A distant response

Two days later, at around eleven ten in the morning.

After spending the entire morning inspecting the farm, Gavin rode with William and three other internal affairs staff along the somewhat dilapidated highway from the resort toward the manor. They had already passed the checkpoint by the fields. Looking at the people still working in the distant farmland, Gavin took out a cigarette, lit it, and quietly asked the men beside him, "Do you remember what Thomas said? What were we supposed to plant after the harvest?" "All sorts of things, boss. The Alliance's food this fall is going to amaze everyone!"

Beside him, William urged his horse closer to Gavin and answered casually.

"The steward said there aren't many things we can plant at this time of year. They all have to be harvested before winter arrives." "He's been preparing for a locust infestation all along, but the locusts never showed up. That's given us a whole lot of opportunities." "One crop I remember is watermelon!"

"Whoa, watermelon's my favorite! I admit Old Mac might not like the stuff, but I do. I really do!" "And besides watermelon, we've expanded our farmland by nearly seven hundred mu to grow cabbage, red cabbage, pumpkins, tomatoes, okra, cowpeas, cucumbers, corn, and, of course, green beans!" "See, boss? That's our Alliance. Outside it, most survivors in this apocalypse are living in misery, but we can leisurely talk about what we'll harvest and what we'll be adding to our menu!"

"I'm not just flattering you and the Alliance. Our publicity department—the radio station—isn't spouting nonsense like those media outlets controlled by the Democrats and Republicans, either!" "Our radio station receives plenty of messages every day. Most camps in other states that can reach us have all kinds of problems they need help with.