Chapter 130: Desire |
Jason Morgan, with a bump on his forehead, felt as if he was incredibly unlucky.
He was originally an employee at a small factory in Revival City, doing statistical work.
He didn’t possess any particular skills nor wield any authority; he merely did his job and collected his salary.
His days were undoubtedly better than those of the outcasts on the city outskirts who struggled to find food, but his life was still far from luxurious.
With a small room in the inner city and his wife’s job, he managed to barely support their three children.
After the war, his wife, for reasons unknown, came to trust the newly appointed Governor’s administration.
Not only did she join the new system herself, but she also spent two days at home trying to persuade him.
“We’re literate, can do arithmetic, and have work experience—this is our chance to get ahead.”
“I heard that Madam Osena was initially promoted just because she could read and write!”
Mesmerized, he agreed.
After undergoing initial background checks and training, he was assigned to the Immigration Office under the Ministry of Civil Affairs.
At the time, he thought that while the conditions were tough and he had to work outside the city, his initial position had been set at rank E9.
With his wife’s rank also contributing to their family allowance, they could sustain their family.
Along with additional pay, they could even keep up their previous quality of life.
Moreover, before heading off on this “business trip,” their newly promoted bureau chief had encouraged them, saying it would be a valuable experience.
He added that doing well on this assignment would be considered a noteworthy achievement and that he would apply for the Revival Medal for the most outstanding performers, which would be prioritized in future promotions.
This enticing promise completely hooked Morgan.
With his wife’s enthusiastic support, he registered that same night.
The very next day, they were organized into a work group and transported by vehicle to Major Pobov’s army unit.
When they first handled a population center of about a thousand people, they were a bit flustered and faced some obstacles.
However, they eventually got things sorted out and became the first group to complete the migration assignment.
Their success earned them commendation from the chief over telecommunication.
They were thrilled, but before they could rest, they were ordered to Three Pools Town, which had just been taken over.
With a population of over three thousand, the town was supposedly named “Three Pools” due to three large ponds nearby that provided a fish supply.
The town’s residents mainly relied on those fish; they ate some and dried the rest into jerky or canned them for trade.
Additionally, with its favorable location, the town frequently hosted merchant caravans.
They had even established a tavern, which provided lodging and entertainment services for traveling merchants.
According to these claims, Morgan’s work group concluded that the town could be retained as a transit hub for trade.
With the three fish-producing lakes, it could serve as a fish farming area, thus producing food.
They began their work accordingly.
However, upon closer inspection, they soon sensed something was amiss.
There were indeed “three pools,” but they were merely three “ponds.”
They weren’t quite puddles, but at best, they could be called small lakes with limited aquatic production due to poor management.
As for the tavern?
There was indeed one, but it had only about ten rooms, and the ground floor had about twenty tables at most.
Calling it a trade hub seemed far-fetched.
If it had been a village of a few hundred people, the three ponds and the tavern might barely sustain them.
But three thousand people?
They’d have starved long ago if they relied solely on that.
The people of Three Pools Town had lied.
At first, Morgan didn’t understand why they would lie.
However, on the third night after the army left and only his work group remained, he witnessed something unsettling.
He had gone out to relieve himself when he saw crates of weapons being removed from storage.
As townsfolk began arming themselves, he realized something was very wrong.
These people had feigned loyalty and submission when the army was present but began arming their forces as soon as the soldiers departed.
Later, he even saw a large group of raiders entering the town, mingling harmoniously with the residents.
Reflecting on the earlier findings of population and production disparities, he finally understood—they had walked into a den of thieves!
How could those three small ponds and one rundown tavern support three thousand people?
They weren’t sustaining themselves through honest trade.
While they indeed profited from passing merchants, it wasn’t in the way he had originally thought.
They were operating a “black market,” robbing merchants, setting ambushes…
If their survival depended on exploiting passing trade, they managed it through robbery and extortion of nearby communities.
They even served as a base for fencing stolen goods, resupplying bandits, and sheltering fugitives.
In this manner, feeding a population of three thousand wasn’t an issue.
Morgan broke into a cold sweat and quickly returned to the room, sharing his discovery with his six colleagues.
Everyone was terrified.
Even during the fiercest battles in Revival City, they had only heard the gunfire and felt the tremors of orbital bombardment hitting the city’s outskirts.
They had trembled in fear at home, but none of that had presented a clear threat to their lives as it did now.
If they stayed, they were surely doomed.
Whatever the raiders intended to do, it was clear they wouldn’t let them leave.
The seven of them held a quick meeting, deciding to escape before anyone restricted their movements or harmed them.
Unfortunately, it was too late.
They weren’t stealth experts or even soldiers; they hadn’t received any training in these matters, so how could they escape undetected?
In fact, they hadn’t gone far before they were caught.
Morgan was struck twice in the head, leaving him dazed.
When he regained his senses, he found himself tied up in a room with his colleagues.
Now, regret overwhelmed him.
He had let himself be blinded by his boss’s promises and tempted by the extra allowances for this business trip.
He had only seen the benefits, forgetting how dangerous the wastelands were.
Now what?
“There’s no way out—we’re dead.”
One of his companions, rather optimistic, said this.
A true pessimist, on the other hand, muttered, “Is there any way to die quickly and painlessly? Raiders out here really do eat people. Some of the more depraved ones will even cut pieces off while you’re alive to ensure the meat stays fresh…”
Morgan, still recovering from his dizziness, nearly fainted again when he heard this.
Just days ago, he had been sitting at home with his wife, dreaming about a bright future.
And now, they were telling him he might be eaten alive?
Morgan’s mindset shattered.
He didn’t want to die, so he racked his brain, but he couldn’t come up with any plan.
The seven of them were tightly bound, lying on the floor, barely able to squirm like caterpillars, let alone try to untie themselves.
Even if they could free themselves, they were unarmed, and two armed raiders stood guard outside the door.
What could they possibly do?
Try as he might, he could think of no solution.
And then a more desperate situation arose.
Footsteps echoed outside.
It sounded like several people were approaching, starting a conversation with the guards outside before a dispute broke out.
Though muffled through the walls, he heard fragments that made his face go pale.
“…orders…I’m here…are these the ones?…shoot them…bury them outside…let them go…absolutely not…”
These words drained the color from Morgan’s face.
It was over!
They were here to execute them!
Just as he was thinking this, the door opened.
Three armed raiders stepped inside.
Morgan was terrified.
He thought this was the end.
At this moment, all he could do was close his eyes and prepare for death, hoping it would be quick.
But then, he heard one of the newcomers speak.
“Chief Terrell has ordered me to kill you all.”
As he expected…
Just as I thought… Morgan thought to himself.
Then he heard a twist that gave him a flicker of hope:
“But I can let you go, only if you agree to one condition.”
Before Morgan could speak, his colleague beat him to it:
“What condition?”
The newcomer sighed, “Chief Terrell insists on opposing Revival City, which I disagree with. I see this as an opportunity to wash my hands of this, stop plundering, and live as a peaceful citizen of Revival City. What’s wrong with that?”
He paused, then added with some dejection, “But, I can’t change his mind. So, I took the task to execute you, but I want to let you go. When Terrell is defeated, you must remember my kindness. If I’m captured, you have to rescue me; if I escape, I hope you report this and help us secure a place in the New Alliance.”
Morgan hurriedly responded, thumping his chest, “Of course! We’ll certainly do that!”
The others also hurriedly made various promises.
The newcomer relaxed a little and threw them some clothes, “Then quickly change into these, and I can find a route to have my men escort you out. I still have to find some bodies to burn as yours; we’re short on time.”
Morgan and the others sprang into action.
While hurriedly changing, it crossed his mind:
The promotional work for the New Alliance policies in Sanchi Town was actually effective.
After changing, Morgan and the others were led out.
At the moment of parting, Morgan hesitated but still said, “You might as well escape with us. Otherwise, if your act of releasing us is exposed, it could be very dangerous.”
“If I escape with you, we won’t make it. My identity will cover for you. As for the risk of exposure… I’ll be prepared.”
“All right then.” Since the man had said so, Morgan didn’t insist, but he asked another question:
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Reddy Bore.”
…
“Reddy Bore… these seven, are they really from the New Alliance?”
Faced with Chief Terrell’s question, no matter how much turmoil was in his heart, at least Bol managed to maintain a calm exterior: “Of course.”
Chief Terrell’s green eye peered at him for a good while, then turned his gaze onto the other members beside Bol, “Then tell me, why is it that your Captain Bol specifically wants the bodies burnt?”
Bol opened his mouth, hoping to speak, but Chief Terrell lifted a hand to stop him.
"Shut your mouth. I didn’t ask you. Say one more word, and I’ll kill you,” he said.
Bol could only close his mouth and remain silent.
The brothers beside him, however, couldn’t maintain the composure that he had when facing the notorious and brutal Chief Terrell.
Terrell looked at these men with their nervous and confused expressions and revealed a fierce grin:
"Speak up. The one who speaks, I’ll spare your life,” he said.
...
Finally, someone couldn’t resist any longer.
A tall, thin fellow quickly distanced himself from his brothers and said, “It was Bol! Bol convinced us to do this! He let the person go, talking about needing to keep a way out, not to take things too far!”
As these words were spoken, Bol and the comrades next to him turned pale. Some were shaking so badly they could barely stand; others cursed the traitor; some sought to make excuses…
Bol’s gaze, however, was locked on Terrell.
At this moment, life and death lay within the great leader’s whim.
As the noise gradually subsided, Terrell calmly took out a gun and spoke, “Do you have anything else to say?”
Taking a deep breath, Bol answered, “All I did was for the good of our brothers. If we killed everyone, we’d make an enemy for life, and then…
"You’re pretty good at keeping options open for yourself,” he was interrupted.
Bol tried a different approach, earnestly pleading, “Chief, I’ve followed you for ten years now. The brothers from the early days are dead or missing, and few of us are left. We’ve built a great enterprise, with thousands dependent on us for a living, and we’ve united many tribes around us… We’ve come to an end here.
"What will come next? We couldn’t stand against the old Alliance Government, and we stand even less of a chance against the New Alliance Government. Haven’t you seen the army that recently came here? They have armored vehicles! They have tanks! They have artillery! Are we really meant to fight such an enemy?
"Though we greatly outnumber them, and we have the advantage of surprise, even if we win, they will send a second, a third army. We can’t afford such losses.
"What’s wrong with taking this chance to join the New Alliance’s system? All the brothers would have a place, and you could still lead us, enlisted by the Alliance into the army. Look at that Major Perbov, how impressive he seemed arriving in that armored vehicle. In the future, you could also be a general… Wouldn’t that be good? I really don’t understand why you insist on being a bandit, a plunderer?”
Bol’s words indeed came across as sincere.
Regrettably… Terrell was utterly unmoved.
He quietly said, “Are you done?”
"I’m done,” Bol replied.
"For the sake of your father, who once saved my life, and for the ten years you’ve been with me, I gave you a chance to speak. You know if you begged for mercy, I would have let you live, but unfortunately, you have said such things,” Terrell responded.
He pulled the trigger.
The bullet mercilessly passed through Bol’s head.
The raider captain immediately fell to the ground, lifeless.
Terrell looked at the other followers of Bol with disgust and waved his hand: “Kill all these traitors.”
A burst of gunfire ensued, leaving no one alive.
Then, Terrell turned to the fellow who had reported Bol earlier.
The man was so scared that he was about to wet his pants: “You… you said you would spare my life.”
"Yes,” Terrell approached him, his hands gripping the man’s head, “I did say that. I will forgive your act of betrayal, but you caused the death of my dear nephew Bol; I never said I would forgive you for that.”
"You…”
The man barely had time to say anything more when he felt a tremendous force.
Terrell broke his neck with his bare hands.
After executing the men, the raiders dragged the bodies away, while others continued to keep watch. Terrell turned to the few people who had been standing behind him, watching the scene unfold, and with a grin said:
"In my life, I despise traitors the most. I apologize for the display, gentlemen.”
"Nothing to apologize for, Chief. You’re still merciful,” someone replied.
"I don’t know how old Bol could produce such a naive fool of a son,” remarked another.
"We’ve roamed this wasteland for so many years, relying on our guns, being tougher than anyone else. To expect us to lay down our arms and become farmers, workers? Hell, I’d rather die!”
Among those standing behind Terrell were some of his tribal leaders and some raider chiefs he had invited from elsewhere. At this moment, they were all clamoring, praising Terrell for the killing.
Meanwhile, they left unsaid what was tacitly understood among them.
What Bol had said wasn’t entirely without merit. Were the days of being raiders actually that good?
They burned, killed, and plundered, but there had to be something to plunder. Finding a fat sheep, a wealthy merchant, a survivor’s camp with some savings, they could have a full meal, but such opportunities were not always there, and people wouldn’t just willingly hand over their possessions. To rob at gunpoint meant risking lives.
Even after attaining significant military strength, they dared not ruthlessly plunder many camps; they had to learn sustainable development. They would demand tribute from weaker survivor camps. But those camps barely eked out an existence themselves—how much could they give? In times when life was hard for everyone, the raiders didn’t feast on meat and drink every day.
In Sanchi Town, during hard times, it was common for people to starve to death. Those who survived would divide and consume the dead, in an effort to endure the lean years.
Under such circumstances, if what the officers from the New Alliance were saying was true, as long as you worked, basic food and warmth were guaranteed; then what harm was there in becoming a farmer, a worker, or even a soldier?
For the lower-class plunderers, it was indeed so, but it was different for those present.
No matter how hard the days were, could they ever really become unbearable for their leaders?
After all, they were the rulers. They received offerings; they commanded thousands of plunderers, roaming freely through the wastelands, whistling past, living with satisfaction.
Having joined the New Alliance, those middle and lower-class looters could perhaps conceal their pasts and live peaceful lives.
But what about these leaders?
...
Could they still dictate and act recklessly?
I’m afraid not.
It was nearly impossible to expect a group of plunderer leaders to think of the greater good, considering the welfare of all their subordinates, and giving up their privileges.
However, their minds weren’t completely controlled by selfish desires, forgetting the reality of the situation.
They were well aware that, in their current state, even though they had a few thousand guns, it was still unrealistic to confront directly the troops led by Major Perbov. Numerous men and guns they had, but they were seriously lacking in heavy firepower. With only twenty light mountain cannons and some individual rocket launchers, they could threaten the heavy armored vehicles, but the risk was too high; deploying all their forces might not guarantee the destruction of even a few tanks.
A single anti-tank group encountering an armored vehicle or tank definitely had the potential to cause damage, but the requirements were too stringent. It wasn’t impossible for them to stealthily approach within a few dozen meters and then hit the vehicle’s side armor with two or three armor-piercing rockets. But it was more likely they’d be discovered before getting close, and then a barrage from the enemy would wipe them all out.
It was precisely for this reason that they had never considered a head-on collision with the New Alliance’s military forces.
Otherwise, there would have been no need to play the part of compliant citizens when Major Perbov first arrived with his troops.
In fact, they were prepared to give up on Sanchi Town altogether.
They weren’t any sort of legitimate settlement; whether it was the industry Mesh had built, those three broken ponds, or the decrepit tavern, if they decided not to cling to these, they would simply depart. Once the word was out, why couldn’t they sleep anywhere out in the wilderness?
Guerrilla warfare was nothing remarkable for a gang of bandits who lived off plunder.
There weren’t many mountains here, a few small woods but not many, yet most crucially, there were plenty of extensive urban ruins!
These were even better suited for guerrilla warfare than any other kind of terrain.
Take part in whatever business is available, strike when there’s an opportunity for an ambush, and retreat into the city whenever a powerful enemy force approaches. I have no lair, no foundation, are your armored forces going to come into the urban ruins to fight me? In the ruins, do armored forces have the agility, the speed of a person?
However, before actually moving into the ruins or the forest, they still had to launch an ambush.
After those officers from the New Alliance had fled, Terrell realized that Major Perbov’s forces would surely come.
Far from telling his troops to hurry and escape, he decided instead to stage an ambush along the way.
————
This chapter is 6k words; I’ll try to push out a larger chapter tomorrow.
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