Chapter 19
The engine hummed as the truck rolled back into camp just past sunset. Smoke curled from the chimneys they'd built out of scrap pipe. Children's laughter was replaced by the low murmur of tired adults finishing their chores. The camp was alive—but quiet. Watchful.
Since the day axel took charge over the camp he took some people in
It was no longer a camp with only 15 people
If had more now
Axel stepped down from the truck. His boots hit the dirt like a command.
Jason hopped out beside him, cradling a bag of salvaged tools. He looked around and noticed how the camp's energy shifted. People paused to watch Axel walk by—some with hope, others with fear, but all with respect.
Hank approached. "Everything go well?"
Axel nodded. "Better than I thought."
He handed Hank the paper with notes: engine specs, parts, location, terrain.
"We found a generator," Jason added. "Big one. Needs fuel, but it'll power this place for months if we get it running."
Axel gestured for them to follow. "We talk inside."
They entered the main tent—the old leader's tent, now Axel's. It was clean, organized, but stripped of any comfort. Hank sat first. Jason leaned against a wall, setting the bag of tools on the ground.
Axel sat across from them.
"We have a plan," he said. "Jason found what we needed. That generator gets us power. Real power. Lights. Heat. Maybe even water pumps if we push."
Hank raised a brow. "And fuel?"
Axel tapped the map. "Northwest. There's an old road leading to an abandoned factory. They stored diesel. Risky, but I know it's there."
Jason frowned. "That's a three-day trip. Through bandit territory."
Axel's eyes darkened. "Then we take the right people. Quiet. Fast. No mistakes."
He looked to Hank. "While we're gone, I want drills. Guards rotating. Checkpoints at the gate and towers."
Jason swallowed and cleared his throat. "What about food?"
Axel turned to him. "We hunt. We plant. And we trade—if needed. The farmer already doing his jop it will take some time yes but it's there the hunter already got us animals. alive "
He stood, voice low but commanding.
"This isn't a camp anymore. This is a fortress in the making. The world out there is chaos. We don't survive by hiding. We survive by building."
He paused, eyes on both of them.
"And if anyone questions it…"
He tapped the paper again.
"Send them to the cell."
Jason and Hank walked out together in silence—both realizing that Axel wasn't just building safety.
They both Finally they understood
Axel was building a kingdom.
---
The sun hovered high above the treetops, casting warm gold across the fortified camp. Axel stood at the edge of the gate, watching as five chosen men prepared the truck. It was loaded with fuel, chains, tools, and a flatbed ready to carry the large generator they and Jason had located days prior.
He stepped forward, eyes scanning each man.
"No talking. No helping strangers. Get in. Load it. Drive back. Don't play heroes. Clear?"
Each of them nodded in silence. No salute. No smiles. Just obedience.
The truck's engine roared to life and pulled away, tires kicking up dust as it vanished into the dense forest road.
Axel turned his back to the road and walked slowly through the heart of the camp.
The place had changed.
Chickens clucked softly from their wooden pens. The hunter—strong and silent—had returned yesterday with two goats, tied and bleating. Children ran barefoot, chasing each other between the half-built gardens. Women gathered at the communal tent, chopping vegetables or boiling water. The blacksmith had even fashioned tools for farming—shovels, rakes, and crude plows pulled by hand.
A wall now stood around the camp, four watchtowers looming at each corner, each manned and armed.
Axel moved through the crowd like a ghost.
Some greeted him with cautious nods.
Others averted their eyes.
They didn't follow him out of love. Not respect. Not yet.
They followed because Axel was the embodiment of survival.
They'd seen him kill, build, lead, and judge.
They'd seen him save lives—and end them without blinking.
He paused in front of the old barn turned infirmary. Inside, Mary was teaching two young women to stitch wounds and check pulses. They weren't nurses yet. But they would be.
He turned to Emily, standing nearby with her clipboard—always taking notes.
"Count again," Axel said.
Emily didn't question. "Yes, Axel."
He moved on, walking through the rows of vegetables. Small green sprouts had broken through the soil. The farmer knelt nearby, eyes squinting at the leaves like a father studying his child.
"Good?" Axel asked.
The farmer smiled. "Good enough for a beginning."
Axel nodded and kept walking.
He reached the prison—a makeshift structure at the back of camp, fortified with barbed wire and locked metal doors. Empty, for now.
He stood there for a long while.
Reflecting.
This wasn't the same place he'd taken by force.
It was evolving.
He had taken chaos and carved order from it.
And the people—they hadn't followed him because they wanted to.
They followed him because they had no other choice.
He was power.
He was purpose.
He was the thin line between life and death in this broken world.
And as the wind stirred the trees beyond the wall, Axel knew one thing for certain:
This was only the beginning.
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