Buzz

The Meeting

Valarie POV

Things are getting bad. As I walked through the makeshift camp we constructed, people looked at me with a combination of awe and fear. I preferred the latter.

The Red Queen was right - it is far better to be feared than loved. It gets things done, and I needed things to be done.

The amount of Freaks were growing exponentially. I've seen more and more of them on the streets during daylight. Yesterday, there were twenty-six on Chariot Avenue - which was very far from this camp - which was in sector C. Today, when I went back to the avenue, there were fifty-three.

I'm not scared of the Freaks. Their flaming-red, peeling skin. Their milky-green eyes - no doubt blinding them. Their affinity to bite chunks out of any living thing.

None of it frightened me anymore.

A greater amount of Freaks means a greater requirement of fighters. Simple logic. I have 148 people depending on me to keep them fed, clothed and safe.

A hundred and forty-eight human shields if things go South.

The camp was located out of town - ways off a highway. It was a farm with one house on the premises. The grass was a comforting green that surrounded the entire area. More weeds than grass. It was optimal, it would do for now. He located it. After that, makeshift fences were put up, a few of the camp members were engineers. They were located hiding in their apartments, wobbly men unsure of how to react - what to do.

The duty was placed solely on them to construct boarders against the outside world. It took a while but eventually a 3 metre, thick, wooden wall was constructed around the farm. It was later fortified with solid steel beams scavenged from a scrapyard the scouts found. The beams were dug into the ground, leaning against the wooden wall that was nailed - excessively - to solid wooden beams. The wall encompassed the entire premises.

Now there was a sense of safety. I haven't told anyone about the increasing number of Freaks - I'm not obligated to. I am in charge now, I make the decisions and they all know it. Everyone here has a job. A man who does not work, has no right to eat. I had forty-seven guards, eight stationed around the perimeter and the rest wandering through the camp, maintaining order and cooperation. The others had varying jobs to do, cooking, teaching how to survive, taking care of children, etc. At around the age of fifteen, children were regarded as adults and thus were assigned duties - put to work.

Unfortunate but necessary.

Once inside the house - wooden floorboards, dusty beige walls, pictures of an old couple and their family, nothing special - I went straight to the living room. That was the 'command centre'. The men in the room stood to their feet and saluted in unison, "Sir!"

I suppose it's natural to them - to show respect to their superiors. Military tradition.

I didn't care for it.

I ignored them and walked to the city map pinned on the table. Areas were crossed off as danger zones. There were too many Freaks there. Currently the red zones were at Saint Claire's Hospital, MediPharm Hospital, Angela Clinic, the business district and several smaller - yet populated - areas. Like police stations. The first place people would go during the initial phase of the... affliction.