Magic Space: Struggling to Survive in the Apocalypse

Meanwhile, after Ronan Kendrick returned to the refugee camp, it took him less than half an hour to find where Ethan Dawson and Quincy were.

The two had already joined the Black Dragon Gang in the refugee camp. The gang’s name sounded impressive, but in reality, they just extorted protection fees from the residents under the guise of protecting them, making their already impoverished lives even worse.

When Ronan Kendrick arrived, members of the Black Dragon Gang were in the middle of indoctrinating Ethan Dawson and Quincy. He wasn’t in a hurry to approach them. Instead, he found a spot and began to observe the situation. The man in charge of their indoctrination had to have been involved in pyramid schemes before—his spiel was practically the same.

"There are a hundred and fifty thousand people in this refugee camp, and our Black Dragon Squad runs this place. Who in the entire camp doesn’t know Drake?" Drake was the true leader of the Black Dragon Gang, and Titus was one of his subordinates. The squad Titus led was called the Tiger Squad.

Other squads included the Python Squad, the Eagles, the Leopard Squad...

As the man spoke, Quincy’s face turned red from the effort of holding back his laughter.

He felt like he’d been transported back several decades to the era of old gangster movies. The squad names had a thick, cringey air of teenage melodrama.

But he didn’t dare to laugh, because he was flanked by men holding gleaming, sharpened machetes.

No matter what the man said, he and Ethan Dawson played along perfectly, putting on an act of being successfully indoctrinated.

"This little squad of ours is a branch of the Black Dragon Gang, also known as the Tiger Squad, and Titus is our captain. The two of you chose to join us, which shows you’ve got a good eye. You made the right choice. Only here can you survive, eat your fill, and have a future. It’s the tenth year of the apocalypse, and life isn’t easy for anyone. Look at those pitiful people outside, digging for roots and picking leaves every day, just to get pushed around. But we’re different. No one dares to mess with the brothers of the Black Dragon Gang. Around here, we are the law." As the man spoke, spit flew onto Quincy’s clothes. Quincy wept a silent, torrential river of tears. ’I want to get out of here.’

"We’re the protectors of this refugee camp. And as their protectors, they have an obligation to hand their food over to us. You two are new, so you’ll follow along and learn the ropes today."

After the man finished speaking, he started handing out assignments. Since the two of them had just joined the Tiger Squad, they wouldn’t be sent out on their own. The others’ task for the day was to collect protection fees from five households. If a family had no food, they were to take clothing; if they had no clothing, they were to take other supplies.

"If anyone doesn’t know what’s good for them and refuses to hand over their things, make sure you teach them a lesson."

At his words, the others shot their hands into the air as if they’d been pumped full of adrenaline and began to chant, "Long live the Tiger Squad! Long live the Tiger Squad..."

Quincy... he couldn’t take it anymore. His stomach was starting to hurt from holding back his laughter.

Ethan Dawson chanted the slogan with a deadpan expression. He had gotten into character surprisingly fast.

"Terrence Dawson! Zach Quincy!"

"Here!" the two shouted in unison, raising their hands. The man nodded, satisfied. "John Miller, get over here. You’ll take these two with you today. Make sure you teach them how to collect protection fees."

John Miller’s disdainful gaze fell upon Ethan Dawson and Quincy. "Mr. Bernard, these two look a little slow on the uptake."

Quincy took a step forward. "Mr. Miller, you’re the one in charge of us, right? My buddy Terrence and I will be relying on you from now on. Don’t you worry, we won’t let you down. I’m a real quick study—I pick things up just like that. Terrence here is strong, so he can handle all the heavy lifting and dirty work."

It had to be said, with Quincy’s talent for adapting to any situation, he could get by anywhere. John Miller, who had been sneering just a moment ago, was now beaming after just a few words of flattery.

"Alright, you’ve got a silver tongue. You two just stick with me. See these machetes and clubs? You do whatever I tell you to do, and you’ll get your share of the good stuff we bring back."

Quincy’s eyes lit up. "We’ll follow your lead, Mr. Miller."

John Miller nodded. "Good. Follow me."

As the two prepared to follow John Miller out to collect protection fees, the Tiger Squad confiscated their backpacks and stored them in the main tent. If their clothes hadn’t already been in tatters, they probably would have been taken as well.

John Miller wasn’t tall, maybe five-foot-six, and was rail-thin with a bit of a hunch. He sported a drooping mustache, looking for all the world like a stock-villain collaborator from an old war film.

Despite his frail appearance, he had a nasty temper. The moment they reached the first family’s doorway, he kicked a small child who was playing there.

"WAAAAH!" The terrified child burst into tears. The parents rushed out of the dilapidated shack. Upon seeing John Miller with his machete, they instantly began to tremble in fear.

"It’s been a month. Time to pay the protection fee. Get out that cornmeal and wheat bran you were issued yesterday. For a family of three, I’ll only take one pound of cornmeal and half a pound of bran."

The official ration for a family of three was nine pounds of cornmeal plus three pounds of wheat bran. For John Miller to take a pound and a half at once was a devastating blow to this family.

"Could you... could you take a little less? We don’t have that much food. Our child is still growing, and we really don’t have enough."

"I’m a very reasonable man, and I don’t like getting physical. But if you don’t know what’s good for you, this machete in my hand is going to see some blood today." After speaking, John Miller glanced at Ethan Dawson and Quincy, gesturing for them to take notes. Quincy, quick on the uptake, immediately adopted a properly chastened and studious expression.

’He doesn’t like getting physical, huh? Only with his feet.’ The memory of how viciously John Miller had kicked the child sent a chill down Quincy’s spine.

"Can we give you wood instead?"

"Bargaining with me?" John Miller’s small eyes narrowed as he started to raise his machete. Quincy moved to step forward but was held back by Ethan Dawson.

"No, we wouldn’t dare! Please, don’t hurt us! We’ll get it. We’ll get it right now."

Having collected the pound and a half of food, John Miller was incredibly smug. He practically floated on his way to the next house.

"You two better learn from this. If you don’t want to starve to death, you have to be like me. These wretches... We, the Tiger Squad, are their protectors! Taking their food is an honor for them, and still they try to give me the runaround."

"Yes, sir! Mr. Miller, you’re amazing! Truly mighty!" Quincy laid the flattery on thick, and John Miller’s ego swelled even larger.

"Come on, I’ll take you to the next house. Let me tell you, this place has a woman in her forties and a nineteen-year-old girl. The man of the house is useless. Later, how about you two..." He trailed off with a disgusting, lecherous grin. Both Ethan Dawson and Quincy wanted nothing more than to tear him limb from limb.

’Endure!’

Quincy clenched his jaw so hard he thought it might shatter. He quickly waved his hands at John Miller. "Mr. Miller, I’m... not really able to perform in that department."

John Miller stared at his crotch for two seconds, then a sympathetic smile spread across his face. "Zach Quincy, you poor bastard."

Quincy gave a dry laugh and nodded in agreement.

"What about you?"

Ethan Dawson, his face a mask of humiliation, replied, "Me neither. Got... damaged when I was captured by bandits."

John Miller clapped Ethan Dawson on the shoulder. "Huh. Never thought I’d see two big, strapping guys like you who are both eunuchs."

’You’re the fucking eunuch,’ Quincy cursed in his head.

"Don’t worry, I won’t laugh at you. In a bit, you can watch me show you what a real man can do. This," he said, puffing his chest, "is what a man should be like."

Quincy... ’Gag.’

Ethan Dawson’s expression remained unchanged.

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