"Danger zone. Please come here to register your numbers so we can arrange your relocation."
All the women looked at one another in dismay. This was the post-apocalyptic world, not the pre-apocalypse, when everyone was supposedly equal. Most women had been expected to look after their husbands and raise their children. Now, with that old order gone and education having been neglected, many people hadn't even finished elementary school.
As a result, the people here didn't have much of a mind of their own.
The soldier started playing the recorded announcement on repeat. He borrowed a table from one of the villagers and set it up, then stood there with a pen, watching the crowd.
"Anyone who registers here can receive three days' worth of food to start: compressed biscuits and sports drinks."
However, none of the women responded to the soldier's announcement. That was only to be expected. The women here had little education and little initiative, while the men of the household had gone out to find food. Those left in the village were all women, children, and the elderly. Of course, there were exceptions...
"Excuse me, young man... I'd like to ask you something. Are you sure it's Her Majesty the Empress?"
As he spoke, an old man emerged from the crowd. He looked to be in his sixties, with a few wrinkles on his face, a hoarse voice, and graying hair. But the keen, piercing look in his eyes made people instinctively wary. Without a doubt, he'd been a soldier, seen battle, and even killed people.
Anyone who'd reached that age was generally born in the nineties. In other words... our village chief was someone who'd lived before the apocalypse.
There were several old people like him in nearly every village nearby. Some taught culture as