Chapter 97: Survivor Tax

The tension in the air was palpable. News had spread across the wasteland that a man named James was rapidly expanding his survivor group. The major survivor factions had taken notice, but one medium-sized group had decided to act first.

They arrived in broad daylight, a show of force meant to intimidate. A dozen men, armed and confident, marched toward the entrance of James's growing compound. Their leader, a grizzled man named Donovan, bore the insignia of the UNO's newly appointed tax enforcers.

"You James?" Donovan called out, his voice carrying across the open ground.

James stood on the defensive wall, observing them with cold calculation. He could see it in their eyes—arrogance. They believed the UNO's authority gave them power over everyone else. But James knew better.

"What do you want?" James replied, his tone neutral.

Donovan smirked. "I'm here on behalf of the UNO. As of now, all recognized survivor groups must pay their fair share. Twenty-five percent of your supplies, weapons, and manpower. You're under their protection now."

James let out a quiet breath. This was expected. The UNO had begun their 'divide and conquer' strategy, appointing enforcers from mid-tier groups to handle their dirty work. The goal was clear—starve independent factions into submission.

James's mind worked quickly. A direct confrontation now would be foolish. He needed to send a message, but it had to be done in a way that didn't directly implicate him. That night, the tax collectors would regret stepping onto his land.

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A Message in Blood

James called for Ray and Vivian as soon as the tax collectors left. They met in the strategy room, dimly lit with maps spread across the table.

"They'll be back tomorrow to collect," James said. "We won't be here when they arrive."

Ray raised an eyebrow. "You want to abandon the base?"

James shook his head. "No. I want them dead before sunrise."

Vivian's eyes gleamed with understanding. "You're going to use the creatures."

James nodded. "The creatures don't just attack randomly. They follow patterns—sounds, scents. We've seen it before. If we can lure them into the tax collectors' camp, the problem solves itself."

Ray grinned. "Brutal. I like it."

James turned to Mason. "You still have the distress beacons?"

Mason nodded. "Enough to make sure they're surrounded."

---

The Night Hunt

Under the cover of darkness, James and a small team moved toward the tax collectors' camp. It was nestled in a ruined parking lot, a few miles from the compound. The enforcers were laughing, drinking, celebrating their perceived victory over James's group.

Silently, James placed three distress beacons around the perimeter. The high-frequency pulses would act as a lure, drawing the nearest mutated creatures directly to the camp. Then, he and his team retreated into the shadows.

Minutes passed. Then the first howl rang through the night.

The enforcers jolted upright. One reached for his weapon. "What was that?"

Then came the second howl, closer this time.

Panic set in. They fumbled for their guns, scanning the darkness. But it was too late.

From the shadows, twisted creatures surged forward, their eyes gleaming with hunger. Screams erupted as the tax collectors opened fire, but their bullets did little to stop the relentless horde. The camp turned into a massacre, bodies torn apart under the moonlight.

From a distance, James watched through his scope. Not a single enforcer would leave this place alive.

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Becoming the Tax Collector

By morning, James had already put the second phase of his plan into motion. When the UNO sent messengers to check on their enforcers, they found only carnage. The tax collectors were gone, their camp reduced to shredded remains.

James made his next move swiftly. He sent an envoy to the UNO, carrying an offer: he would take over as the tax collector for this region. Unlike the previous enforcers, he would ensure efficiency, stability—and most importantly—order.

The UNO would see it as a win. They needed control, and James had just proven that their previous enforcers were too weak to handle the job.

Of course, James had no intention of actually working for the UNO.

This was just the beginning of his real plan—to undermine them from within.

The night was thick with tension as I studied the flickering flames of our campfire. The tax collector group had been torn apart, their bodies left in the darkness, a grim warning to anyone else who thought to come and claim what was ours. But the real game had just begun. If I was going to replace them in the UNO's eyes, I had to play this perfectly.

Ray sat beside me, sharpening his knife with slow, deliberate strokes. "You really think they'll just hand you that title?"

I smirked. "They won't have a choice. The medium survivor group sent to collect taxes is gone. Someone has to step in, or chaos will spread. The UNO thrives on control, and I'll offer them exactly that."

Vivian, arms crossed, narrowed her eyes. "And if they suspect? If they send an investigation team?"

"Then we'll give them exactly what they want to see." I leaned forward. "A frightened survivor group, eager to comply. A new tax collector who ensures order. And, if needed, a scapegoat."

Mason's voice crackled over the radio. "Got word from the scouts. The bigger survivor groups are talking. They've noticed us, James. Some see an opportunity. Others see a threat."

I exhaled slowly. "That was inevitable. Now, we control how they see us."

---

The New Role

The next morning, I set the plan into motion. We staged a distress call, broadcasting over an open frequency. "This is James Callahan of Haven. The tax collectors sent by the UNO never returned. If order is to be maintained, someone must take their place. Haven is willing to step up. We will collect, distribute, and ensure compliance."

It didn't take long for a response. An official from the UNO—someone lower-ranked, not one of their top brass—answered.

"James Callahan. We've heard rumors about you. A survivor group growing too fast. What makes you think we'd trust you with this responsibility?"

"Because I have no choice," I replied, my voice carrying the right balance of urgency and submission. "The alternative is anarchy. Without order, the survivor groups will turn on each other. The last tax collectors are dead. If I don't take over, someone else will. Someone unpredictable."

A pause. Then: "We'll send an envoy to discuss terms. Don't disappoint us."

---

The Envoy's Arrival

Two days later, a sleek, armored vehicle rumbled into our territory. Five UNO representatives stepped out, dressed in reinforced tactical gear, their hands never straying far from their weapons. At their center stood a woman in her mid-forties, sharp-eyed and efficient.

"Evelyn Roth," she introduced herself. "Minister of Resource Allocation."

I smiled politely. "James Callahan. Haven's leader."

She surveyed the area. "This is an impressive setup for an independent group."

"Survival demands efficiency," I said smoothly. "Shall we talk?"

We led them into the central hall, where we had prepared a feast—not extravagant, but enough to show we had resources. Perception was everything. If we looked too desperate, they would see us as weak. If we looked too strong, they'd see us as a threat.

Evelyn didn't touch the food. "Tell me why we should trust you."

I leaned forward. "Because I want the same thing you do—order. I can collect taxes more efficiently than anyone else you'll find. The survivor groups already fear the UNO. But they also fear betrayal. They need someone who understands them. Someone they can talk to. That's me."

She studied me for a long moment. "And if they refuse to pay?"

I met her gaze. "Then I make an example of them. Publicly. To remind them why compliance is the only option."

A flicker of approval crossed her face. "You understand power. That's rare."

---

The Test

Evelyn wasn't about to hand me authority without proof. "There's a group nearby—forty survivors. They've refused taxation twice. If you want this role, you'll bring me their tribute. Or their heads."

Ray tensed beside me. Vivian's expression darkened. But I nodded slowly. "Consider it done."

As soon as the UNO delegation left, the real conversation began.

"James, you can't seriously be thinking about killing forty people just to prove a point," Vivian hissed.

I exhaled. "Of course not. We're not butchers. But we need to be smart."

Ray frowned. "So what's the play?"

"We give them two choices," I said. "They can 'pay' their tribute to us, and we'll make it look like we took it by force. Or, if they refuse… we make an example out of their leaders and let the rest fall in line."

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The Confrontation

That night, we approached the holdout survivor camp. It was a small, fortified ruin of an old shopping center, barely holding together. Guards stood at the entrance, wary.

I raised my hands. "I come with an offer. Talk, or die."

A grizzled man stepped forward, his rifle steady. "You're the one trying to get in bed with the UNO. Why should we trust you?"

"Because if I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead," I said flatly. "I'm offering you a way out. The UNO sent me to take your tribute or take your lives. If you give me something—anything—I make it look like I fought for it. You live. The UNO is satisfied. Everyone wins."

Murmurs spread through the survivors. A woman, younger, stepped forward. "And if we say no?"

I didn't hesitate. "Then I make an example of you and your leader. The rest will pay anyway."

Silence. Then, the leader exhaled. "Fine. We'll give you half our stores. But if you ever come back, we fight."

I nodded. "Fair deal."

---

The Aftermath

When we returned to Evelyn, we brought the 'spoils of war'—a collection of food, supplies, and weapons. Just enough to look hard-earned, but not so much that she'd suspect.

Evelyn inspected the goods. "And the survivors?"

"Those who resisted are dead," I lied smoothly. "The rest know better now."

She studied me. Then, she smiled. "Welcome to the UNO's ranks, Tax Collector Callahan."

---

Author's Thoughts

James's decision to use creatures as a weapon is both strategic and terrifying. In a lawless world where power is the only currency, he's choosing to manipulate the system rather than fight it head-on. But what would you do in his situation? Would you have tried diplomacy with the tax collectors? Or is preemptive violence the only way to survive in a world ruled by fear?

Moreover, by aiming to become a UNO tax collector himself, James is stepping into dangerous territory. Is this a brilliant play for power or a gamble that could expose him? If you were leading a resistance, would you infiltrate the enemy like James, or take a more direct approach?

Let me know your thoughts!