Everyone had gathered in the central square—what was left of it. Wooden crates, plastic stools, and overturned barrels served as makeshift seats. The cold breeze carried the sharp scent of smoke and melted snow, but the air was heavy with anticipation. George stood to one side, his arms crossed, watching as we stepped onto the raised porch of the old town hall to address the people.
James stepped forward first, clearing his throat. "Thank you for coming. We know things are not easy, but we're here today to talk about what's next—what we're offering and what we'll need from each of you."
I glanced at the paper in my hand, then looked up at the crowd. "We're not just handing out supplies—we're inviting you to build a new life with us. Near our base, there's enough land and resources. But we need structure. Order. Cooperation."
