As soon as Calista and the others went inside, quiet chatter broke out among the people at the base.
"Thank God they all made it back safely!" Mrs. Howard crossed herself and let out a relieved breath.
"I knew Miss Norton and the others would be fine!" Ben said excitedly to Kevin and Aleksei.
Kevin bumped fists with him, and Aleksei nodded with a grin.
Ming nervously twisted the hem of her clothes and asked Elena beside her in a small voice, "Teacher… will they find out who attacked our people? Will… will there be a war?"
Elena wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tried to sound calm.
"Intelligence is the key to survival, Ming. Once we know who the enemy is, we'll know how to protect ourselves. Trust Calista. Trust Leah and the others."
Kevin added from the side, "Maybe we'll be able to restart the water diversion project soon!"
Merle leaned toward Tom and lowered his voice.
"Hey, man. Bet you a cigarette that guy won't last half an hour in interrogation."
Tom didn't even look up.
"No bet. That's a guaranteed loss."
Merle looked amused.
"You're that confident, huh?"
Tom shook his head.
"If you knew how Rock Fortress grew into what it is today under Calista, you'd be confident too."
The door to the command center closed behind Leah and the others, shutting out the noise of the base. Inside, the relaxed atmosphere outside was instantly replaced by a heavy seriousness.
The sketch Bossie had drawn on the tablet was rough, but clear.
Calista studied it again, her finger resting on the area marked "cells."
"The enemy has more than sixty fighters, but over a hundred workers. And more than twenty prisoners—including National Guard soldiers." Her voice was low, but anger simmered beneath it.
Fuck.
That crossed the line.
No wonder Rock Fortress couldn't recruit anyone. They hadn't even seen a trace of the scattered National Guard survivors they were hoping to find.
Turns out someone else had already scooped them all up.
Stealing my manpower, attacking my search convoy, almost killing my people…
Lorenzo, just wait until I get my hands on you.
"This Lorenzo isn't just looting resources," Calista continued. "He's building a system. A system based on fear and slavery."
"And he's doing it efficiently," Bossie added, bringing up another rough list.
"Based on thermal signatures and audio recordings, their production line is running at least two shifts. Their output could be considerable."
"They have manpower, and they have raw materials. After all, they raided the last evacuation convoy of the National Guard and seized the industrial park."
"So they can keep producing bullets… maybe even weapons?" Carver spat.
"And here we are carefully collecting spent casings just to reload."
"That's what it looks like for now," Leah said.
"A well-organized enemy with solid weapons, continuous production capacity, and a clear leader. Much more dangerous than scattered raider gangs."
Calista fell silent for a moment.
The air in the room seemed to grow heavy.
Then she slowly stood up.
"A map and speculation aren't enough. We need an insider's view."
She glanced toward the door.
"Time to have a proper conversation with our guest. Right, Carver?"
Calista remembered that in the original storyline, Carver had been one of the Pope's most capable subordinates—very skilled at interrogation.
Back when she watched the show, she thought the Reapers were terrifying.
Now that she was on the other side of things…
They suddenly seemed very useful.
A flash of almost cruel excitement passed over Carver's face. He rolled his neck, the joints popping softly.
"I've been waiting to hear that, Calista."
...
The interrogation room at Rock Fortress had once been an underground stone cellar used to store aged wine barrels.
It was extremely well soundproofed.
Cold. Damp.
A single dim emergency lamp hung overhead, casting shifting shadows. The air smelled faintly of sour wine and mold.
A bucket of icy water was thrown over the prisoner.
He jolted awake violently, coughing and choking as he tried to struggle.
Only then did he realize he was still tightly bound to a heavy wooden chair, thick restraints digging into his flesh.
At some point the sack had been pulled off his head.
The sudden dim light made him squint.
The first thing he saw was a very beautiful blonde woman standing in front of him.
Her gray-blue eyes looked like gemstones, and her striking appearance felt completely out of place in this grim underground chamber.
Calista stood with her arms folded, leaning against a stone wall in the distance, her expression cold and unreadable like a statue.
Leah and Rickson stood beside her, equally silent.
But what made the prisoner's heart nearly stop was the man slowly walking toward him.
Carver.
Carver had taken off his tactical jacket. He wore only a dark short-sleeved shirt, revealing thick arms covered with old, ugly scars.
In his hand, he casually played with a tire iron.
It looked ordinary enough, but the metal gleamed coldly under the light.
"Good evening, friend."
Carver's voice was surprisingly calm—almost polite.
"How are you feeling? Are the accommodations here to your liking?"
The prisoner was a white man in his thirties with closely shaved hair and a scar across his face. Even normally, he probably wasn't someone easy to mess with.
He panted heavily, trying to suppress his fear and sound tough.
"Fuck you! Who the hell are you people? Do you know what happens to anyone who messes with the Red Scarf Gang?"
"Mr. Lorenzo and Wagner will flatten this shithole! They'll feed all of you to the walkers!"
Leah frowned slightly.
Wagner?
Could it really be the person she knew?
Carver seemed not to hear the threat at all.
Instead, he leaned in a little closer, studying the man's face with curious focus, as if examining an object.
"Wow. 'Red Scarf Gang.' Pretty cool name."
"Mr. Lorenzo sounds like a big deal. Tell me about him."
"Fuck off! I'm not saying a damn thing!"
"Oh, come on."
Carver sounded almost disappointed.
"We just want to make a friend. Have a little chat."
"You see, we rescued you from that noisy factory and gave you such a… quiet private room. Pretty considerate of us, right?"
He lightly tapped the tire iron against the stone floor.
Clang. Clang.
The sharp metallic sound grated on the ears.
"I don't know anything! I'm just a gate guard!"
"A gate guard?" Carver raised an eyebrow.
"A gate guard doesn't get to boss people around on the production line. And a gate guard doesn't talk to the truck crews like you did."
"My people heard everything."
He gestured toward Rickson and Leah.
"You're not being honest, my friend. That hurts my feelings a little."
The prisoner's eyes flickered. His jaw tightened.
Carver sighed.
The sound echoed clearly through the quiet stone chamber.
"Look…"
He slowly walked behind the prisoner. His voice dropped, low and heavy.
"In the apocalypse, time is… very precious."
"We don't have time to play the 'who blinks first' game."
"So I'm going to help you…"
"…speed things up a little."