461

You step forward and move to a spot where you can see each member of the group and all of the nominees. "If you want to survive through this outbreak and whatever hell comes after it, then we have to accept the reality that the world as we knew it is gone. Zombies are everywhere, and they want to infect us, but they're just one of the threats. Zombies won't try to steal our food. Zombies won't shoot at us when we're out in the open. The infected won't try to kidnap us or torture us or ransack our safe haven. Humans will do all of that."

You pause for a moment and look over the faces of the survivors staring back at you. "To survive, we need to be the predators, not the prey. We need to treat those we meet as enemies who have the supplies we need. If they want to join us, fine. They can fall into line and take up our cause. But if not, then we need to deal with them like we would the living dead.

"Now, I know this might be hard for some of you to swallow. You might not want to be on the bad side. Hell, I'd rather be sitting my ass on a couch right now, with a drink, feet up, watching TV. But that's not reality. The reality is that at any moment, a truck of killers could drive down that highway, find us standing here, shoot us, and take our stuff. We can't let them do that. We have to act first. We have to be the alphas. We need to be the group others fear. If you want to survive, we need to join together right now and say, 'We are alive, and we run this apocalypse!'"

Cheers spread through the group, with fists pumping the air and even some applause, especially Reilly and Madison.

"That's the natural way—survival of the fittest," Madison says.

"Hell, yeah!" Reilly yells, while some survivors take a more subdued approach to approving of your plan to run the group.

By the reaction you receive, winning the vote for leader appears to be a lock.