The convoy representing the might and reach of the General rolled into the parking lot of the mall hot and straight.
There were three trucks, that looked more like they belonged in a military convoy rather than a farm, but they were big enough to hold the supplies and people that the General demanded. Each one had a marking stenciled in black against the forest green, with a number.
n stood on the outside rails with their rifles up, ready for action on at a mont’s notice.
There were no flags, no banners, nothing really marking them as the General’s, but still, no one dared to get in their way.
Not to ntion, the n had just the kind of discipline that didn’t need decoration.
Captain Harlow dropped from the front seat before the tires even stopped turning.
He buttoned his collar, checked the lot with a brief glance, and lifted two fingers. One man went high on the smashed escalator. Two peeled wide to the flanks. The third shadowed his shoulder by habit.
The mont they entered into the mall, it was obvious why Captain Harlow had gotten the hastily written ssage delivered by carrier pigeon.
The West Mall looked stripped at a glance.
But he wasn’t too worried at the mont. A lot looked stripped these days, but that didn’t an it was necessarily empty.
He pushed through the half-jamd door and let his eyes adjust to the dimness of the entrance way. Cool air sat under the dead skylights, heat pooled where the sun had broke in. The place slled like dust and old sugar.
His head snapped to the right the mont he heard movent near the center court.
Six figures. Four n, one woman, and an animal that wasn’t a pet. Exactly like the report.
Harlow stopped at ten paces, waiting for them to reach his location. He didn’t point his rifle, he wasn’t braced for impact. But he didn’t drop it either.
"Captain Harlow. Acting for the General."
There was no reaction from the other party. Just the group continued to make their way forward like he was nothing but a paper door that would give way with the slightest push.
The big one stepped forward a fraction, his shoulders set, and his palms easy. He wasn’t holding a gun, but that didn’t put Captain Harlow at ease. If anything, it made him even more of a threat. After all, no one survived this far into the end of the world without a gun.
"Zubair," grunted the man as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart like he had been trained as a soldier... or a cartel mber.
Another man leaned a hip into a counter like he had all the ti in the world.
The tall blond rolled his shoulders once like he was getting comfortable.
The quiet one stood a half-step behind the line, his hands empty, and his eyes cold.
The woman watched without blinking while the wolf pressed against her side like she was the only think keeping it grounded.
"This property sits in Central Region," Harlow went on. "Everything in this Region belongs to the General. Therefore, the stores here are under the General’s protection. We’re here to restore order."
The woman’s tone didn’t move. "By all ans," she said, her voice soft and lyrical. There was sothing that seed to call to Captain Harlow, but he pushed it aside. "Feel free to restore the order here. We were just leaving anyway."
"You’ve taken supplies."
Zubair didn’t blink. "We’ve taken what we need."
"That makes it my business."
The woman shifted her weight, just enough to make the wolf’s ear flick. "Tell him it’s handled."
"It doesn’t work like that."
"Start charging admission?" the lazy one cut in, his grin small and an. "Or do you bill by the threat?"
"Lachlan," Zubair warned without looking.
Harlow let the banter slide and waved his hand in the air. "People watch what happens in buildings like this. If you strip a floor and walk out, others think they can do it. That turns into rot. Rot turns into raids. The General keeps a line so that new lines don’t get drawn."
The quiet one’s jaw ticked. "You want your line more than you want people fed. That’s the problem."
"Structure keeps people fed," Harlow returned.
"Your structure. Your people," the woman answered. "Not ours."
He stepped in one pace and watched the edges. No flinch. No shuffle. Even the wolf held steady. He’d seen fear. This wasn’t it.
"You have until sundown."
The man with the map’s hands didn’t stop moving, but his eyes lifted. "You don’t set our clocks."
"You don’t want setting anything," Harlow replied.
The woman’s mouth edged toward a smile. "True."
He took in the scene like any good soldier took in the scene. He mapped the angles, the exits, the way the big one held the space like it belonged to him.
The way the blond didn’t stop smirking but had already chosen four places to kill from. The quiet one... Harlow didn’t like how still he was. n who moved like that didn’t miss.
"Stand down," he told his own left flank without raising his voice. The kid eased off the trigger. Good.
A woman in a black coat lingered at a distance with a binder clutched to her chest. The mall people. Harlow didn’t care about her. He cared about the six in front of him.
"You walk out before sundown," he set it plain. "You take what you’ve already loaded. You leave the rest. We don’t need more trouble than we already have."
The woman didn’t argue, but she didn’t agree either. "Since there is no such thing as sundown, that statent is a bit redundant, don’t you think?" she replied with a smile on her face.
Captain Harlow studied her as if he had never seen a female before.
Then again, there was no way he had ever seen a woman like her before.
Sothing was off about her.
Not the eyes. Not the wolf. Not even the slight purple haze to her skin like she was too cold.
It was the way the four n marked her without crowding her. Like she was their center of gravity.
He hated that.
And he knew that the General would hate it even more.
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