I wasn’t supposed to be out alone.

  But I told Gail I needed to “clear my head,” which is post-apocalyptic code for “let me go make a bunch of bad decisions without anyone breathing down my neck.”

  He gave me a two-hour window and one condition: stay within the southern perimeter. I took my usual pack, my trusted axe, Ol' Reliable 2, and a two-way radio I swore I’d use.

  I didn’t plan to.

  The buildings in this area had already been picked over, but you never know with the apocalypse. It’s like a broken vending machine—you kick enough of them, one might give you a free soda.

  Or an ambush. But hey, that’s life now.

  I passed an old laundromat, a collapsed pharmacy, and the skeleton of what used to be a pet store. Didn't even bother checking that one—I'd rather not cry over expired dog treats and memories of a schnauzer I never owned.

  My feet took me toward a small electronics shop. Front window smashed, but shelves still standing. A couple cords, busted radios, a power bank missing its guts. I pocketed a few things anyway. They’d make Alex happy. Maybe.

  But I wasn’t really here for supplies.

  I was looking for answers in the middle of a wasteland.

  The factions, the radio broadcasts, they were still rattling around in my skull like loose marbles. Government? Cult? Ragtag alliance of huggable survivors?

  Gail wanted structure. Alex too. It made sense, they thrived in it. Alex could build anything with resources and time. Gail needed a system he could punch people in.

  Jules? She wanted safety. She’d take the rules if they came with warm meals and a guarantee she wouldn't die in her sleep.

  Harun was pure. The collective spoke to him. That stubborn part of him that believed people could still be decent. That scared me more than any of the other options.

  And me?

  I didn’t know.

  Structure meant order, sure, but it also meant falling in line. I barely survived college rules and gym class. What chance did I have in a place where I’d be “Private Elliot” under someone else’s boot?

  The Unity Group was a no-go, that one was easy. I’ve seen enough cult documentaries and the insides of their twisted fortress (I haven't, but It's fun imagining about it.)

  The collective… felt like us. But a bit bigger. Vulnerable. What if we joined and they expected me to lead or inspire? I’d rather wrestle a dog variant with a spoon.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  I wandered into a gas station next. Stale air. Ripped snack bags. Jackpot: a couple bottles of water and a half-melted chocolate bar. I stared at the chocolate, wondering if it was safe, then shoved it in my pack. Some risks are worth it.

  My fingers brushed against a travel brochure under the counter. “Visit Cincinnati, Where the Heartland Meets the Future!”

  Cute. Real subtle, universe.

  I sighed and leaned back against the counter, pulling out my notebook. A quick list:

  ----

  Government Faction

  - Medicine

  - Paperwork

  - Power

  - Stability

  - Oppression?

  - Rules

  - Paperwork

  - Uniforms.

  - Hierarchy

  - Probably paperwork.

  ---

  Unity Group

  (nope)

  ---

  The Collective

  - Human

  - Open

  - Maybe actual democracy

  - No power

  - Weak

  - Too trusting?

  ---

  I tapped the pen against the page. No answers came. Just more thoughts. More doubts.

  That’s when I heard something.

  A low shuffle outside.

  I froze. Set the notebook down. Reached for Ol' Reliable 2. Waited.

  It passed. Just wind, or maybe my own paranoia. Lately, it’s hard to tell the difference.

  I exhaled, quietly.

  If this was a story, this would be the part where I found a symbol. A torn flag, a wounded survivor with a sob story, a message in blood saying “TRUST NO ONE.” But no. Just a dusty store, bad chocolate, and a spiral of indecision.

  I walked out, feeling no closer to clarity than when I left.

  Maybe I didn’t need to pick a side yet.

  Maybe I just needed to be ready, whatever came knocking.

  ---

  I got back just as the sun was smearing the horizon with the color of old blood. The gate to the Fortress creaked open for me, Gail watching from the roof like a gargoyle with better posture.

  I didn’t say anything. Just nodded.

  He didn’t say anything either. Just nodded back.

  I unloaded my haul into the main room, two water bottles, a broken power bank, some wiring that might make Alex happy, a dusty notebook full of second guesses, and a chocolate bar I wasn’t emotionally ready to share yet.

  Then I called everyone in.

  “Hey,” I said, voice louder than I meant it to be. “Meeting. Now. Or, like, in five minutes. I don’t want to be dramatic about it.”

  Five minutes later, they were there. Gail leaning against the wall like he was doing me a favor by showing up. Alex perched on an old ammo crate, eyes curious. Jules had her arms crossed, but there was a softness in her gaze. Harun brought a blanket and sat criss-cross on the floor like he was in kindergarten show-and-tell.

  I paced for a second. Tried to start three times. Failed each one.

  Finally, I sighed and just sat on the floor too, next to Harun.

  “Okay,” I said. “Here’s the thing.”

  I rubbed my face.

  “I don’t know what to pick. Between the government, and the, whatever the second one is, the ragtag good-vibes collective.” Skipping over Unity Group, like it's the gooey substance in the kitchen drain.

  They watched me, letting me speak. That was new. Usually someone would jump in with a joke or a quip. But tonight, they just waited.

  “I went out today thinking I’d figure it out. Like, some divine sign would fall out of a vending machine and I’d suddenly know which group wouldn’t kill us in our sleep or turn us into unpaid labor.”

  I chuckled, but no one laughed. Not even Harun. Right. Not a joke moment.

  “I keep trying to weigh it all. Like if I think hard enough, I’ll spot the right answer in the fine print. But every option’s got claws.”

  I looked at Alex first then Gail. “The government might have medicine and food. But they’ll want soldiers. Or subjects. I barely function with a morning routine. I’m not gonna salute some rando in a pressed uniform because he’s got a badge.”

  Then to Jules. “The Unity Group is a hell no. I’d burn every version of me in every multiverse before signing up with those lunatics.”

  She gave a tight nod. Agreement there.

  “And the collective…” I glanced at Harun, then down at the floor. “They sound nice. Too nice. Like the kind of people who want to share and build community. You know what that gets you these days? Eaten. Or betrayed. Or worse.”

  No one argued. Not yet.

  I rested my arms on my knees and let out a breath. “So here’s where I’m at: I don’t know. I don’t know what’s safest. What’s smartest. I’m not wired for this kind of thing. Long-term planning, strategy… choosing a future. That’s not me.”

  My voice cracked just slightly on the last words.

  “I don’t want to screw this up for us.”

  A beat passed.

  And another.

  The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Shared.

  Then Gail spoke, surprisingly gentle. “You’re not the only one deciding.”

  “I know,” I said quickly. “But it feels like I should have an answer. Everyone else seems to be leaning one way or another. I’m just... stuck.”

  Jules uncrossed her arms and sat closer. “We all are. We just hide it better.”

  Alex offered me a faint smile. “Honestly? It’s refreshing to hear someone admit they don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”

  Harun placed a hand on my shoulder. “Not knowing… it just means you’re thinking. That’s good.”

  I closed my eyes.

  I hadn’t realized how much tension I was holding in my chest until it all deflated in that moment.

  Maybe we didn’t need to know today. Maybe the future wasn’t a decision, it was something we’d build or break into. Together.