A meeting with Gavin.

“I don’t understand what you see in them,” Barker muttered, doubt thick in his voice as he poured himself a glass of whiskey.

Gavin stood near the wide glass window of his office in the town hall, posture straight, hands folded neatly behind his back. Below them, Wingston moved in careful rhythm, civilians repairing fences, children chasing one another between guarded alleys, sentries rotating posts with disciplined precision. Life continued, fragile.

His thoughts wandered further than the streets beneath him.

“They have potential,” Gavin said calmly. “For good things, I believe.”

Barker scoffed lightly, swirling the whiskey in his glass as if testing its honesty. “That’s just you being optimistic.” He poured another measure and stepped closer. “Three survivors manage to contact us through a half-dead radio tower. By chance, Mirabelle catches the signal.” He handed Gavin a glass. “And not only that, two of them are expert marksmen? Just wandering the wasteland waiting to be saved?”

He shook his head. “Bullshit.”

“Language,” Gavin corrected, though his tone lacked real heat.

“My apologies,” Barker said, bowing his head slightly. He might bark, but he never snapped at Gavin. Not out of fear, but respect.

They clinked glasses.

“Cheers.”

Gavin drank slowly, measuring both the burn and the silence between them. “What exactly do you have against him?” he asked, genuinely curious, not as a commander demanding justification, but as a friend asking for truth.

Barker hesitated.

“He’s too good to be true,” he admitted. “Men like that… they don’t just stumble into communities like ours. They bring something with them.” He took a longer sip. “I’ve seen that story before.”
Gavin turned from the window then, studying Barker rather than the town.

“Maybe we truly got lucky,” Gavin said. “I don’t sense deception in their desire for shelter. He does carry secrets, yes. But I believe those are personal demons… not weapons aimed at us.”

Barker pondered that. He wanted to believe it. But experience whispered otherwise.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he conceded, though the words felt forced.

“You were like him once,” Gavin added gently. “Don’t be so quick to judge someone walking the road you once did.”

That one struck deeper than Barker expected.
Gavin rarely spoke of the past. When he did, it was deliberate.

Barker looked away.

“You must learn to pause before deciding your next course of action, Trey,” Gavin continued, moving toward his desk and lowering himself into his leather chair.

Barker stiffened slightly at the sound of his name.
Whenever Gavin used it, the conversation had crossed from casual to consequential.

“Especially,” Gavin went on, folding his hands on the desk, “since I won’t always be here to steady your hand.”

“I don’t need protection, Frank,” Barker replied. There was no venom in it only pride.

“No,” Gavin corrected quietly. “You need discipline. And perspective. And patience.” He lifted a finger slightly. “And that is an order.”

Barker allowed a faint smirk. “You’re talking like you’re dying.”

Gavin chuckled softly.

“We are all going to die someday, Trey. That’s the first lesson the army teaches you.” His expression shifted; not darker, but heavier. “But lately… with the way this world turns… it feels less like a lesson and more like a countdown.”

Silence settled between them.

Outside, a distant hammer struck metal. A gate creaked. Somewhere in the streets below, someone laughed.

Life, pretending to be normal.

“Fuel runs dry,” Gavin continued, almost absently. “Alliances shift, Men grow desperate. Desperation breeds mistakes. Mistakes breed graves.”
Barker’s jaw tightened.

“And sometimes,” Gavin added, locking eyes with him now, “the greatest threats don’t come from the infected outside our walls… but from the living inside them.”

That lingered.

Barker understood more than he let on.

“Always be ready for every outcome,” Gavin finished, voice steady but layered with something deeper. “Even the ones that fracture what you’re trying to protect. Even the ones that demand you choose between loyalty and survival.”

He paused.

“Even those you don’t want to face.”

This time, the words carried weight, not just as advice, but as warning.

Deep down, Barker felt it.

He simply wasn’t ready to accept which outcomes Gavin truly meant.

A knock came at the door.

“That must be them,” Gavin said.

Barker moved immediately, positioning himself slightly behind and to the right of Gavin, not aggressive, but protective. Always within reach. Always watching.

“Come in.”

Mirabelle and I stepped inside, Sandy right behind us. The office carried the scent of old wood and whiskey. Orderly. Controlled.

Gavin rose from his chair in formal greeting. A slight nod.

“Morning, ladies and gentlemen.”

“Morning, Gavin,” Mirabelle replied with her usual warmth, a warmth that could soften even rooms built for command.

Sandy gave a short nod. I followed suit.
Gavin’s smile lingered briefly on Mirabelle. He appreciated her light. It balanced him.

Sandy crossed her arms, posture firm. Barker mirrored the distance from the opposite side of the room, silent symmetry.

“You were looking for us?” Sandy asked, direct as ever.

“Yes.”

No elaboration.

Just that.

He motioned us toward the far wall where a large, detailed map of the region hung, Wingston at the center, surrounding zones marked with careful precision. Several locations were circled in red ink.

Gavin stepped forward and pointed at a bold marking:

FUEL / GAS

“I need you to conduct a scavenging operation,” he began. “Not for food or medicine this time.”

He glanced at us.

“Not tonight. After the celebration. You deserve your rest.”

Then his tone shifted.

“I need you to secure the train fuel depot southwest of Oasis. Extract as much as possible. The empty tanks are already prepared.”

“It doesn’t sound like we’re allowed to refuse,” Sandy said, one eyebrow raised.

“No,” Gavin replied. “You cannot.”

He didn’t blink.

He didn’t smile.

He held her gaze.

Sandy absorbed it without flinching, but she understood something had shifted. Even Mirabelle stiffened slightly.

“Huh? Why the secrecy?” she asked. “We’ve done runs before. What changed?”

“I have to agree with Sandy here, Gavin.” Mirabelle said with a shrug.

“Not like this,” Gavin answered quietly. “There was an unforeseen development during your last mission.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Kinda obvious, isn’t it?” Barker finally cut in; voice edged. “The scavengers at Home Mart weren’t random. They were organized, they weren’t there before but they certainly from that surrounding area now.”

His eyes drifted briefly toward me, assessing and judging.

“They’re expanding.”

“I don’t believe,” he corrected. “I’m certain.”
He rested his folded hands beneath his chin.

“Fuel will become one of the rarest resources in this world. Transportation. Generators. Defense.” He stated each word dramatic adding weight to it. “Whoever controls it controls mobility… and leverage.”

He tapped the map.

“If we secure the depot and establish a small outpost, we gain strategic advantage across the zone. We already control Home Mart. We have farms, working water systems and Structure. Like it or not people, we are becoming a rich target for this sort of groups.”

“You want us to be the only safe haven in the area with power,” Sandy said, cutting his monologue like a sharp knife. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”

Gavin looked at her. “Yes.” He stated coldly, It wasn’t tyranny or cruelty but certainty of the future that was fast approaching in this new world order.

Mirabelle stepped forward slightly, hands raised as if calming invisible flames.

“Wow wow, time out.” she said. “We agreed, and I mean agreed,” Her eyes sharpened, Mirabelle solemn and passionate was a force to fear and be reckon with. “That we were building a place for people trying to survive, for them to have a chance to live. A community.”

She made sure Gavin knew what she was referring to.

“This sounds like you want to build a fortress.”

“That’s still the objective Mirabelle.” Gavin replied calmly “But we need to be ready, in case of the worst. Communities requires protection. Protection requires resources. Resources require foresight.” He stated with finesse and controlling

“When the 52nd arrived here, we were fifty men strong.” His voice dipped, not sentimental, but factual. “Now we are twenty.”

That number hung in the air, loss without theatrics.

“We are not as safe as we think we are.” I stated quietly, understanding Gavin’s reasoning. Barker looked at me with a disrespected look, not even a day here and I was already calling myself part of the community.

“This is madness.” Mirabelle said shaking her head in disbelief. “You are being paranoid.”

“Alright,” Sandy said after a moment. Her arms crossed defensively “I’m in. How many men can you spare?”

“None.”

That hit harder than expected.

Sandy’s arms uncrossed. “Excuse me?”

“We are stretched thin,” Gavin continued evenly. “If I send ten men, Wingston weakens. Instead, they’ll train civilians. Those who are interested in defending their homes instead.”

“So, I guess you propose the same group that went to Home mart to do it again this time.” I concluded.

“Undoubtedly. Although I have already managed to recruit three more people after your last hunt, two of them are locals and one of them is one of mine who wants to help directly. I will grant all the equipment and vehicles you need, don’t fret about it.” He expressed with command.

“Alright then, I will seek Garrett out then and propose him… this I guess.” I accepted, despite knowing this was riskier than the home mart mission. I guess my role in the community has been decided for me.

Sandy sighed “I will contact Diego and Timothy…”

Mirabelle looked down; she didn’t like this one bit.

She stared at the map, at the red ink. What this could lead into.

If she didn’t go, she wouldn’t see it herself.

Wouldn’t have a voice in how it unfolded.

Wouldn’t be able to argue from within.

Gavin noticed her silence.

“If you’re wondering why I brought you here,” he said gently, “it’s because you represent the civilians. I will not make decisions about our future without transparency.”

His voice softened, not weak, but sincere.

“I care about what we are building.”

Mirabelle swallowed; she hated the direction. But she respected the honesty.

She looked at me.

Then Sandy.

Then back at the map.

She took a long breath. “If this is happening,” she said slowly, “then I’m going with you.”

That surprised everyone.

Barker straightened.

Sandy blinked.

Even I hadn’t expected it.

“All hands-on deck, right?” she added, forcing a small grin, but her eyes were serious now.

Gavin gave a quiet chuckle under his breath.

“Very well,” he said. “Dismissed.”