Gwendolyn thought for a moment, then gave a definite answer.
"Although I didn't see them myself, based on what you've told me, they shouldn't be unreasonable people. They're definitely not raiders.
And the fact that they let you bring back the blades and spears means their camp is strong and doesn't lack firepower. They simply don't see our little bit of armed force as a threat."
Benjamin turned to his old partner Knox and said, "See, buddy? I don't think things are as bad as you're making them out to be. Who knows, maybe their camp actually needs experienced, skilled people like us."
David looked at the people arguing, then at the companions around him with numb or longing eyes, especially those gaunt, sickly children. His clenched fists slowly loosened a little, but the resentment in his eyes did not fade.
He muttered, "Even if... even if we don't fight, we can't just let it end like this. There must be more stuff in that warehouse!
They can't move all of it! We can wait until they leave, then go..."
"And then what?" Clifford cut him off wearily. "Get caught by them again? You think they'll still be this 'polite' next time?
David, wake up! Marcus and Leo are still in their hands!"
David flinched as if he had been whipped, then lowered his head sharply and said nothing more, though his chest was still rising and falling hard.
In the center of the camp, the five boxes of biscuits sat silently, like a mirror reflecting the deep cracks inside this community on the verge of collapse.
...
Rock Fortress at dusk felt like another world entirely compared with Marcus's ruined logging camp.
Tall reinforced walls wound along the mountainside, topped with barbed wire. The watchtowers shone with bright lights, and figures moved within them.
Inside the walls, the main building area was brightly lit. It was not luxurious, but it was filled with orderly life and movement.
In the command room, a spread-out map lay across a heavy solid-wood table, marked with the locations of Rock Fortress, Blackberry Ranch, the prison, and the newly discovered Norris Warehouse.
Leah pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped inside with the cold still clinging to her.
She took off her snow-dusted winter coat, revealing the fitted tactical suit underneath. Fatigue showed on her face, but her back remained straight.
Calista stood in front of the map with her back to the door.
Her long golden hair was simply tied behind her head. She wore a fitted dark wool sweater, work pants, and sturdy military boots, her figure tall and upright.
Hearing the movement, Calista turned around. "Sis, did everything go smoothly?"
"We're back. The supplies aren't all moved yet."
Calista gave a slight nod, her gaze sweeping over Leah to make sure she was unharmed. Then she gestured for her to sit and rest. "What's the situation?"
Leah walked to the table but did not sit right away. She braced both hands on the edge of the map and began her report in concise terms.
"The warehouse is a Cold War-era civil defense facility. Its scale is far beyond what we expected. It's roughly enough emergency supplies for an entire town.
The main supplies are large quantities of 'multi-purpose emergency biscuits' produced in 1962. The seals are intact, and they're edible. They taste terrible, but they provide basic calories.
There are also military blankets, basic medical supplies, buckets, tools, and more.
Based on our preliminary estimate, the total amount is enough to support our current population through five winters like this, with plenty left over."
Calista listened quietly, her fingers unconsciously tapping the location of Norris Reservoir.
"But," Leah continued, her tone turning serious, "we encountered another group of survivors."
She described in detail the encounter with Marcus's group, the standoff, their own restraint, and the whole process that ended with a temporary peace secured by leaving hostages behind.
When Calista heard that the other side had more than eighty people, including the elderly, the weak, women, and children, mostly former Norris Dam workers and nearby community residents, her brow shifted slightly.
"More than eighty people..." she repeated softly, as if weighing the number. "What kind of shape are they in?"
"Bad," Leah answered without hesitation. "According to Marcus and what we saw, that camp is severely short on food and medicine, and their defenses are weak.
Their people are gaunt, and morale is low. But their organizational structure seems to still be intact, and they have a recognized leader."
Just then, there was a knock at the door, and Rickson walked in with a tablet used to register supplies.
Calista gestured for them to sit, then had Leah briefly repeat the situation.
After listening, Rickson was the first to speak. "Sounds like a lot of trouble."
He stated his position plainly. "More than eighty hungry mouths. A group whose background we don't know, and one we just had a conflict with."
He looked at Calista. "Calista, my advice is to finish transporting the supplies as soon as possible and reinforce the warehouse for later use.
Keep our distance from this Norris Community. At most, we conduct limited trade. Deeper contact brings more risk than benefit."
As Rock Fortress's head steward, Rickson's way of thinking leaned toward avoiding risk and keeping the current system stable.
Leah waited until he finished before speaking. "The risks are real, and Rickson has a point. But there may also be opportunity here."
She looked at Calista. "More than eighty people isn't just eighty mouths to feed. It could also mean eighty pairs of hands, along with the skills behind them.
Norris Dam workers mean expertise in water management, mechanical maintenance, and possibly even power systems.
That could be invaluable for improving hydropower in the Great Smoky Mountains, or even for restarting or making use of dam facilities in the future.
Among the other residents, there may also be basic labor we need: farmers, carpenters, craftsmen.
We're not short on supplies right now, but we are short on people. Especially skilled people who can help drive the base's long-term development."
Leah paused, then added, "And judging from this contact, they aren't hopeless thugs.
Marcus was willing to put down his weapon and stay as a hostage for the good of the whole group. That means he has responsibility and can be reasoned with.
If we can integrate them, we not only gain population, we also eliminate a potentially unstable neighbor and truly expand our influence into the Norris region."
Rickson frowned slightly, but he did not immediately object. He knew Leah was thinking in terms of longer-term development.
After considering it for a while, he flipped through the booklet in his hand and said, "From a supplies standpoint, the warehouse haul can indeed greatly ease our pressure.
But if we add more than eighty people all at once, especially frail people who need basic medical care and nutritional support, our reserves will be consumed much faster."
Calista remained silent, listening the whole time, her gaze moving back and forth between Norris Reservoir and Rock Fortress on the map.
Her mind rapidly weighed the pros and cons.
There were definitely drawbacks. In the short term, food and medicine would come under great pressure.
They would also have to invest effort into management to prevent internal conflicts, which might affect other development plans.