As the standoff reached its peak, Anthony's walkie-talkie suddenly crackled to life.
"Anthony, hand the radio to him."
When the big boss himself requested a conversation, Anthony didn't dare hesitate. He immediately passed the device to Thomas.
"This is Miles."
Four simple words, light as a whisper yet weighted with authority, sent a chill through Thomas. His nerves tightened inexplicably.
"Miles… Miles, sir, good evening," Thomas replied cautiously.
Miles's tone remained calm, almost indifferent. "Today's events were initiated by your side. Mistakes must be acknowledged. Wouldn't you agree?"
Thomas took a deep breath. "Yes, we were outmatched and admit defeat. If you have terms to discuss, we're open to negotiation."
There was no point denying the obvious. They had lost, and losers always paid a price. The only question was what Miles would demand.
"You think I can't deal with your four hundred people, don't you?" Miles let out a faint chuckle. "Why don't you let them try and see how many make it out of Cloudtop City alive?"
"What do you mean?" Thomas's expression darkened.
"I've stationed ten men at each of the three gates," Miles explained, his voice unhurried. "Each is armed with submachine guns and supplied with over two thousand rounds of ammunition. If you insist on forcing your way out, how many of your four hundred do you think will survive?"
Thomas fell silent, his mind racing.
Miles pressed on, his voice steady and unyielding. "Even if a few of you make it out, where would you go? Would you survive out there? Starve to death in the wasteland?"
Thomas exhaled heavily, realizing the odds were stacked against them. "What do you want, then?"
"You and your people will submit to me," Miles stated flatly.
Thomas scoffed bitterly. "What does submission mean? Thirty rations a day for all of us? If that's your offer, we might as well risk everything. At least in a fight, the desperation of hunger will resolve itself."
The brutal system of rationing had already brought ruin. Miles's previous "Zombie Disposal Team" initiative was proof enough. A force that started with over a thousand had been whittled down to fewer than three hundred, and much of that loss came not from external attacks but from infighting.
Miles had allowed this deterioration without intervention, understanding that starvation and competition would turn people against one another faster than any external threat.
Without flinching, Miles outlined his terms. "From today, your group will be disbanded and reorganized. You'll be integrated with the residents of Cloudtop City, distributed evenly—one hundred per zone. Interference between zones will not be tolerated. As for food, the Zombie Disposal Team is officially dissolved. Anyone who joins my security force will receive at least one full meal a day."
"Why?" Thomas demanded, his brows furrowing. "You want to recruit us? But you've never cared about outsiders, and our presence here only increases your risk. Why make this offer now?"
"Because there's a world beyond this neighborhood," Miles replied, his voice steady but brimming with quiet ambition. "The apocalypse isn't just a local tragedy; it's a global reshuffling of power. Do you truly wish to spend the rest of your days as a mere scavenger, content with scraps?"
Perspective shapes a person's destiny.
Thomas hesitated, his thoughts swirling. "Are you painting me a dream, Miles? Even if you want to build a kingdom, the remnants of government forces out there won't let you succeed. What do you have to fight them with? Courage?"
"I don't aim to be a king," Miles replied softly. "I just want to reclaim a semblance of the life we had before—to live like a human being again."
Thomas fell silent.
In three months of catastrophe, he had witnessed the degradation of humanity—the collapse of societal norms, the rise of barbarity. People had devolved, losing sight of what made them human, becoming nothing more than animals driven by instinct.
"I can't promise to save everyone," Miles admitted. "But I can offer you a chance to live as human beings, even if only for a short while. So, Thomas, the question is… do you want to remain human?"
…
In the end, Thomas relented.
But it wasn't Miles's grand vision that persuaded him—it was the promise of a daily full meal. Ideals and dreams meant little to empty stomachs; survival always came first.
"Attention! Stand at attention!" Ryan barked, his Type-95 rifle slung across his chest. He glared at the fifty-odd recruits before him. "You've accepted the food, so now you follow orders. Everything you do will be under my command!"
Thomas, now a newly appointed deputy captain, stood at the front of the group. He glanced back at the bewildered faces of his comrades, suppressing a sigh.
"Didn't you hear what the captain said? Stand at attention!" Thomas echoed, his voice sharp. Slowly, the recruits shuffled into a semblance of formation, their clumsy attempts at military posture drawing grimaces.
Ryan's patience snapped. "Second row, third man—you! Yes, you, dumbass! Do you think 'at ease' means stepping out with your right foot? Can't do it? Then get the hell out!"
Storming over, Ryan delivered a swift kick to the offender, sending him stumbling.
Ryan didn't tolerate incompetence lightly, especially given the gravity of Miles's directives. Having served in the military himself, he naturally assumed the mantle of disciplinarian among the new recruits.
"This morning's task is simple," Ryan growled. "You stand at attention. Anyone who doesn't get it right doesn't eat lunch. You get it right when I say so—no sooner!"
The promise of a full meal, however small, was enough to galvanize the group. They straightened up immediately, their faces set with determination.
Once the recruits had managed a passable formation, Thomas stepped out of line and approached Ryan.
"Ryan, we're counting on you," Thomas said with a thin smile, his tone conciliatory.
Ryan, however, wasn't taken in. He regarded Thomas with a wary disdain. The man was clever—too clever. Clever people were dangerous, always calculating, always scheming.
"Ha," Ryan replied flatly. "We're all working for the same boss. There's nothing to count on."
Thomas didn't seem offended. "Fair enough," he said, grinning faintly. "Whatever you say, we'll follow your lead."