The tavern was buzzing with the usual hum of conversation, people trying to drown out the stress of another day. We'd all found our usual table, beers in hand, the low light of the fire casting flickering shadows over the wooden walls. I leaned back in my chair, nursing my drink while Daisy sat down heavily across from me. She looked tired—more tired than usual. Something was weighing on her.
Ethan was the first to pick up on it, his eyebrows raised as he took a sip from his mug. "Damn, Daisy, you look like you've been through hell."
Daisy scoffed, grabbing her beer and downing half of it in one go. "You're not far off," she muttered, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "Shit's getting worse out there."
Liza leaned in, always curious when Daisy had some news from her patrols. "What happened?"
Daisy shook her head, her expression grim. "Found a guy today, just outside the town border. Missing a goddamn leg. Said raiders hit him."
That got everyone's attention. Ethan leaned forward, setting his mug down with a thud. "Raiders? Shit. I thought we hadn't seen them around in a while."
"Yeah, well, they're back," Daisy said, her voice laced with frustration. "And they're getting bolder. The guy said they hit his caravan, killed the others, took all their supplies. Left him for dead."
Yabe, who had been quietly sipping her tea, looked up with concern in her eyes. "Is he going to make it?"
"Med team picked him up," Daisy replied, tapping her fingers on the table. "Got him to the clinic, but who knows if he'll pull through. He was in rough shape when we found him. Stomach looked like a butcher's shop, and his leg... well, you don't just walk that shit off."
Liza snorted, though there was no humor in it. "Raiders, huh? Those assholes really have nothing better to do than mess with people trying to survive?"
"Apparently not," Daisy grumbled, finishing off her beer in one final swig. "They don't care about anything but taking what they can. And now they're getting closer to town. That's the part that really pisses me off."
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "Damn. So, what's the plan? Are they sending out more patrols?"
Daisy nodded. "Yeah, we called it in, and they're beefing up security around the perimeter. But still... these fuckers are organized. We're not dealing with some random scavengers. This was planned."
I raised an eyebrow, taking a long sip of my beer before setting it down. "Planned? How so?"
"The guy said there were six or seven of them, all hitting his caravan at once. They took out the guards, grabbed the supplies, and then left the survivors to bleed out. Classic raider shit, but with a lot more coordination than I've seen before. Makes me wonder if they've got a leader pulling the strings."
Liza crossed her arms, her lips pursed. "Great. Just what we need—some psycho raider king causing more trouble."
Daisy snorted. "Yeah, well, if that's the case, I hope we get a shot at him before things get worse. I don't want to wake up one day and find those bastards knocking on our gates."
Yabe spoke up again, her voice soft but firm. "Do you think they'll come closer to the town? Try to get in?"
Daisy paused, her expression serious. "I don't know. I want to say no, that we've got enough defenses to keep them out. But they're desperate. And desperate people do stupid, dangerous shit."
Ethan let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Man, it's like every time we think we're getting a handle on things, something else comes along to screw it all up."
"That's life now, isn't it?" I muttered, tapping my fingers on the table. "One damn thing after another."
Daisy sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Yeah, no shit. And I've got a feeling these raider attacks are just the beginning. We're gonna have to stay sharp."
Liza raised her mug, grinning slightly despite the tension. "Well, here's to staying sharp. And to kicking some raider ass if it comes to that."
We clinked our mugs together, though the mood was far from celebratory. There was a heaviness hanging over the table, the weight of knowing that the world outside these walls was becoming more dangerous by the day. Daisy had seen it firsthand, and the rest of us could feel it creeping closer.
As the night wore on, we talked about other things—lighter things—but that undercurrent of dread remained. The idea that raiders were circling, waiting for the right moment to strike, made it hard to fully relax. We all knew the risks of living in a place like this. But knowing it and seeing it were two very different things.
I glanced over at Daisy as she leaned back in her chair, her face shadowed by the dim light of the tavern. She was tough—tougher than most of us—but even she looked rattled by what had happened today.
"You did good out there," I said quietly, catching her eye. "Calling in the med team, getting that guy to safety. You did what you could."
Daisy shrugged, but there was a glint of gratitude in her eyes. "Yeah, well, it doesn't feel like enough. If those raiders get any closer, it's gonna be a lot worse than just a missing leg."
"Then we'll deal with it," I said, my voice steady. "Whatever happens, we'll handle it. Together."
She nodded, her expression softening just a little. "Damn right we will."
And with that, we settled back into the night, the fire crackling softly in the background. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep the darkness at bay—for now.
Ethan sat across from me, looking more jittery than usual. He'd been quiet since we sat down, his beer barely touched, and that was unlike him.
I leaned in, giving him a nudge. "What's up, man? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Ethan let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, you could say that. Been a hell of a first day."
Daisy raised an eyebrow, taking a swig from her drink. "First day at what? Fixing up more fences?"
Ethan shook his head, the tension in his shoulders obvious. "Nah. I've been working on a remote machine gun turret. For the wall."
The table went quiet for a moment, everyone taking that in. I wasn't sure what to say at first. A machine gun turret wasn't exactly what I expected Ethan to be working on. He wasn't the kind of guy who usually handled weapons, let alone ones designed to mow down raiders or zombies.
Liza was the first to break the silence, her voice full of curiosity. "Wait, you're building a fucking turret? Like, a robot gun?"
Ethan nodded, rubbing his forehead. "Yeah, something like that. Remote-controlled, automated targeting, the works. Dorrik's been showing me the ropes, but..." He trailed off, clearly uneasy.
"But what?" I pressed, taking a sip of my beer. "You don't think it'll work?"
"No, it's not that," Ethan muttered, his fingers tapping nervously on the table. "It'll work. That's not the problem. It's just... fuck, I didn't sign up to build killing machines, you know?"
I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath. "Yeah, I get that. But this world we're in now? Sometimes we don't have a choice."
Ethan let out a frustrated sigh, his hands gripping the edge of the table. "I know, man, but it still feels wrong. I mean, I'm an engineer. I'm supposed to build things that help people, not shit that's designed to gun them down."
Daisy leaned forward, her expression serious. "Look, Ethan, I get it. But those raiders, or even the zombies—they're not gonna hesitate to kill you or anyone else in this town. We need defenses, and sometimes that means building things that can take out the threats before they take us out."
Ethan looked down at his beer, swirling it around in his glass but still not drinking. "Yeah, Dorrik said the same thing. 'Man up,' he told me. Like it's supposed to be that easy."
I shook my head, leaning across the table. "It's not easy. None of this shit is. But we do what we have to, right? We're not out there picking fights. We're just making sure we're still standing when the fight comes to us."
Ethan's shoulders slumped, and he finally took a sip of his beer, his gaze distant. "I just keep thinking about the people who are gonna be on the other end of that turret. Even if they're raiders, even if they're trying to kill us... it still feels fucked up, man."
Liza chimed in, her tone a little more lighthearted. "You think they'd hesitate if they had a turret aimed at us? Hell no. They'd light us up without a second thought."
"Exactly," Daisy added. "It's not about wanting to kill anyone. It's about survival. You've seen what it's like out there. These bastards don't care about anyone but themselves. If we don't defend ourselves, we're done for."
Ethan let out another sigh, but I could see the wheels turning in his head. He knew what we were saying made sense. It wasn't about right or wrong anymore—it was about staying alive.
"I get that, I do," Ethan said after a long pause. "But it's still hard to wrap my head around, you know? I'm just not built for this kind of shit."
I leaned forward, meeting his gaze. "None of us are. But we've had to adapt. You're doing what needs to be done, man. That's all anyone can ask of you."
Ethan looked at me for a moment, then nodded, though I could tell he still wasn't fully convinced. "Yeah, I guess. It's just... every time I look at that damn turret, I think about what it's going to do when someone crosses its path."
"That's the point," I said quietly. "It's there to stop the ones who want to hurt us. You're not building it for fun. You're building it to protect everyone inside these walls."
Daisy raised her beer in a toast. "Here's to building whatever it takes to stay alive."
We all clinked our mugs together, though Ethan's movement was a little slower, more reluctant. He took a deep drink this time, draining half his beer in one go. When he set it down, he looked more resigned than before.
"I'll finish the damn thing," Ethan said finally. "But it's not something I'm ever gonna feel good about."
"And you shouldn't," I replied. "No one should feel good about this. But like I said, we do what we must."
Ethan let out a long breath, nodding again. "Yeah, I get that. I guess I just need to... accept it."
"You will," Daisy said, leaning back in her chair. "You'll get used to it, just like the rest of us."
Liza gave Ethan a nudge with her elbow. "Hell, man, you're helping save lives. That's more than most people can say these days."
Ethan smiled faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."
As the conversation shifted to lighter topics, I could still see the weight of the day hanging on Ethan's shoulders. He wasn't the kind of guy who could easily brush off the morality of what we were doing, and I respected that. But in the end, the world had forced all of us to make hard choices, and Ethan was no exception.
We stayed at the tavern for another hour or so, the drinks flowing and the tension slowly easing. But I knew this wasn't the last time we'd talk about it. The world we lived in now required all of us to confront things we never thought we'd have to.
And for Ethan, that meant building a machine gun turret, whether he liked it or not.
Q: Do you drink or not? Do you easily get drunk?