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The sun was setting over Beaufort, casting a warm, golden glow across the stronghold. People were gathering for dinner, grateful for another day of safety and survival. Frank, Annie, Colt, and Nash sat at one of the long wooden tables set up in the open-air dining area. Around them, marines, civilians, and newly arrived survivors enjoyed their meal, the mood light despite the underlying tension of their situation.
Across the table from Frank sat George, the former mayor of Charleston. Tim, the doctor they’d rescued, was engaged in conversation with Annie, clearly eager to contribute to the medical team. But George was quieter, his sharp eyes observing everything, particularly the way the community operated. Frank had noticed it too, the way George asked questions without actually asking them. He was gathering information, and Frank didn’t like it.
"So, Frank," George finally said, breaking the relative silence between them. "What’s the plan for the long term? You’ve built something impressive here, but we both know it won’t last unless there’s structure. Leadership. Governance."
Frank didn’t look up from his plate. "We’ve got leadership," he said gruffly. "The marines and the community work together. We make decisions as a group."
"Sure, for now," George continued, his tone conversational, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes. "But as this place grows, as more people come in, you’ll need more than that. You’ll need laws. A system to keep order. Otherwise, it’s chaos."
Colt, sitting beside Frank, shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t trust George either, and the way the man spoke reminded him too much of the old world. The world where people like George were in charge, pulling strings behind the scenes.
Annie noticed the tension rising and tried to diffuse it. "We’ve been doing just fine without politics," she said gently. "People here know what’s at stake. We work together because we have to."
George smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "That’s all well and good, Annie, but sooner or later, human nature takes over. People will want more—more control, more security. It’s inevitable. And when that happens, you’ll need someone who knows how to manage it."
"Someone like you?" Colt asked, his voice edged with suspicion.
George met his gaze steadily. "Yes, someone like me. I’ve been in leadership roles before. I know how to keep people together, how to make hard decisions when the time comes. You’re going to need that."
Frank finally looked up, his eyes cold. "What we need, George, is to survive. We’re not rebuilding the old world here. We’re not going back to the way things were. What you’re talking about... it sounds like politics. And politics doesn’t belong at this table."
"Frank’s right," Ruiz chimed in from a few seats down. "We’ve managed without all that so far, and we’re better off for it. The last thing we need is someone trying to bring back bureaucracy when what we need is action."
George chuckled, leaning back in his chair as if he found the entire situation amusing. "You can’t avoid it forever. As this place grows, as more survivors come in, they’ll want more than just a military operation. They’ll want a future, a community. You can only govern with guns for so long."
Frank’s hand tightened on his fork, but he kept his voice level. "We’re not governing with guns. We’re protecting people. There’s a difference."
Tim, sensing the growing tension, cleared his throat. "I think what George is trying to say is that structure is important, but so is keeping the spirit of cooperation alive. We don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past."
Annie nodded, grateful for Tim’s attempt to steer the conversation back to a calmer place. "Exactly. We’ve all seen what happened to the old world when politics and power got in the way. We can’t let that happen again."
George didn’t respond immediately, but Frank could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was calculating, assessing the room, figuring out his next move. Frank had seen men like him before—men who thrived on control, who couldn’t stand not being in charge. He knew George wasn’t going to give up on his idea of taking over, not without a fight.
"I hear you," George said after a moment, his tone conciliatory. "But I’m just saying, keep an open mind. This place is growing, and it’s only going to get more complicated. I’ve got experience that could help you. That’s all I’m offering."
Frank’s eyes narrowed. "We’ll keep that in mind."
The rest of the meal passed in tense silence, the usual easy conversation muted by the unspoken conflict brewing at the table. When dinner was over, George excused himself and walked toward the makeshift housing area, leaving Frank, Annie, and the others to sit in uneasy quiet.
Colt leaned toward his father, lowering his voice. "I don’t trust him."
"You’re not alone in that," Frank said, his voice grim. "Men like him don’t give up power easily. He’s testing the waters, seeing how far he can push before someone pushes back."
Annie sighed, resting her head on Frank’s shoulder. "Do you think he’ll try to take over?"
"He’ll try something," Frank replied. "We just have to make sure he doesn’t get the chance."
Nash, who had been quiet throughout the conversation, finally spoke up. "Do we really need politics, Dad? Can’t we just keep doing things the way we’ve been doing them?"
Frank looked at his youngest son, his heart heavy. Nash was still young, still hopeful, and Frank wanted to protect that for as long as he could. But he also knew that as their community grew, the challenges would only become more complex.
"I don’t want politics here any more than you do, Nash," Frank said softly. "But the bigger this place gets, the harder it’s going to be to keep it simple."
Colt crossed his arms, his expression resolute. "Then we make sure it stays simple. We don’t need someone like George running things."
Frank nodded, but he knew it wasn’t that easy. George wasn’t going to sit back and let others lead. He’d push, and when the time came, Frank would have to push back.
Annie, ever the peacemaker, stood up and placed a hand on Frank’s shoulder. "We’ll figure it out, like we always do. For now, let’s focus on what’s important—keeping everyone safe."
Frank smiled at her, grateful for her steadiness. "You’re right. We’ll handle George when the time comes. But right now, we’ve got more important things to worry about."
As the family got up to leave, Frank cast one last glance in the direction George had gone. He didn’t know when the former mayor would make his move, but he knew it was coming. And when it did, Frank would be ready. Politics might not belong at their dinner table, but it was knocking on their door, nonetheless.
And Frank wasn’t about to let it in without a fight.
.