The Ruins Part 3 (Series of The Ruins)

Chapter 43

"Before we do, we have to take you to quarantine." Informed the woman. "Newcomers get check for bites and all have to answer a few questions."

"What about answering questions straightly to your leader?" Lugh insisted, unsure to go to the holding area.

"We have procedures here- procedures that have to be followed. Follow me."

The guards took all our guns and the three set off for the gate onto the main street, as they did so, they stopped at another gate, metal fenced gate which revealed the Main Street of the Frontiers, a large tattered flag hanged on one of the street lights with the signature letter 'F' painted boldly. The woman is sitting at her desk, drafting paper what could be an infection outside the facility or even inside

"You got your call-up for this shit, Beta?" the woman asked. Beta answered in the negative; the woman smirked and laughed in response.

"We got some company. Doesn't look like they're infected."

They had false ID papers and the woman looked at the three; Mal, Lugh and Riot. No-one really cared at this point on who they are or if they were dangerous, she turns them in, marking on no infection at them and they entered within the large community.

Everywhere there were signs of the decay that had consumed the once bustling city. Piles of uncleared garbage, paving stones shattered into uneven shards and a singular absence of the sound of air conditioning units, the one-time summertime chorus of urban America. Among those garbage's, there was some healthy lifestyles to it as well. A stock ring of a arced garden spread through the straight ahead street, growing variable foods of vegetables, fruits, fruit trees and berries. Few civilians that were not wearing any armor worked the garden, planting seeds, watering and adding a few nutrients to fertilize it. They worked and looking at Mal, their eyes are feared, knowing they must work to survive in order to get their supplies and ration dollars.

Overhead, on the roof of the building, a soldier armed with an assault rifle strode back and forwards uneasily, watching the people beneath them. This compare of the people being imitated like they're in prison camp. Of course, that is more or less what it was. It was just that monsters this prison was created to house were the ones running the walls.

Suddenly a subtly horn announcement cycled as everyone who is outside and the soldiers stand up straight, taking their hats or anything they are wearing on their head off, an arm crosses over to their heart as the PA speakers on every street corner as a HMMWV armored car with a fifty-caliber machine gun turret roared a triumphant song.

The cause of the proudness of the various guards was easy to see. The music sound like an anthem, the people singing over the musical song; Mal never heard the song, but knows it was the anthem of the Untied States of America. The fact that the Frontier respected the historical national anthem, it would be suspicious if Mal and Lugh didn't join as well; Riot already knows the drill. Lugh was nervous too if he messes up, so they have their hand to their hearts. As the songs ends, everyone gets back to their routine.

"God Bless America," Beta said, taking a long breath. "Or should we say God Bless the Ruins. Although, the Ruins is not a fuckin' bless, eh?" He suddenly glared at Riot, and Mal steps forward at his stare, letting him know she got Riot in her control.

"You gonna show me the grand tour or are we gonna suck each others dicks?"

Yeah, that sounds like Negan, Mal's thoughts said, encouraging her to imitate Negan. It's fun to do it- playing the confident no filter asshole. Just need them to believe I'm the Negan.

Beta grinned, licking his chapped lips as he led the way.

As walked off to the end of the street and turning to the right it is now the market's venue with two military trucks at the two ends of the corner of the old buildings where people may be sleeping an staying over. At the far left was the laundry/cleaning station, washing clothes, making hides into clothing and materials- the sweatshop it would be called as soldiers with guns walk around the poor small men and loads of women work desperately for rations. They walked over to a corner where a fat, sweaty woman was selling clothes.