The Ruins

Chapter 17

Mal stepped out of the shop into a back alley. Everywhere there were signs of the decay that had consumed the once bustling city. Piles of uncleared garbage, paving stones shattered into uneven shards and a singular absence of the sound of air conditioning units, the one-time summertime chorus of urban America.

Overhead, on the roof of the building, there would be a soldier armed with an assault rifle strode back and forwards uneasily, watching the people beneath her. Mal walked to see no one up there, there has to be guards around, sectorinf the place every hour. However, she notice there's less of them around. It's another irritation of what's to come from... Charlie.

The Tradepost lasted for sixteen years and counting. Since FEDRA claimed it, it was a hospice for the military in the begin of the Black Night. Soon as Flyer Frontiers came, they decided to make the place a heaven of goods. The sign on the wall said:
'Safe Heaven for the Lost, No Fear to Regain'

Some things were never going to be available of course. Working personal electronics? More than the most basic medical supplies? Forget about those; they were 'prioritized goods' - in other words only operational military units. As that the production capability has huge amount of stuff left. Much of it was in surprisingly good condition. You want it, get working in a job to get ration dollars

Soon, a group came over to take in charge as the Flyer Frontiers had to regroup the Quarantines. And that was Charlie, which he kept the system but in a fair price of trading a ratio for other goods than rather to pay what you have and what you can't.

Mal set off to a gate and takes her to the main street way. It was so crowded with people running through the streets, going to each station of selection. Wooden walls, tarps holding up, the metal tables showing all the items such as gas can, tools, little tinges, and many more. The warehouses and apartments behind the stations were their homes are. People did sell and trade, most of the stuff with livestock, fuel, supplies come from the black market. Generally, the system worked very well but the chance of double-cross was becoming a looming threat. There's people who work but never pay attention. There's no clear authority over the people living and working here, have no interest. She hates to admit it but Charlie has become flaccid, losing his ownership over the Tradepost. It's as he doesn't care any more.

Without the Tradepost - sure some survivors can live without it - the Eleven Towns would be seriously be in trouble. The Eleven Towns has good stock and been trading their goods although its not a huge ratio of goods. The Tradepost should continue on, especially the ones who can't scavenge themselves.

Taking up the East Quarter into the intersection of a run-off street, Mal's eyes snapped back to the raid on the run-down tenement building when she heard yelling's. An African-American woman was laying face-down on the floor and struggling with a man holding her down with a boot on the back of her neck, kicking her in the stomach. Mal could say this is new (seen a bunch like this when being with the Flyer Frontiers but more cruel) and that they're fighting over what's in her bag, supplies. It worried Mal that the supplies are low range although, it never happened. People who can't control their fury and be animalistic was of losing foods, supplies. Humans need needs, items to survive. Mal better check in the Stock-quart to see if there's any problems.

After passing through an alleyway with a open warehouse and a chain-link fence, inside is some packing crates; full crates of food this time. Just in time too, as two armed men walked out of the building that had once housed Spencer's Computer Supplies, now the Stock-quart. "What's going on?" Mal was the first asked.

The man covered in armour snorted. "Two of our guys found this pig just laying there, trying to move him this morning. I guarantee that it's sick."