I drove, updating the team on my conversation with Rajan as we headed back to New Jurong. The consensus was unanimous. We didn’t trust him, but we’d make the most of the open 7-Eleven.

  The plan had changed. Instead of asking Jess to quietly assess who was capable and willing to access the system, we now needed to focus on the leadership in New Jurong. We’d only been there half a day, and things were moving too quickly. We still didn’t know enough about the Temple’s activities, though Farah had mentioned that they sometimes attacked the settlements. I suspected, however, that these were more shows of force to keep people in line than true assaults. A full augmented team of Temple soldiers would make short work of a group without any powers or abilities.

  The weight of the decisions pressed on me. We were in charge now. It wasn’t just about surviving anymore; it was about finding a way to thrive, or at least not let the situation swallow us whole. But there was still the matter of meeting the sector’s clearance conditions: [Total Control of the West]. A headache started to form as we talked through the various threads we needed to follow up on.

  The road to New Jurong stretched out before us, feeling longer than usual as my mind raced. Rajan’s words about the rebellion and his “project management” left a sour taste in my mouth. The man wasn’t just some leader, he was a strategist, and I still wasn’t sure if he was a threat or an ally.

  But there was no time to dwell on that now. We had work to do when we got back, starting with dinner. We needed to offload the thousands of meals packed in our inventory, and I was hoping that dinner would buy us some goodwill within the camp.

  It was just after 7 p.m. when we drove into New Jurong, greeted by surprised looks from the guards. They were already waiting for us, no doubt having heard the roar of the Digger long before we arrived. We parked and made our way straight to Prema.

  Her eyes widened in shock and incredulity as we described the amount and variety of food we had in our inventory. She stared at us, stunned, and we couldn’t help but smile at the reaction.

  Without missing a beat, she quickly cleared the mess hall of the people who had been milling about and brought in a few helpers to set up a larger distribution table. Farah was one of the volunteers who immediately got to work. She sighed in relief when she saw us, but her eyes fell on Shawn and Siva’s torn clothes, a look of apprehension crossing her face.

  She opened her mouth to ask about it, but Jess stepped in before she could, promising that everything would be explained later.

  We took turns retrieving the packed meals from our inventories, much to the awe of the gathered volunteers. I remembered then that the people here hadn’t had their systems activated yet, so to them, this was something truly new.

  Prema quickly restored order, organizing the food by cuisine type and dietary requirements, ensuring everything was neatly arranged for the upcoming dinner. By now, a throng of onlookers had gathered outside the mess hall entrance, watching us work.

  We spoke as we moved.

  “Does New Jurong have some sort of leadership or council managing it?” I asked, placing another pack of mee goreng, the popular Indian fried noodle staple, onto the growing pile.

  “There’s me, Mr. Chen, Shaheerah, Frank De Souza, and Farah here,” she replied, stepping back to give more orders to the helpers. “But we're more of a council of necessity than an elected one. We just stepped up to get things organized and keep this place running.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  I nodded, understanding. “Can we have just the council and us for dinner? We need to talk. There are things I’d prefer to discuss with your team first before bringing it up to the rest of the residents here.”

  She eyed me for a moment, then turned to a young Chinese guy who was struggling to arrange packs of fish ball noodles. She gave him a few quick instructions, and he headed out of the mess hall via a back entrance.

  “We’ll eat upstairs,” Prema replied, motioning toward the second level of the mess hall. I knew the second floor was where the NCOs, the Non-Commissioned Officers, like Sergeants, would normally have their meals if this place were still operational.

  With the food organized, Prema told us to head upstairs before she started the dinner service. I was more than happy to comply. I didn’t want to be mobbed by people thanking us. It wasn’t anything special, and I didn’t want them to feel indebted.

  We stood at the parapet, observing the dinner service below. The sight of the happy, smiling faces of the people as they collected their food, drinks, and enjoyed a hot meal was a comfort. For a moment, the chaos of the outside world seemed far away.

  As we turned to face the stairs, we saw the five members of the council walking up. They settled at the table that had been prepared for us.

  Aside from Prema and Farah, who we’d already met, there was a Eurasian man in his fifties, who I figured must be Frank De Souza. Next to him was a Chinese man in his thirties, whom I assumed was Mr. Chen. Finally, there was a young Malay woman in her twenties, wearing a traditional dress and headscarf. Shaheerah, I presumed.

  This was… interesting. Despite everything that had happened, the council still reflected the racial diversity of Singapore. Even in this new world, the old world’s demographic makeup persisted.

  Farah made quick introductions, and after the usual thanks and words of appreciation, we got down to business.

  We started by recounting how we had escaped the north sector and the steps we had taken to stay alive. We explained how the 7-Eleven worked, how the system functioned with leveling up, loot drops, and purchases. Essentially, we were giving them a walkthrough of how things worked in this new world. They listened intensely, occasionally interjecting with questions to clarify points about skills, abilities, and food purchases.

  They were most horrified when we shared the details of our recent battle with the lurchers and our conversation with Rajan. It was hard to tell if they were more frightened of the lurchers or the rebels.

  When we explained why they were stuck here and the conditions for release from the west sector, the gravity of the situation hit hardest. They couldn’t remain passive participants any longer, they had to prepare for the forces at play. Forces that either wanted to conscript them or wipe them out completely.

  For a while, silence hung in the air. Then Frank spoke up, his voice quiet. “I have grandchildren living in Pasir Ris. My daughter… I wanted to go east when this all started, to find them.”

  I nodded, understanding. “There’s a way out. But the way out is to fight. Not everyone has to be a combatant though. We could explore the classes. Some of you might become healers or take on other support roles. But from what we’ve experienced, you need to be an active participant to leave.”

  “So we ask for volunteers, correct?” Shaheerah asked. She had been quiet during most of our explanation, but I had noticed her concentrating and analyzing everything in the background. “That’s what you negotiated the 7-Eleven for. We need our first five hundred.”

  We nodded in agreement as Shawn pinged the group chat.

  Shawn: Noticed she said, first five hundred. I like her already.

  Chris: Good. She’ll be in your squad then. No way am I organizing five hundred people in chat. And how did you bold in chat anyway?

  Shawn: Right-click, General Chris.

  Siva: General? What the fuck, dude.

  Jess: He’s right. We have to split them into teams. And train them.

  Shaheerah stood and walked to the parapet overlooking the diners below. We all stood and joined her. As we watched the laughter and merriment of the people, I couldn’t help but wonder how many of them would be dead before this was over. I saw the grim expressions on the faces around me, and I knew we all shared the same thought.

  “Town Hall?” Farah asked, breaking the silence.

  “Yes. I’ll go down and make the announcement now,” Mr. Chen said, standing up. He walked toward the stairs, heading down to the main floor. As he stood on a chair, tapping a microphone for attention, I realized this was it. There was no turning back now.