Chapter 8

Friday, November 26, 2027, The White Tower

Dale woke early, feeling the warm presence of Nicole and Ida still asleep beside him. He allowed himself only a brief moment of comfort before his mind sharpened, refocusing on the demanding day ahead. Their community had grown significantly, and Dale intended to use that strength decisively. Today, for the first time, they would deploy three full platoons, each numbering forty members.

Joe and Sven each commanded one platoon, while Dale’s trusted friend Charlie led the third. Charlie had proven himself impressively reliable over recent weeks, making tough decisions without hesitation, efficiently distinguishing between valuable survivors and those who posed a threat or a burden.

Each platoon was meticulously organised: eight soldiers, heavily armed—four wielding rifles for ranged precision, four carrying shotguns for close encounters—and four officers armed with pistols to maintain tight control. Another four team members specialized in negotiation and recruitment, processing any suitable survivors they encountered.

Twelve additional people in each squad handled clean-up operations—grim but essential work. They were responsible for removing bodies, overseeing their transportation, and ensuring each corpse ended up dumped far away in the Thames. Dale insisted guards always accompany this grim task, wary of potential trouble or ambush. These clean-up teams were also tasked with scavenging useful supplies and removing perishables. Dale was acutely aware that the abandoned city risked becoming a breeding ground for rats and other vermin. He didn’t want future reclamation efforts hampered by buildings filled with decaying food or the animals such decay would attract.

The final twelve members of each platoon comprised the engineering team. These specialists handled forced entries, bypassing locked doors or security measures. More crucially, they were initiating the next critical phase of Dale’s long-term strategy. He estimated that the pandemic had already wiped out ninety-nine out of every hundred people; his own policies had pushed that number even lower in the areas they’d systematically cleared. Many buildings would likely remain empty for decades, subject to decay and deterioration. Dale knew they couldn’t stop it entirely, but they could minimise the damage.

They had strict protocols: in every flat, they drained heating systems and water tanks, opened taps fully, shut off water at each flat’s stopcock, and disabled all electrical circuits. Once finished, they tried shutting off the main water supply and power grid at street level. Teams carried detailed maps scavenged from bookstores, carefully marking their progress and noting completed areas in orange paint for clear future reference. Although these precautions slowed them down, deploying three platoons ensured steady, meaningful progress.

Today’s mission was clearing Soho and pushing further west, carefully skirting around Chinatown. Meanwhile, a smaller team of twenty remained closer to the Tower, systematically performing the same routine. These areas had already been cleared of people, making their work faster but no less crucial. Dale was ambitious—his actions calculated, always with an eye toward the long-term future.

At the Tower itself, Bob’s engineering group had made significant strides. They’d installed over two hundred kilowatts of battery storage connected to numerous solar panels scattered strategically around the Tower’s vicinity. Winter had diminished solar output considerably, yet they’d finally achieved enough stability to turn off their noisy diesel generator. Chris, an electrical engineering graduate on Bob’s team, had cleverly modified their main water pump, integrating a pressure-sensing feedback loop. Now the pump automatically adjusted flow based on actual demand. Water was still cold, but surplus energy would soon heat immersion coils, promising at least occasional lukewarm showers. If prolonged cloudiness drained their batteries, they could always temporarily revert to the generator.

Polina, meanwhile, led a small team meticulously developing a centralised record-keeping system. Despite their improving electricity situation, Dale and Polina agreed it was premature to entrust critical records solely to computers. Paper backups, though cumbersome, remained essential for now.

At noon, Dale rode out with his guard to meet Imam Ali, as agreed. Ali awaited him atop the hill, map in hand, flanked by ten armed men. In a practiced ritual, both sides ceremoniously placed their weapons down and advanced slowly, meeting midway with wary caution.

“As-salamu alaykum,” Ali greeted him formally.

“Peace be with you,” Dale responded evenly, mindful of appearances.

“You’ve observed our strength by now,” Dale began deliberately, adopting a carefully measured tone. “We have significant numbers, ample weaponry, and firm control of the Tower. If we decided to expand eastward, we would almost certainly prevail.”

“You haven’t truly seen our numbers,” Ali countered firmly, his voice edged with determination. “Never underestimate our strength or our faith. Allah stands with us—He will guide us to victory.”

Dale suppressed his irritation; clearly, Ali wasn’t interested in de-escalating. He changed tactics, maintaining a diplomatic façade. “We’ve all witnessed too much death already,” Dale lied convincingly, despite privately having no qualms about further bloodshed if necessary. “We seek only to define boundaries clearly, avoiding unnecessary conflict between our groups.”

Ali regarded him carefully. “State plainly what you want.”

Dale hesitated briefly, preferring Ali to speak first, but relented. “We seek control of the docks and all land south of the railway tracks to Limehouse Basin. Any survivors there who prefer to join you, we’ll gladly send your way. To the north, we propose splitting control clearly along Leman Street, Commercial Road, and the A10. You remain east, we’ll occupy the west.”

He deliberately avoided mentioning any trade in resources. Their own supplies—water, electricity, scavenged goods, especially their valuable weapons—were not negotiable. Besides, Dale doubted Ali’s people had anything he truly needed.

Ali scoffed, “You’re ambitious—too ambitious. You don’t even control most of those territories yet. We already have people established in Aldgate and Shadwell. Those belong firmly to us. You can have St Katharine’s Docks, the immediate land surrounding the Tower, and areas west of Fenchurch Street.”

Dale studied Ali intently, wondering if he bluffed. Dale tapped his finger on the map confidently. “We’ve already cleared the Minories. You’re not there. We can agree on this line.” He traced firmly north from Tower Bridge, marking clear streets until hitting the A10. “Everything west of here. You can keep Shadwell, but we claim Wapping, south of the highway.”

Ali paused briefly, then conceded slightly. “West of Wapping Lane, then. That’s acceptable.”

They agreed cautiously. Dale wondered privately how many Europeans lived under the control of the East End Muslims—and how well they fared. He couldn’t comfortably broach such delicate questions, knowing his own community’s harsh selection methods would raise difficult, potentially dangerous conversations.

After parting, Dale walked the Tower ramparts with Tom, quietly discussing their situation. Ali’s stubbornness left Dale uneasy, and he decided swiftly to strengthen nighttime defences. He increased their overnight guard contingent to ten, unwilling to risk complacency.

As evening approached, all three platoons returned successfully from their mission, bringing back sixteen women and two men from Soho. Dale was unsurprised by the low numbers and skewed gender ratio. Soho had never been a family-friendly area, attracting primarily shady or transient characters even before the collapse. His commanders wisely rejected anyone who seemed suspicious, showed evidence of drug use, or appeared otherwise untrustworthy. Dale silently approved of their judgment. Rejecting these problematic survivors now meant fewer potential threats later.

He instructed Clare explicitly to conduct thorough health screenings for the new arrivals, particularly checking for sexually transmitted infections. Thus far, they’d been fortunate, avoiding outbreaks within the Tower community. Dale was determined not to introduce any new contagion into their carefully cultivated sanctuary. Vigilance remained vital.

After dinner, Dale gave another brief speech, reinforcing the community’s recent achievements and reminding everyone of the discipline still required. Once he’d finished, he headed off for a lukewarm shower—the best they could manage for now. It refreshed him, clearing his head and easing away some of the day’s stress.

Returning to his quarters afterward, Dale paused and chuckled in mild surprise. His usual bed had undergone a significant transformation. Someone had thoughtfully combined two super king-size mattresses, fastening them securely onto sturdy box springs to prevent them from sliding apart. Even the bedding had been meticulously reworked to accommodate the expanded sleeping area. Clearly, someone had ambitious plans in mind.

For now, though, only Nicole and Natalie awaited him, reclining casually on the spacious bed wearing very little and exchanging playful glances.

“Like what you see, handsome?” Natalie teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You two are very naughty,” Dale said with amused resignation.

Nicole pouted slightly. “We didn’t even get a turn yesterday!”

“And you think seducing me like this will earn you more attention?” Dale retorted lightly.

“Fair point,” Natalie conceded, laughing. She moved toward him, voice turning softer, more inviting. “Then let us take care of you tonight.”

Natalie guided him gently onto his back. Moments later, he felt her warm mouth enveloping his cock, slowly drawing him into hardness. Nicole climbed alongside him, pressing her soft lips to his, deepening the intimacy. Once Dale was fully erect, Natalie straddled him, slowly lowering herself onto him, the sensation of her warm, tight walls gently enveloping him sending a rush of pleasure through his body.

As Natalie began riding him rhythmically, Nicole shifted positions, gently straddling his face. Dale obligingly kissed and licked her, tasting her eagerness as he used his fingers to heighten her pleasure. Within minutes, Nicole reached a trembling climax, pressing herself firmly down onto him, momentarily pinning him to the mattress.

“My turn now,” Natalie announced playfully as she climbed off Dale’s cock. Nicole moved aside to recover, flushed and satisfied, while Natalie repositioned herself, smoothly taking Nicole’s previous spot on Dale’s face.

Nicole, her breathing steadied, now began sliding her body along Dale’s erection, quickly becoming wet again. With deliberate care, she slowly impaled herself onto him, taking time to adjust to the deep penetration. She felt incredibly good—tight and warm, her lithe frame seeming impossibly light as she began finding her rhythm atop him.

The combined sensations threatened to overwhelm Dale. Natalie had not yet climaxed, and he redoubled his focus on pleasuring her, but Nicole’s tight warmth gripping his cock was rapidly driving him toward the edge. He felt a primal urge swelling inside, his grip tightening instinctively on Nicole’s hips as he pulled her closer, thrusting upward until he could hold back no longer. He groaned deeply, his cock erupting powerfully, releasing waves of pleasure as he filled her with his seed.