As night fell, Red-Rock lit up like a beacon, a sole pillar of light in the dark expanse of the wasteland. The scouts had reported in, Wade was right, Cutlass was mustering his forces and preparing an attack on the outpost.
The waiting was long and tiring for Thomas, rubbing his eyes as he made his rounds, double-checking the defences, the wooden walkway creaking under every slow step. The uneven woodwork, the bumps and chips and splinters, must have made traversing the camp difficult for July, Thomas thought, he’d have to make a note of restoring the walkways as well.
July had been quiet for most of the night, mentioning that it was finally time to send a message to the other six factions. He never specified exactly what the message was, however.
“As we continue this campaign against the Raiders it’s only a matter of time before the other factions understand the threat that we pose to them,” he had explained. “This is a delicate situation, with the taking of Red-Rock we’ve moved beyond the point of subtlety, any wise general knows that you don’t wait for an uprising to grow, you kill it in its infancy.”
“That’s all well and good,” Tom agreed, “but we’re not even close to battle-ready.”
“Exactly, which is why we need to intimidate the other factions into thinking it’s too late – that the cost of losing precious resources outweighs the cost of snuffing us out – especially when they have other far more urgent battles to fight.”
Now, as Thomas observed the outpost’s turrets silhouetted against a bleeding sky, he saw July holding a radio, and understood the nature of the message. He hurried to the nearest radio set, on a table against the wall of the central courtyard, where soldiers had their weapons leaning on their chairs, and were playing cards in the lamplight. The radio whirled and buzzed as Tom switched the frequency and listened to July’s voice:
“My name is July Mundane. I am the leader of Haven’s revolution and the author of The Deathly Quill. Are you listening, Oliver? No doubt you are aware that we are no longer subject to your tyranny. Your time is up. You will never control us. And you, Mitch Buster, the Red-Rock outpost is now under our domain – this is non-negotiable. As for the rest of you; Chaos, Zellweger, Kennedy, Sokolov… like you, we desire peace, however, should this prove impossible you will see for yourselves the extent of our resolve.”
Thomas stared at the radio, the nearby soldiers too, in utter silence. A few months ago, this entire campaign against the Raiders had seemed like a fantasy, but here they were on the first step of a long journey. Tom knew that July’s message wasn’t simply a threat, it was an invitation for Mitch to send his retaliation party, a justification for Haven to make their next move. Something about it, though, seemed uncanny – Thomas had never thought so far ahead until now, when he wondered just what the extent of Haven’s resolve really was.
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