Chapter 11

Thursday, December 16, 2027, The White Tower

Dale sat at the head of a long, covered in maps and stacks of reports. Old furniture and scavenged office chairs filled the room, mismatched but functional.

Along the walls, rifles were stacked neatly, within easy reach, alongside boxes of ammunition and spare magazines. The old stone alcoves, once used for displaying artifacts, now held radios, logbooks, and supply lists meticulously recorded by Polina.

Things had escalated fast. Over the past week, they had swept through Westminster and Mayfair, securing key buildings and absorbing hundreds of survivors. Their numbers had surged past fourteen hundred, among them one hundred and sixty children, swelling both their fighting force and their civilian population. The White Tower itself was no longer where most of the survivors lived. It had become the centre of operations, a symbol. Dale still occupied the top floor with his top lieutenants and the armoury. They also had out kitted it out with radios for a proper command and control. The floor below was taken over by members of the Founders of the Dawn.

The rest of their people slept in the barracks and old cottages, spread across the grounds. During the day, children were sent to St Paul’s Cathedral for school and daycare, and food was served in a large, repurposed cafeteria outside the grounds.

Dale exhaled, leaning forward. “Alright, let’s get updates. Allegra, start us off.”

Allegra leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other as she surveyed the room. There was an ease in the way she held herself, a quiet confidence that came from knowing she was one of the few people in this group that Dale fully trusted. She was in charge of the people, who was in, who was out and making sure they were all in line. The initiations had been key to that—solidifying loyalty, keeping people committed, ensuring that everyone understood where they stood.

“We’ve got another initiation tonight,” she said, glancing at Dale before turning her attention to the others. “I’ve gone through the list with Tom, Joe, and the other officers, but I want to confirm that everyone is on board before we move forward.” She reached into a folder and pulled out a neatly written page, placing it on the table. “We have twenty-six candidates this time. Most have been on the front lines and have proven themselves.” Everyone knew what that meant, they had been willing to kill for the group.

She tapped her finger on the page, eyes flicking to the group. “Before we finalize it, I want to go over the names. If anyone has concerns, now’s the time to bring them up. And if anyone thinks there’s someone we should be adding, speak now.”

She scanned the room, waiting. Tom was the first to lean forward, picking up the list and glancing through it. “No objections from me. We’ve been watching most of these names for a while now.”

Joe nodded in agreement. “There’s one I’d like to add—Riley. He’s been running patrols with us for two weeks, solid guy, and does what needs to be done. Smart, disciplined. I think he’s ready.”

Allegra nodded, making a quick note. “Anyone else?”

Silence.

She glanced at Dale, then back at the others. “Alright. Then that’s the final list.”

She tapped her pen against the table, shifting slightly. “Beyond that, things are running smoothly. We’ve absorbed a lot of newcomers in the last week, but they’re settling in well.”

She met Dale’s gaze briefly, before flicking her attention back to the group. “That’s all from me. The initiation will take place after dinner. Everything’s in place.”

She leaned back again, satisfied. “We’re building something strong here, and people see that. We just have to keep reinforcing it.”

Sigrid and Rebecca took over next, Sigrid speaking first, her Scandinavian accent heavy. “Food’s stable. We have more than enough dried goods—rice, beans, flour, preserved meats. No rationing needed yet. But people are starting to feel the lack of fresh food.”

Rebecca nodded. “Clothing is fine for now. We’ve secured department stores, stockpiled winter gear. What we need is better organization—some of the newcomers arrived with nothing but the clothes on their backs. We’re sorting them out as best we can, but we may need a more structured approach if we keep growing at this pace.”

Dale made a mental note of it. The food situation was fine for now, but they needed a long-term plan. Fresh food mattered—not just for health, but for morale.

Clare tapped her fingers against the table before speaking. “The hospital is fully operational. I have twelve staff now, most of them with experience, enough to keep things running. Every new arrival is screened on entry, and so far, we’ve been managing well. The STI cases were lower than I feared—fifteen, all quarantined and medicated. Two untreatable cases, and they were expelled before they could cause a problem.”

Dale nodded, “Good work!”

She flipped a page in her notebook. “Three confirmed pregnancies so far, likely more to come. We’re monitoring them, but it’s going to be something we need to think about long-term. And we need a dentist.”

Dale nodded, though his mind lingered on the pregnancies longer than it should have. Three already. It was good, they had to rebuild. He wondered if any of his partners might get pregnant soon. They had been quite busy at it most nights, but he wasn’t sure he would be prepared.

Bob leaned forward, looking tired but satisfied. “Solar’s keeping up with demand for now. Battery storage is holding. We’re good for power, but the problem is water.” He exhaled. “The well at the Tower is tapped out. We can’t keep pulling at this rate. We’re getting water purification equipment from the boats at St. Katharine’s Docks, which is helping, but it’s a stopgap solution. If we keep growing, it’s not enough. We need a proper supply, and that means expanding further.”

Dale already knew where this was going. “Hampstead Heath?”

Bob nodded. “It’s got natural ponds. We purify that, and we’re set. But it means pushing north fast.”

Dale looked to Tom and Joe, who had been waiting their turn.

Tom ran a hand through his short-cropped hair. “Security’s tight. Everything from Westminster to Mayfair is locked down and buildings swept. Whitehall’s secure. No real resistance, just stragglers.”

Joe leaned forward, flipping through a notepad. “Since last Thursday? We’ve removed about four thousand bodies. Most of them just abandoned. The real work has been dealing with the ones still alive.”

One of the newly promoted officers, Ed, picked up from there. “Camden is going to be a problem. We ran into about fifty organized survivors there, better armed than the usual desperate lot. We pushed through most of them, but there’s another group further north. We don’t know how many yet, but they’re not going to just fold.”

Dale exhaled, weighing it. “We take Camden completely. No half-measures. Then we move for Hampstead. Block by block, we lock it down.”

Polina, who had been listening carefully, finally spoke. “Our numbers are good. We’ve absorbed over seven hundred in the last week. We’ve got five full companies now, each a hundred and twenty strong. On top of that the Chinese sent a further full company for a total of 720 people on full time sweeping duties. The rest are either setting up infrastructure, guarding the borders, or handling logistics. We’re stretched, but functional.”

The meeting wrapped up. They had momentum. Now they just had to keep moving before anyone else organized against them.

As the others filtered out, Allegra lingered by his side, her voice low. “I’ll bring them to you after dinner.”

Dale smirked slightly. “I trust your judgment.”

She returned the smile, dark and knowing. “I know.”

She slipped away, and Dale exhaled slowly, watching her go. The Tower was growing. The city was shifting. And soon, it would all belong to them.

The induction ceremony had gone well. Another twenty-six swore their loyalty, and moved up the ranks. The celebrations afterward were lively, almost difficult to control with so many people packed into the Tower’s halls and courtyards. It had reached the point where Dale no longer recognized every face, a thought that unsettled him. He still moved through the crowd, making himself seen, shaking hands, exchanging nods. People needed to feel he was accessible. It was about maintaining an image—strong but approachable, a leader worth following.

The Citadel at Whitehall was running on a skeleton crew for the night. The Tower itself still housed most of them, but people were spread thin. Only ten were on guard duty. Their numbers meant they had the luxury of rotation, so those men would be part of the festivities next time.

As Dale made his way through the revellers, he noticed the shift in attention. People were tipsy, laughing, and the women—many of them—were watching him. He wasn’t blind to it. Allegra, Nicole, and Natalie were his closest regulars, the ones who always seemed to find their way to his bed, but others drifted in and out. Kat, Olesia, and Becky sometimes joined them. With Jaz and Leila, things had been softer, affectionate but never more than a cuddle. But tonight, they had plans to introduce someone new.

Sandra had joined them just over a week ago. Petite, brunette, early twenties. A very pretty face, soft features, plump in a way that made her look delicate rather than heavy. She wasn’t as striking as some of the others, but she had an innocent charm that made her stand out. Allegra and the others had chosen well.

As the celebration wound down, Sandra and Natalie followed him to the White Tower. It wasn’t long before they were naked, limbs tangled together in the dim light. Sandra was eager, her body warm and pliant beneath him. She wasn’t just going through the motions—she was into it, reacting to him with a kind of raw enthusiasm that made the experience all the better. The chemistry was good. He could see why they had picked her for him.

Wanting to prolong the moment, he shifted, repositioning her so he could take her from behind. Her body was raised slightly by a pillow, giving him the perfect angle. As he eased into her warm tightness he could feel her walls close around his member. He started with slow long strokes as he tried to find a rhythm. He didn’t understand why some men fixated on anal. The whole point of sex was to get your seed inside a woman, and part of the allure was knowing she could get pregnant. Even with precautions, the thought was always there. That possibility.

Sandra moaned softly, her fingers gripping the sheets as he thrust into her with slow, deep strokes.

Then came the bang.

A single shot. Then another. Then a third.

Dale’s body went rigid, every muscle snapping to attention. Gunfire. Inside the walls.

He yanked out of Sandra so fast it nearly hurt, scrambling upright, instincts overriding everything else. This was bad.

“Get the guns!” His voice was sharp, urgent. “We need to go down.”

Natalie was already moving, reaching for the weapons they had stashed in the room. Dale grabbed his radio and flipped the switch.

“All tower units, come in!” His voice cut through the noise.

A flurry of responses came back, rapid, professional.

“Brass all good!”
“Legge’s all clear!”
“Byward all clear!”
“Develin all clear!”

Nothing from Traitor’s Gate.

His stomach tightened. “Stay in place and watch for anyone inside. It looks like we have two teams down!”

Natalie grabbed a shotgun, fumbling slightly but recovering fast. Dale went for the automatic weapons, slinging one over his shoulder while loading another. He yanked open a duffel bag and shoved extra magazines inside. They had no time.

Jake, half-dressed, cursed as he yanked on his jeans, his lean frame moving with urgency. He was still buttoning them when he slung his rifle over his shoulder. He wasn’t hesitating though—none of them were.

They each grabbed four rifles. Natalie took three. Dale threw Sandra two bags filled with ammunition. She caught them awkwardly, her face pale, frozen in place.

“Carry these,” he snapped. He didn’t know if he could trust her, but there was no time to debate it.

Less than a minute later, they were flying down the stairs.

Another burst of gunfire erupted from outside. Dale’s stomach twisted. This was bad.

The Tower was a fortress, but it was hard to see what was happening. There were too many walls, too many places for an enemy to move unseen. If they were already inside, then someone had betrayed them.

Dale rounded the last steps just as Charlie and Joe came running toward them, both armed, their faces set in grim focus.

“They’re at the south end,” Charlie gasped, breathing hard. “Somehow they got over the wall. They took out Mike and have his gun.”

Dale’s mind raced. How the fuck had they gotten over?

“Come with us!” he barked.

They burst through the main doors and chaos hit them like a wall.

Shouts. Screams. The thud of running feet. Somewhere distant, another gunshot cracked through the night air.