Arena Three

Suddenly I feel it, that the tides of opinion are changing. Never before have the people of Fort Noix received a direct call. Before, it was easy for them to sit back idly because there was no real proof that there were other survivors’ camps out there. But now the proof has arrived, and people are becoming unsettled.

Ryan gives me a mournful smile. He knows full well what I’m thinking: that I want to leave in search of the Texan survivors. He knows that he is finally about to lose me. I feel terrible for him, but when I look over at Molly’s and Zeke’s triumphant expressions, my resolve returns. The turn of the tide is exciting for all of us. My dream of rebuilding civilization might be about to happen. Now, I just need the people of Fort Noix to demand that the Commander use his resources to start helping those in need.

But there’s still a strong isolationist faction arguing against those who are challenging the status quo.

“We can’t risk being found!” they cry. “It would be a suicide mission!”

Everyone’s shouting. The voices that are demanding that the Commander help become louder, bolder, stronger. More forceful. They start drowning out the shouts from the isolationists and any of the supporting voices of the Commander.

“We made an agreement years ago,” the Commander cries. “Fort Noix does not seek survivors. Our own survival depends on us remaining secret and hidden.” But as he looks out over the crowd, his expression changes, like he can see that it is not enough anymore, that many, many people no longer agree. “I ask of you all, please, that we sit down and talk about this. Democratically.”

People begin to fall silent, taken aback by the mention of democracy, something that a fort run on military command doesn’t usually get to experience. I catch sight of General Reece’s distasteful expression, as though she certainly would have preferred this not have been resolved diplomatically at all.

“There is no need to shout and argue,” the Commander adds. “I’m not going to force people to do things they don’t want to. But we need a frank and honest discussion about what it entails, how these decisions may impact the rest of the group. The security of Fort Noix has always been, and will always remain, my paramount concern.”

We all settle down, sitting on the ground and benches. It reminds me of kids at kindergarten sitting on a storytime rug, only we’re soldiers, and we’re discussing something far graver than a five-year-old could ever imagine.

“Say the message is recent,” the Commander begins, “we can take it as fact that there are indeed survivors out there. Who feels that we should be searching for survivors?”

There’s a show of hands, and I look around to see that far more people than just our group have raised their hands in support. I feel a swirl of happiness in my stomach to know that so many people share my belief about looking for survivors.

“And what do you people propose we do with them?” the Commander asks calmly.

Nicolas, a man in our group, begins to speak. “We want to go on short missions to rescue them and bring them back to the fort.”

General Reece shakes her head. “That would be out of the question. It would alert slaverunners to our presence.”

“Then what about creating a safe place for them nearby?” Molly asks. “We can train them to guard and patrol like we do.”

People murmur in agreement, as though this is indeed a good idea. It would make Fort Noix a town of separatists rather than isolationists.

“How many people would be willing to set up this new fort?” the Commander asks.

Many of the people I’ve been speaking with over the last six months volunteer themselves, including Trixie and her family, and a large number of the Forest Dwellers. The Commander nods, though he looks a little stung to see so many wishing to leave.

“Then, please,” he says, “know you have my blessing to do what you think is right. But let me make it clear right now. If you leave, you cannot come back. It’s too risky.”

General Reece nods. “I agree. If you’re going to be going out on multiple rescue missions, you’re bound to be noticed by someone sooner or later. You cannot lead those people here.”

“I understand,” Nicolas replies. “We’re all aware of the dangers.”

Molly nudges me and gives me a thumbs-up. What we’ve wanted for months is finally coming to fruition. People will be saved, given a chance at life like me, Bree, Ben, and Charlie were. But something is still niggling in the back of my mind. The message. The American military base.

“What about the radio message?” I say. “Can we send a team to Texas to make contact with the survivors there?”

Silence falls across the crowd.

The Commander looks at me. “We don’t know for certain if the survivors there are still alive,” he says. “And Texas is a very long way to travel on the off chance that they are.”

“It’s a chance that many of us are willing to take,” I say, confidently.