Mal stepped out of the shop into a back alley. Everywhere there were signs of the decay that had consumed the once bustling city. Piles of uncleared garbage, paving stones shattered into uneven shards and a singular absence of the sound of air conditioning units, the one-time summertime chorus of urban America.
Overhead, on the roof of the building, there would be a soldier armed with an assault rifle strode back and forwards uneasily, watching the people beneath her. Mal walked to see no one up there, there has to be guards around, sectorinf the place every hour. However, she notice there's less of them around. It's another irritation of what's to come from... Charlie.
The Tradepost lasted for sixteen years and counting. Since FEDRA claimed it, it was a hospice for the military in the begin of the Black Night. Soon as Flyer Frontiers came, they decided to make the place a heaven of goods. The sign on the wall said:
'Safe Heaven for the Lost, No Fear to Regain'
Some things were never going to be available of course. Working personal electronics? More than the most basic medical supplies? Forget about those; they were 'prioritized goods' - in other words only operational military units. As that the production capability has huge amount of stuff left. Much of it was in surprisingly good condition. You want it, get working in a job to get ration dollars
Soon, a group came over to take in charge as the Flyer Frontiers had to regroup the Quarantines. And that was Charlie, which he kept the system but in a fair price of trading a ratio for other goods than rather to pay what you have and what you can't.
Mal set off to a gate and takes her to the main street way. It was so crowded with people running through the streets, going to each station of selection. Wooden walls, tarps holding up, the metal tables showing all the items such as gas can, tools, little tinges, and many more. The warehouses and apartments behind the stations were their homes are. People did sell and trade, most of the stuff with livestock, fuel, supplies come from the black market. Generally, the system worked very well but the chance of double-cross was becoming a looming threat. There's people who work but never pay attention. There's no clear authority over the people living and working here, have no interest. She hates to admit it but Charlie has become flaccid, losing his ownership over the Tradepost. It's as he doesn't care any more.
Without the Tradepost - sure some survivors can live without it - the Eleven Towns would be seriously be in trouble. The Eleven Towns has good stock and been trading their goods although its not a huge ratio of goods. The Tradepost should continue on, especially the ones who can't scavenge themselves.
Taking up the East Quarter into the intersection of a run-off street, Mal's eyes snapped back to the raid on the run-down tenement building when she heard yelling's. An African-American woman was laying face-down on the floor and struggling with a man holding her down with a boot on the back of her neck, kicking her in the stomach. Mal could say this is new (seen a bunch like this when being with the Flyer Frontiers but more cruel) and that they're fighting over what's in her bag, supplies. It worried Mal that the supplies are low range although, it never happened. People who can't control their fury and be animalistic was of losing foods, supplies. Humans need needs, items to survive. Mal better check in the Stock-quart to see if there's any problems.
After passing through an alleyway with a open warehouse and a chain-link fence, inside is some packing crates; full crates of food this time. Just in time too, as two armed men walked out of the building that had once housed Spencer's Computer Supplies, now the Stock-quart. "What's going on?" Mal was the first asked.
The man covered in armour snorted. "Two of our guys found this pig just laying there, trying to move him this morning. I guarantee that it's sick."
Heading into the building, tractors and combines on the left parking and outside the building is the large row of dirt for all the crops, vegetables growing on the rich soil, all healthy and tall. Vix help with the gardening and knew how to work with the machines so sometimes she worked in here.
Inside is the penthouse with the hens in their henhouse. The side is a square fence with the pigs, dirty with mud and one was laying on its side, chest moving up and down slowly. Getting close to Lightning Dash, Killeen called him, poking and rubbing its belly. He felt hot.
"He's sick. Better if I end its misery, maybe take him to Newt, see if he can butcher him."
"You mean butcher him after you killed him?" She simply scowled at him. The guardsmen's heard the long forgotten community with a game of a maze type, a cage called the Vega Cage, and Mal as a prisoner. And demolishing every single person and her allies. To be fair, yes she did kill every one. They had it coming and half the allies were acquaintances and worshiped cannibalism. No matter what, people never in her years seen her as a small, innocence child, only a brute survivor, not only human.
She knows what they say but rather not admit, and one she tries not to be- no never to be again. A monster.
He raise both hands up. "Sorry. We better report this to Charlie. If one is sick, it could be a virus and, if spread, others would be infected. We need to check all the hogs in quarantine. I'll get Dorales to cure them."
She takes her knife, slowly going into the pen, taking step by step to not let him be cautious and run away from her. Fortunately, Lighting Dash didn't run. She felt pity for him. Soon she stabs in his throat, no struggle and he just slept. "You can go to Charlie." She clear throat when she says his name.
"It happened before," Mal and the man carried the pig together. "When?" She asked immediately.
"When you guys left, it went to a downfall. Two cattle were sicker as hell, had to put them down before any infection spread. Someone who was suppose to be marked in feeding them fed them poison berries, garbage and he left the place about three weeks ago," he then carries him into the back of the wagon, "people are leaving this place, it's not a sanction anymore. Charlie is starting lose all of it. Don't know what made him go be an asshole about this."
They head in the West Quarter of the Tradpost where the black market is and it had several layers. People and the RK's, as smugglers, had the particular speciality of sneaking items salvaged from outside the fortified walls of the wall to the inside (and sometimes vice-versa). Their distribution network of their own is fairly good, selling and trademarking. They had to rely on black marketers, people like old kind lady Moss, to sell on their goods to the good citizens of the Tradepost.
The outside is stained black, as if it has endured being on fire. It smells strongly of dirt dust and there are signs hanging that read "Danger" "No Trespassing" and "Keep Out", along with one that has images of a skull and crossbones.
"Are you coming some time to talk to Charlie?" The man glances back before walking inside with the pig.
She follows him inside and is instantly surprised by the quiet activity going on inside. The place is large, all stocked with supplies to trade and sell. All of them were good conditions; weapons of different guns and knives hanging on the walls, tools in boxes, and anything you want go got it. She scans the vendors who have items displayed on top of splintered, wooden boards. She recognizes a few faces but doesn't actually know anyone by name except Newt the butcher of everything and crouched back and dirt face Moss, blue scarf wrapped around her grey long ponytail, in her corner station with all her trinkets.
She goes gets a stocky large man, a apron with slaughter animal blood on it and the guard drops the pig on the metal table.
"Phew! Another dead one again?" Newt exclaimed. Newt was an alright guy for Mal but wouldn't exactly be friends or trust him.
"Was sick. Wonder if he be good enough to eat, Newt?"
"Might have to check on that but he'll be enough for the storage. Need anything else since you brought food?" She shakes her head then he takes his bloody gloves off and shakes her hand, "Okay. Better tell Killeen about him."
Oh yeah. Killeen might have a fussy fit.
"I will."
"Mal, can I ask an request for you?"
"Sure."
"I know Charlie is close to you so can you demand him to bring back what we had. We're losing this place. Please and thank you."
"I-uh... Sure."
Mal felt like she was inches away from a complete meltdown, anger vibrate through her body. How dare he say that about her being close to Charlie? The sharp sting of yet another betrayal chipped at her, she'd never expected for him to be the one to tell her about this. If anything she'd expected her friends to be the one to question anything. But that remark just brings the fury out of her.
Just as she was about to get outside, the guard told her what she thinks on meeting Charlie. "Not now. Just go away."
"What?" He turned to face her anger.
"Get- just go. Now." She ground out again. "I'm going to tell Killeen about this and... I'll try to talk to him."
"Mal, Newt shouldn't have talk like that in front of you. Charlie is the typically man where every woman in the Tradepost feels unease. So, take time."
She then walks away, wanting to forget everything.