Chapter 4

Tuesday, November 16, 2027, The White Tower

There was no mobile service left—not that it mattered much, as charging a phone would require generators they could barely spare fuel for.

The hearty, slightly metallic smell of tinned baked beans filled the hall, mingling with the faint scent of unwashed bodies as everyone gathered for breakfast. More than sixty faces stared up at Dale now—expectant, exhausted, grateful. It was becoming clear to him: they’d grown large enough that structure was no longer optional. It was essential.

As the clatter of spoons began to fade, Dale stood up, projecting his voice with authority.

“All of you are here because we brought you in. This is your home now. We’re a good team, but we’re getting too big to wing it. We need proper structure and I want to make sure you’re all on board.”

The room quieted instantly.

“Most of you already see me as your leader. I plan to keep it that way, because I believe I can keep you safe.”

A wave of claps and stomps rippled through the hall, genuine or not, Dale couldn’t tell. It hardly mattered. It was him or chaos, and everyone knew it.

“We’re setting up clear roles and responsibilities, and these might change over time as we adapt.”

First came Allegra. She had already positioned herself as second-in-command, whether officially or not, and Dale knew better than to sideline her.

“Allegra will be the Gatekeeper”

She raised an eyebrow, but there was no confusion in her eyes—only satisfaction.

“She oversees all people within these walls. That means resolving disputes, setting expectations, and making sure everyone understands what it means to be one of us. She decides who stays and who goes. No one joins us without her approval.”

There were no objections. People already followed her lead. This just made it official.

He pointed to Tom. “Tom will be our Chief Warden, in charge of overall Tower security. We’ve had luck on our side, but luck won’t last. We’ve all seen the violence out there. We need lookouts, proper gate security, a weapons store. Tom’s responsible for making it happen.” Dale liked the sound of Chief Warden—borrowed from the Beefeaters who’d guarded the Tower for centuries. A comforting echo from a past that felt a million years away now.

“Sven and Joe become lieutenants, each running a scouting squad. You’ll clear buildings, secure supplies, and identify potential threats. Bob, you’re our Chief Engineer, providing instructions to scouts about what equipment we need most urgently.”

When Dale’s gaze shifted to the women, he felt his stomach tighten. Assigning roles based on merit, not attraction, was crucial. The first decision was easy enough.

“Clare, you’re Chief Medic—not just treating sickness, but also managing medical supplies and teaching basic first aid so we can survive when things go wrong.”

A ripple of bitter laughter moved through the hall at the thought of something “worse” than the nightmare they’d already survived.

“For food and clothing—Sigrid and Rebecca will take charge of planning meals, organising prep, and hygiene.”

“Polina, you’re Master of Ledgers. Track everything—supplies, inventories, newcomers, backgrounds, skills, relationships. If we keep growing, your role will be critical.”

He exhaled, glancing around the room. “As we expand, we’ll need more roles. Some of you will need to step up eventually. My lieutenants will pick their teams this morning. Any disputes—I’ll judge them personally. You can change roles later, but right now, specialization helps us all survive.”

“All in favour say yay.”

The room erupted with approval, the shouts genuine enough to ease his nerves slightly.

“Any opposed?”

Silence. He hoped the agreement was real, though he knew fear of exclusion or worse probably played a part.

Dale stepped down from the bench as the last echoes of clapping faded. He felt the weight settle on his shoulders—not just the stares, but the unspoken contracts he’d just written in real time.

Clare caught his eye and gave a small, tired nod, one medic to another. Sven looked pleased—he liked clear orders. Tom had already started sketching something in a battered notebook, likely a plan for patrols or rotations.

Allegra, though, stood at the back of the hall, arms folded, her face unreadable. She didn’t smile. She just gave a single, tight nod.

It should’ve felt like a win. Instead, Dale’s chest tightened.

He stepped aside into the corridor, letting the murmurs of the crowd fade behind him. For a few seconds, he leaned against the cold stone wall of the Tower, breathing hard.

He had told them they were a team. A community. But he’d also just handed out titles like favours and drawn hard lines about who belonged. That wasn’t a speech—it was a declaration.

And now he had to live with it.

From the far side of the hall, he heard Nicole telling a group where to find blankets. Someone laughed, too loudly. Life kept moving.

Allegra appeared beside him without warning, her voice low. “You did well. You sounded like a leader.”

He didn’t meet her eye. “Sounding like one’s the easy part.”

“The rest gets easier,” she said. “Or it doesn’t. Either way, we hold the line.”

Dale nodded slowly. “Yeah. But I just hope the line we’re drawing isn’t the one that breaks us later.”

Allegra didn’t respond. She just looked out at the group—their group—filing into action as if the vote had changed something deeper than routine.

Maybe it had.

Tom’s job was the most critical yet had the fewest people at first. Jake would be his sole recruit for now. They didn’t have numbers yet for night guards, but daylight gate duty was essential. Establishing a central weapons store in the White Tower was priority one. Tom began planning immediately.

Dale approached Sven and Joe. “Clear all docks between East Smithfield, Thomas More Street, and the river. No survivors, dead or alive, by sunset. Each of you takes eight people. Can you manage that?”

They nodded, scanning the large map pinned to the courtyard wall. Dale cautioned, “Stick to adjacent buildings for reinforcement. Further out means more risk.”

All men not assigned elsewhere joined the scouting teams, along with volunteers from the women: Anja, Polina, Nicole, Bea, Carly, Jemma, and Ling.

Before they left, Dale and Allegra took Tom, Sven, and Joe aside, away from prying ears. This conversation was delicate, but necessary.

Allegra stood beside Dale, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She was the one who decided who got in. That meant this was as much her call as it was his.

“We’ve been lucky so far, but as we expand, we have to maintain cohesion,” Dale began.

Allegra didn’t wait. “We need a hard line. No more taking chances on the wrong people. One weak link can break everything.”

“What’s worrying you?” Tom asked.

Dale exhaled slowly, choosing his words. “Look around. We’re already a minority in London, and it’s getting worse out there. East End—Asian groups. South of the Thames—Africans, Muslims. They’re sticking together. We have to do the same.”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Only English? Not many left now.”

Allegra scoffed. “Europeans are fine. They’re like us. They don’t have the same tribal bullshit as the others.” She gestured between herself and Sven. “I’m Italian. Sven’s Swedish. Do we look like a problem?”

Joe nodded slightly. “Fair point.”

Dale continued. “We can take Europeans unless they’re trouble. But beyond that...”

“Albanians are out,” Allegra cut in. “They’ll form their own little mafia overnight. Not worth it.”

Tom tilted his head thoughtfully. “What about Indians? Asians?”

Allegra’s voice was measured, but firm. “Asian men? Not worth the risk. Some might seem fine, but if they’ve got family or community ties, their loyalty won’t be to us.” She paused, then shrugged. “Some of the women could work. If they’re alone, cut off, willing to adapt.”

Sven smirked. “So what, hot women are fine, but no hot Black blokes?”