<span style="font-style: italic">''I don't know what happened, it just stopped working; I think I heard it making some noise.''</span><br/><br/>Abdul had considered walking away from this one job, not because it was out of his range of ability but because it was simply the property of one of the wives of the leader. The concept of polygamy would have been immoral to American society pre-collapse but as the balance of power grows and the guns go to one man, nobody dares judge the man openly. And neither could Abdul. Her name was Paula, sweet young thing, smart for her age and smart to the point where she could see the advantages of being basically a prostitute for a powerful man; guaranteed food, shelter, clothes and water, perhaps even a few extra things to boot. But Abdul couldn't help but ask the young lady about the supplies the leader had told him about for the repairs of the second main generator.<span style="font-style: italic">''Has Paul told you anything about the things he told me he'd bring?''</span>Paula turned back and spotted the guard assigned to her a few meters behind, doing his rounds absent-mindedly. The look she shot at Abdul was one of discontent, some rules must not be broken so carelessly. One must not speak to Paul's women.<br/><br/>Paul, the supreme leader, and something of a cult leader among his men, inside the Tacoma Safe Haven had risen to power by what could possibly be described as economic power. Of course, there was not much of a stable economy; economic power meant he hoarded the most valued supplies and, of course, the manpower to protect his cargo. The safe haven had started relatively well when Abdul had entered, it was ran by the military commander and the troops were disciplined, everyone was familiar and cordial with each other even if there were a few rotten apples among the orchard. But time was passing on and the supply trucks with food and water were starting to dwindle, people didn't immediatly start looting around Tacoma because they feared what was outside the walls; it was up to the boys with guns to get to the task of supplying the starving and helpeless ones to get food. The first incursion into Tacoma didn't go well, needless to say, the soldiers were used to people falling when you shot them down. Half of the soldiers died. The rest were shaken up and a few badly injured; a quarter of our medical supplies went to keeping a couple alive through surgery. The commander desired to remain calm and, perhaps in a bad move, led the second expedition into Tacoma for the search of supplies. It was relatively succesful, with the exception one man had been dragged away by a Hulk while he was on watch in a vantage point; the men only heard his screams when his legs had been shoved up his mouth and the Hulk tossed him away like a rag doll.<br/><br/>The chain of command had been lost even if there was a couple men below the commander and above the bulk of the living troops. And among one of these high-ranked men that were no struggling to keep control among each other and between the troops was Paul Hunter; nobody really knew where he came from, he'd just transfered from a base in Anchorage in order to ''secure order and safeguard civilians''. At least that's what he'd told the inhabitants of the Safe Haven. One and a half years went... not perfectly well, of course, it IS the fall of society and the modern world as we know. There is no civility and mercy left on the world and the world is just infested with the shells that resembled the bodies, the baggage we carry now. And that may convert into one of them.<br/><br/>Going back to six months ago: supplies were low as ever, morale just a bit lower than that and one of the high-ranked officers had been struck with a dreadful disease after a patrol outside. Bloodshot eyes, agressive behaviour, bite marks; it was obvious. Paul shot him down without mercy and so he converted in the new first-in-command, through a bullet. But the chain of command would mean nothing; everyone who had a weapon could mount a rebellion. Paul Walker is a snake and not a soldier, not a man who cares for his fellow troops but one who uses them as human shields when a firefight breaks out; and neither was he a humanitarian, when he was still one of the two high-ranked officers, he slowly won his underlings (because if Paul's not a soldier, neither are those bastards) by granting them ''permissions'' above the rest of the crowd. Maybe a bit more water or a bit more food. Or most of the water and most of the food. All for our honorable defenders, who no longer ventured out for their own supplies but sent the helpless civilians with no weapons (and some had escaped on their exploration) to scavenge what little was left in the surrounding area of the Safe Haven. The guards cut their duties down to: making sure no supplies (their supplies) were stolen and making sure nobody got in. That's where the Safe Haven stands now, curfew at ten and shot after curfew, no questions asked. The men with the weapons and ammunition held all the power in a prison that housed the innocent.<br/><br/>That's the rundown of the situation inside the Safe Haven.<br/><br/>Abdul shook his head and looked at the woman, it was a tired gaze. Paula did nothing but grunt a little, sigh and dismiss Abdul in a rather inappropriate manner that a young person should be adressing an older one, which she clearly ignored from her high position. Abdul didn't know her very well either, so he just stood up and left, ignoring the guard's focused gaze on him. Outside the wind was cold and the night darker than usual. Was it after ten? He didn't realize until the guard that had previously been guarding Paula shoved him and signaled him to move, as if he couldn't spare a few words, as if Abdul wasn't worthy of them. The silhouttes of the building were the only thing that could be seen of them after dark; the windows were pitch black and the doors on the empty street closed. The watchtowers outside the safe haven and the Military HQ (formerly known as City Hall) were the only things that were illuminated at night, by orders of Paul. The Safe Haven had been kept shockingly tidy, although that may have been just becauase of how much spare time people had when trapped 24/7 for two years with no internet, phones or TV. There were around twelve buildings with more than three stories and the rest were two story houses and shops. Tacoma was by no means a small town but neither was it too big.<br/><br/>Abdul gazed upon the gates and the walls that surrounded him and thought of the ancient castle cities of both Iraq and Iran, relics that would not be torn apart by time no matter how they were attacked; either from inside or outside. And he silently hoped they wouldn't withstand as much. The soldier escorted him to his workshop and house; since Tacoma had recieved a high influx of refugees when the safe haven was first started, there was not much space, even after a good number had perished to the circumstances. The place was a garage just a couple blocks away from the Military HQ; there was not much around it aside from a sewer on the alley behind it. The place was pitch black when he entered. The soldier left and Abdul guided himself by memory into the candle in the metal table. He lit the candle up which showed a filthy, crammed, grey room with machine parts strewn all around. Or as Abdul would call it, home. The cold had penetrated his bones and he felt not restless, but tired from the day. Yet he couldn't sleep because of that breeze that clothes wouldn't defend him against. By the candlelight, he grabbed one of his tools (which had been stolen by someone more than once, usually for bartering) and started to work on a water heater that he had been asked to repair a week ago. Warm water is good for raising spirits, he thought. Unaware of what could come from the alley behind his garage.