Carver added, "We've been watching you for a week. Your searches are limited to the area around the park. The supplies you find, how many days can they feed everyone? Three? Five?"
Cole fell silent.
It was true.
The Scavengers had more than fifty people. The supplies they found were barely enough to keep them alive, and every time they went out to search, someone got hurt or even died.
Gwendolyn saw the hesitation on his face and seized the chance to lay out Rock Fortress's core terms.
"If you join Rock Fortress, you'll receive regular food rations. The adults among you can join the labor teams or undergo training to join the Defense Force.
"Those with skills, people who can identify metals, repair tools, or make traps, will be put to good use. The elderly and children will be protected.
"Most importantly, you won't have to sleep in ruins anymore, wondering every day whether you'll live to see the next sunrise."
"What's the price?" Cole asked bluntly. "This can't be free. What do we have to pay?"
"Follow Rock Fortress's rules," Gwendolyn said. "Obey command, contribute to the base, and don't harm your own people. Also…"
She paused. "One day from now, our people will enter Block B and begin clearing out the walkers.
"We hope you won't cause trouble. Ideally, you'll help us. If any other faction starts making moves, keep watch for us."
The Scavengers stirred.
Several of them looked angry.
The park was their "hunting ground" and their den, the place they depended on to survive.
"Why should we?" one young Scavenger shouted before he could stop himself. "That's our territory!"
"Because if we wanted to take it by force, we could do it right now."
At some point, Carver had moved into a position where he could block their retreat. He toyed with a throwing knife in his hand, that familiar dangerous smile hanging on his face.
"But we chose to talk. That's called courtesy. Got it?"
The air tensed at once.
Cole raised a hand to stop his people, then looked hard at Gwendolyn. "And if we say no?"
Gwendolyn met his gaze without flinching. "Then the day after tomorrow, we will still move into Block B.
"But after that, Rock Fortress's gates will no longer be open to you. Once you lose the park, how much will you still be able to find? How long can you last?"
It was the bare truth.
Cole's cheek twitched.
A long silence followed.
At last, Cole sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "We need time to discuss it. And even if we agree, the Throat-Slasher Gang is still in the park. They won't just sit back and watch."
"We'll handle the Throat-Slasher Gang," Hank said. "You just need to make your decision. Give us an answer before dawn the day after tomorrow.
"If you agree, your people can stay in this warehouse district, and we'll send someone to coordinate with you. If you don't agree… then keep your distance and don't interfere with our operation."
Cole nodded. He had compromised.
The negotiation team began to withdraw. Gwendolyn gave Cole several bags of compressed biscuits, then said to him before leaving, "Think about your people. Think about the children. In the apocalypse, people survive more easily together than alone."
When they had pulled back to a safe distance, Jason looked over his shoulder.
Tony was still standing beside Cole, speaking excitedly.
Cole raised a hand and patted his shoulder, his expression complicated as he watched the negotiation team leave.
"Will they agree?" Hank asked Gwendolyn on the way back to the fire station.
Gwendolyn glanced back at the warehouse district. "Cole understands the situation.
"He knows scavenging won't feed more than fifty people forever. He needed a way to step down, and we gave him one. We should have an answer before sunrise tomorrow."
Carver added, "And now they know we wiped out the Red Scarf Gang. If they still don't get it, I know a little hand-to-hand persuasion."
Gwendolyn nodded, and the weight in her chest eased a little.
This was her first important mission in Rock Fortress, and she knew she had done reasonably well.
But the real test would come tomorrow, when the promises made at the negotiating table turned into real action on the battlefield.
And the Throat-Slasher Gang was the next target.
A gang made up of thugs probably would not be as easy to talk to as the Scavengers.
...
Unlike the cautious, restrained contact with the Scavengers, the negotiation team's strategy for dealing with the Throat-Slasher Gang was completely different from the start.
The negotiation team did not rest. They turned directly toward the east side of the industrial park, to an area made up of stacked shipping containers and scrapped vehicles.
This was the Throat-Slasher Gang's stronghold. Earlier reconnaissance showed that at least ten to fifteen people stayed here regularly.
"I'll take the lead this time," Gwendolyn said, wanting to change tactics. "But I need you to give me more… deterrence."
Jonathan nodded. "Merle, Carver, you two stand in front this time."
Carver did not look up, his fingers deftly playing with a throwing knife.
Merle grinned and raised his brows at Daryl.
Daryl frowned. "Too much show, and they'll start shooting."
"That's the point." Gwendolyn was unusually firm.
At two in the afternoon, sunlight slanted across the ground as the negotiation team walked straight through the "gate" of the Throat-Slasher Gang's stronghold, a narrow passage formed by two stacked school buses.
They did not hide. Almost the moment they entered view, whistles and hurried footsteps came from the shadows.
Six men emerged from behind shipping containers and beneath vehicle chassis, each holding a different weapon.
Machetes, steel pipes, a sawed-off shotgun, and even a homemade bow.
Their clothes were a mess, their bodies marked with crude tattoos and scars, and their eyes carried the viciousness unique to street thugs.
"Stop!" the bald man with the shotgun shouted. "Who let you in here?"
Merle was the first to stop. His left hand held a revolver, the muzzle hanging naturally downward. "Get your boss out here. Don't let these lackeys waste my damn time."
The bald man was shaken by Merle's presence. His gaze dropped to the cyber-wasteland-style axe blade on Merle's right arm, and he froze again, but quickly forced himself to stand firm. "Who the fuck are you."
He did not finish.
Carver moved.
No one saw Carver's motion clearly. They only heard a whoosh as a throwing knife skimmed past the bald man's ear and buried itself in the shipping container behind him, the handle still vibrating.
"Buddy," Carver said lazily, even smiling a little, "now, go get your boss. I don't like waiting."
The six Throat-Slasher Gang members froze where they stood, staring in terror at the still-quivering knife, then at the group in front of them, one that was clearly not to be messed with.
A dozen people, fully armed, positioned like professionals. There was no bluff in their eyes, only calm and danger.
The bald man swallowed and gave the skinny kid beside him a look.
The skinny kid turned and ran.
The wait was not long. The Throat-Slasher Gang's side was tense, while Rock Fortress looked completely relaxed.
Gwendolyn stood half a step behind Merle and Carver, her hands folded in front of her. Her expression was calm, and she even took a moment to tidy her hair, as though she were attending a business negotiation.