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.

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?”

Dale returned the grin, but Allegra didn’t smile.

“Blacks are out,” she said, her tone absolute. “No exceptions. We gave Maya and Renee a chance, and look how that turned out. They sat around, took what they could, and put nothing back in. That’s not happening again.”

Joe shifted slightly but didn’t argue. No one did.

“And Muslims?” Tom asked.

Dale hesitated, but Allegra spoke first. “No men. End of discussion. Too tribal. Too much baggage. You let one in, he’s whispering in the ears of every other brown face in the Tower. Next thing you know, we’ve got a mosque, we’ve got separate rules, and suddenly we’re the outsiders in our own home.”

Dale nodded. “Women?”

Allegra tilted her head, considering. “Some, maybe. If they’re alone, scared, willing to change. Some of them will adapt.”

Joe exhaled. “And what do we do with the ones we don’t bring in?”

“If we strip the area of food and leave them behind, they’ll cause trouble,” Tom said.

Allegra met Dale’s eyes. “Then we don’t leave them behind.”

Joe winced. “You’re saying we kill them instead?”

Sven met his eyes. “It’s dog-eat-dog now. Them or us.”

Dale hesitated. He wasn’t there yet. Not fully.

“We’re not setting up death squads,” he said. “But if they cause trouble—”

Allegra stepped closer. “Then they don’t get to leave.”

She didn’t need to say it. They all knew what she meant.

Dale exhaled. “If they look easy to move, send them packing. If they cause trouble, the river’s right there.”

Tom nodded. “I can do that.”

Joe agreed. “Same.”

Sven, cautious, nodded last. “Fine, but we need to be careful. One slip-up could cost us everything.”

Dale looked at Allegra. She wasn’t just agreeing to this. She was driving it forward.

She caught his gaze and held it, her meaning clear. This was necessary. He had to see that.

Dale felt unsettled about what they’d agreed, but the choices ahead were stark. Survival wasn’t polite, wasn’t nice—but they weren’t living in nice times anymore.

Meanwhile, Clare and Natalie transformed the former hospital block into a functional infirmary, planning additional supply trips to Guy’s Hospital. Dale pulled Clare aside, gently instructing her to quietly check on the rescued girls—physical and psychological damage could run deep.

Polina began meticulously setting up inventory records, methodically noting resources, possible supply locations, equipment, and every survivor’s skills and background.

As Dale toured the grounds, he paused at the raven enclosure. Two ravens remained; the sign said the monarchy would fall if they ever left. Dale nearly laughed—hardly seemed like the monarchy was standing anyway. The crown jewels in the Waterloo block could attract trouble, he mused grimly. They were becoming reluctant custodians of something utterly worthless in this new world.

His thoughts inevitably drifted outward. Beyond the docks lay the East End, a million inhabitants, largely immigrants from South Asia and Africa. Even a fraction surviving would dwarf their own community. His mind churned uneasily: What if groups organized against them? Was it wise to clear areas so aggressively, potentially provoking reprisals? But hesitation would be fatal—he knew they needed to act decisively, establish dominance, and control resources. Survival depended on ruthlessness now, not idealism.

Throughout the day, scavenging teams returned, bearing more survivors: three women, two men, and a child. They were swiftly integrated. Later trips added nine women, three teenage girls, three men, and four children—numbers growing rapidly, increasing their strength but stretching resources thin.

As darkness approached, the south end of the hall was organized for parents and young children, adding a semblance of normalcy. Dale settled for sleep, Nicole and Natalie slipping beside him for warmth. Nicole’s hand rested provocatively close, fuelling his frustration. Desire flared, raw and insistent, but Dale resisted, knowing he was their leader—good behaviour was expected. His discipline was weakening, though.