Gavin Arrives

Two days later, around 1:40 p.m.

Near Atlanta, at the encampment in Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

After two days of construction, the camp built around the Great Smoky Mountains National Park ranger cabin had begun to take shape. While it was not as if Log Cabins had sprung up from the ground, the various prefabricated structures brought by the Alliance and the New York Council now numbered more than twenty.

America was full of simple prefabricated buildings like these—too many to count.

Although the zombie fungus had caused many of them to deteriorate rapidly, even rapid decay would not completely ruin them within a year.

Once the guys had located the manufacturers and dealers of those prefabricated buildings, they could collect them, clean them up, and put them into use.

Their service life had declined, but with proper maintenance, they could last three to five years without issue. They might even last ten.

As for now—

Outside those prefabricated buildings, on the road leading from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park ranger residential area toward the park entrance—

Two groups stood distinctly separated on either side of the road.

There were more people on the left, at least a hundred and ten or so.

They stood in exceptionally neat formation, their ranks stern and orderly. The Chairman stood at the front left with his hands behind his back, while his chief aides and military commander stood beside him, their hands held straight against the seams of their dress trousers and uniforms as they waited in silence.

Behind them, the New York Council's people stood in rows of five.

They were so neat, it was as though they had been measured with a ruler!

The group on the right side of the road was much smaller, numbering only around thirty.