make sure they didn't die for nothing."
Carter looked around.
The survivors—over thirty scavengers, labourers, and volunteers—were unloading the much-needed supplies from the smaller trucks, while everyone was trying to figure out what to do with the larger haul.
The semi-truck was packed to the brim with canned goods, sacks of rice, flour, and dried beans but they were stacked in pallets, to move all the goods would take considerable time without mechanical assistance like the forklifts back in the warehouse.
The delivery vans carried bottled water, bulk spices, preserved meats, and medical supplies scavenged along the way.
It was enough to sustain the community for months—perhaps even longer if rationed properly, and assuming their numbers did rise any further.
It was a victory.
But not everyone saw it that way.
~
As the last of the supplies were carted off for inventory, Carter heard the murmurs.
He turned.
A group of nearly fifty survivors had gathered—people he didn't recognize, mostly those who had joined after the university raid, or had remained holed up in their homes the entire time.
They stood together, whispering among themselves, their expressions ranging from concerned to outright defiant.
One of them, a tall, wiry man with sharp features and glasses that somehow hadn't broken in the chaos of the world ending, stepped forward.
His voice was calm, controlled—but dangerously confident.
"Carter,"
the man called, drawing attention.
Carter met his gaze, shoulders tensing.
"Yeah?"
The man adjusted his glasses.
"We need to talk."
Carter exhaled slowly.
Here we go.
He nodded, signalling for Sam, Marcus, and a couple of the militia officers to join him as he walked toward the gathering crowd of people to listen to their 'demands'.
The man, emboldened by Carter's approach, squared his shoulders.
"We appreciate what you've done,"
he began.
"Saving us. Giving us shelter. We won't forget that."
"But?"
Carter prompted.
"But,"
the man continued,
"a lot of people here are concerned about how things are being run. This… system of yours. the Pharaoh? Medjay? Warriors? It's… it's archaic. We're in the modern world. We should be making decisions together democratically—not living under some self-appointed ruler this is the free-world afterall."
Carter's expression didn't change.
He let the words hang in the air, watching as the crowd behind the man nodded, muttering in agreement.
A would-be politician, one striving to be the voice of the people, but all the while striving to obtain power for himself as well.
It was bound to happen eventually, the growing 'discontent' among the survivors at having to follow instead of lead was growing afterall.
Sam folded his arms.
"And what exactly are you suggesting?"
"A council,"
the man said.
"An elected group to make decisions for the community. No more unilateral rule."
Carter's patience thinned.
"You want democracy,"
he said flatly.
"Yes,"
the man nodded.
"That's how society should be. How it's always been, since the barbaric days of the rule under kings that humankind has long since evolved from the need for."
Carter huffed a short, humourless laugh.
"You mean the society that collapsed in all but a single day?"
he asked.
"The same system that left everyone to fend for themselves equally?"
The man flinched but stood firm.
"How could anyone act fast enough to deal with everything that was going on?"
Carter sighed, crossing his arms.
"*Sigh* Well the Pharoh managed to, but that doesn't seem to be good enough for you... You want democracy,"
he repeated.
"Fine. Let's talk about that. Let's pretend we vote on everything. Resources. Defences. Raids. Who gets food, who gets protection, who gets to live where."
The crowd seemed emboldened by his words—until Carter took a step forward, his eyes hard as steel.
"And what happens when people don't agree?"
Carter continued.
The man blinked.
"Well… we vote—"
"And if the majority votes to give all supplies to their families first? To those of the 'ruling elite'? Or worse decides that those creatures out there are still human or have a chance to become human once again all while still trying to kill us but preventing us from killing them?"
Carter pressed.
"If the strong vote to take more for themselves? If the weak are left to starve because the 'majority' decides they're not useful enough? If the useful vote to exile those not pulling their weight?"
Silence.
Carter turned, sweeping his gaze over the gathered survivors.
"We are not in the old world anymore,"
he said, voice steady but firm.
"That world failed all of us. There is no government coming to save us. No police. No courts. No infrastructure. Right now, we don't have time to sit around debating decisions that need to be made yesterday."
He locked eyes with the man in glasses.
"You want democracy? Go find it somewhere else. Because here, strength rules. You want more supplies work for them, as it stands now there is no welfare system."
The murmurs died.
The gathered survivors shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between Carter and the man leading the opposition.
Carter sighed, forcing some of the tension from his shoulders.
"Look,"
he said, voice lowering slightly.
"This isn't about power. It's about survival. If a time comes when we can afford to debate and vote, fine. But right now? The only thing standing between us and the undead outside is order. And order requires leadership—not committees should we take days to discuss the issue rather than just react and deal with it?"
A few people nodded.
Others looked unconvinced.
The man in glasses hesitated as if trying to find another argument he wasn't prepared to give up his chance at a cushy life.
But before he could speak, Sam stepped up.
"You know what?"
Sam said casually.
"I like democracy. Let's vote on something right now."
The man blinked.
"What?"
Sam turned to the crowd.
"Alright,"
he called out.
"Everyone who wants The Pharoh to remain in charge, raise your hand."
The crowd murmured—then, slowly, hands went up.
A lot of hands.
More than half.
Sam smirked.
"And everyone who doesn't want want the Pharoh in charge, and want him to leave us alone to fend for ourselves?"
A few hesitant hands rose.
Less than a dozen.
Sam nodded.
"Cool. Looks like democracy just voted for The Pharoh to stay in power. You good with that, professor?"
The man in glasses clenched his jaw.
He looked around, realizing he had lost this round, democratically they had elected to remain under autocratic rule.
"...For now,"
he muttered.
Carter sighed.
"If you want to help, focus on keeping people alive instead of playing politics."
With that, he turned away, heading back toward the semi-truck to oversee the final unloading of supplies.
Sam watched the man for a moment, then followed.
"That's not the last of him,"
Sam muttered under his breath.
Carter nodded.
"I know."
~
Despite the tensions, the supplies were successfully unloaded and distributed, while the majority of them were placed under the secure holdings of the Pharoh's residence.
The food reserves had quintupled, giving them much-needed breathing room.
The community, though shaken, was stabilizing.
And Carter?
Following that harrowing mission
Carter sat alone in his room that night, staring at the system screen still in his vision.
📢 System Notification 📢
🆙 Scientific Military System - Rank 3 Unlocked!
Carter leaned back.
The Iron Age had arrived.
And something told him he would need every advantage it could offer.
Because trouble was coming.
Both inside… and outside the walls.