Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[97] Just beneath the surface...

The next evening, me, Cassidy and Kaya came back from our scavenging trip. With me as his top earning scavenger, Cody bought us a round of drinks at the local tavern.

As the laughter and the chink of glasses filled the air, Cody's normally jovial face grew somber. We leaned in closer, our eyes locked on his as he started to talk in a low voice, his words barely audible above the noise.

"Overpopulation," he muttered, nursing his glass. "It's a problem no one wants to talk about, but it's there. It's real."

He looked at each of us in turn, his gaze serious. "More and more people are pouring into Banff every day. It's getting crowded. Too crowded."

I frowned, glancing at Kaya and Cassidy. They looked back at me, concern evident in their eyes. It was a problem we had started noticing, too.

Cody continued. "Food, water, space – they're all starting to run out. We can't support this many people. Not for long."

The jovial atmosphere of the bar seemed to contrast sharply with the bleak picture Cody was painting. I looked around, my gaze lingering on the carefree faces, all oblivious to the looming crisis.

"We can scavenge and trade all we want, but it's a stop-gap measure," Cody added, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. "Sooner or later, something's got to give."

I felt a weight settle in my chest. Cassidy reached over, giving my hand a small squeeze. Kaya, on the other hand, wore a hardened expression, her gaze lost in thought.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked, meeting Cody's gaze once again. "How do we handle this?"

Cody was silent for a moment, his gaze unfocused as he pondered. He then lifted his glass, his face hardening. "There is no plan...I don't see this handled without it getting ugly...And it can get real ugly..."

We were jolted from our conversation by the harsh sound of raised voices outside the tavern. Our eyes darted towards the window to see two men grappling with each other in the middle of the dusty street.

One was a burly figure with an unkempt beard, his eyes bulging with rage as he threw wild punches at the other. His adversary, a slimmer man with a thin scar running across his face, danced around him, landing a few calculated strikes of his own. Their movements were uncoordinated, the product of heated anger rather than calculated fighting technique.

Passersby stopped to watch, forming a ragged circle around the fighting men. Jeers and insults filled the air, the crowd's excitement fueling the fight. A woman screamed from the sidelines, pleading for someone to stop the madness.

Just as the situation was spiraling out of control, the stern-faced guards arrived. They muscled their way through the crowd, their faces hard with determination. There were four of them, all sturdy figures armed with batons and the confidence of authority.

Without any hesitation, two of the guards darted towards the fighters, their batons raised. The burly man grunted as a baton connected with his side, making him double over. The other guard swooped in and locked his arm around the man's neck, choking him until he released his hold on his adversary.

The remaining two guards pounced on the slim man, pinning him to the ground with firm hands. He fought back fiercely, but the guards were relentless, swiftly immobilizing him.

In a matter of minutes, the fight was over. The guards hauled the two brawlers away, their faces twisted in pain and humiliation. The crowd slowly dispersed, their excitement replaced with a heavy silence.

From inside the tavern, we watched the scene unfold with grim faces. The fight was a stark reminder of the tensions boiling beneath the surface in the town. Cody's words echoed in my mind, amplifying the significance of the scene outside.

As the dust settled, I glanced back at my companions. Their faces mirrored my own thoughts. The looming crisis was realer then ever. And it was starting to show its ugly face.

Q: What will be your ideal community size in a zombie apocalypse?