Day 56: A New Threat
The early morning light filtered through the boarded-up windows of the museum, casting long shadows across the floor. The group stirred from their makeshift beds, the tension from the previous day still lingering in the air. They had survived another night, but there was no time to rest easy. The world outside was unforgiving, and today, it was time for another supply run.
Luke was the first to rise, his mind already focused on the day ahead. He knew they had to keep rotating teams to gather supplies, and today it was the turn of those who had yet to venture out: Blake, Sarah, and Sara. He trusted them, but the thought of sending more of his people into the dangerous streets always weighed heavily on him.
"Time to get moving," Luke said as he walked through the museum, waking up the others.
Sarah and Sara were already up, securing their weapons and mentally preparing for the day. Sarah, a former teacher, had proven to be resilient and resourceful, adapting to the harsh demands of their new life. Sara, with her quiet determination, had quickly become someone the group could rely on.
Blake stretched, rolling his shoulders as he prepared himself mentally for the run. "Let's make this quick and quiet," he muttered to himself, as much to steel his nerves as to remind the others.
Cass, who had gone out on a previous run, stayed behind this time to help fortify their base and oversee the preparations. She watched as Sarah, Sara, and Blake gathered their gear, her expression one of quiet encouragement.
The rest of the group, including Derek, Raya, Jay, Mae, and Dom, gathered near the entrance to see them off. They shared quick, meaningful glances—silent promises to return safely.
"Remember," Luke said, addressing the departing group, "stick to the plan, keep it quiet, and if anything seems off, get out of there. We'll be here when you get back."
As Sarah, Sara, and Blake approached the door, the group's usual routine was shattered by an unexpected sight. About fifty feet from the museum's entrance, a man stood, his presence unnervingly calm. He was tall, with a lean build, dressed in ragged clothing that still bore the marks of a once-decent life. His expression was composed, almost too much so, as if he had no doubt about the outcome of this encounter.
"Stay back," Luke ordered, stepping in front of the group, his hand instinctively reaching for his weapon. "Who are you? What do you want?"
The man raised his hands in a gesture of peace, though his eyes remained cold and calculating. "I'm not here to harm you," he said, his voice steady and confident. "I'm here to convey a message."
The tension in the air thickened, everyone on edge as they waited for the man to continue.
"You're living in the territory of the Black Fangs now," the man said, his tone calm yet ominous. "That means you owe us. Starting tomorrow, you'll begin paying taxes. Once a week, you'll bring your payment to the designated spot. If you fail to do so, we'll consider it a declaration of war—and believe me, you won't win. We'll massacre every last one of you."
The man's confidence was chilling, as if he had no doubt that his threats would be carried out without hesitation.
Sarah's eyes narrowed as she took a step forward. "And what exactly do these 'taxes' consist of?"
"Supplies," the man replied, almost casually. "Food, medicine, weapons—whatever you've got that we want. You'll be told how much to bring when the time comes. But make no mistake, the payment is non-negotiable."
Luke's grip tightened on his weapon, his mind racing through their options. They had barely enough to sustain themselves as it was, and now these so-called Black Fangs were demanding a cut? It was impossible.
"We don't have much," Blake said, his voice edged with tension. "You take our supplies, and we won't survive."
The man's expression didn't waver. "Then you'll have to make do with what you have left. Or find more. That's not our problem."
A heavy silence settled over the group, the weight of the threat hanging in the air. The man was confident, too confident, and it was clear he had no doubts about the Black Fangs' ability to follow through on their threats.
"And if we refuse?" Luke asked, testing the man's resolve.
The man's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Then we'll make an example of you. You've heard of us, I'm sure. The Black Fangs don't tolerate defiance."
The group remained silent, processing the gravity of the situation. The Black Fangs were clearly a force to be reckoned with, and their confidence suggested they had the means to back up their threats.
"I'll give you until tomorrow to decide," the man said, turning to leave. "But know this—if you're not at the designated spot with the first payment by sundown, we'll be coming for you."
With that, the man walked away, his figure soon disappearing into the desolate landscape. The group was left standing in the entrance, the weight of the threat pressing down on them.
Luke was the first to break the silence. "We can't let them dictate terms. If we give in, we'll be at their mercy."
"But if we refuse," Sarah said, her voice heavy with concern, "they'll come after us. And from the way he talked, it sounds like they have the numbers and firepower to make good on that threat."
Derek, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up. "We need to prepare, no matter what we decide. If they come for us, we have to be ready."
Sara nodded in agreement. "We can't just sit back and wait. We need a plan—whether it's to defend ourselves or to find a way out of this."
The group stood in a tense circle, the reality of their situation sinking in. The Black Fangs had thrown down the gauntlet, and now they had to decide how to respond.
"We'll discuss this with everyone," Luke said, his voice firm. "But whatever we choose, we need to be united. If we show any sign of weakness, they'll exploit it."
The others nodded, though the fear in their eyes was unmistakable. They were facing an enemy they didn't fully understand, and the stakes couldn't be higher.
As the group returned to the museum, the weight of the coming day hung heavily over them. The Black Fangs had made their demands clear, and now it was up to them to decide how to respond. But one thing was certain—whatever they chose, it would change everything.