Alan had begun issuing resource collection missions in spatial zones where unique materials could be found—materials that would no longer be accessible later on.
The method? Using cargo helicopters to speed everything up. Tons of food, weapons, and tools were being stored in the massive cargo ships docked along the coasts where they still had control.
It was estimated they still had at least a few more weeks before the border with Mexico and parts of Texas would be bombed, giving them far more opportunities than they had before.
First, all collection points were being centralized and exported to the ships so that, in the future, there would be a single main base located on the island.
Everyone was also aware of the expanding farming zones, and it was only a matter of time before everything became mechanized. Alan still had no plans to relocate all the people in that provisional shelter, as it would mean losing a large amount of plant-based food.
While Tomm6's teams gathered supplies from supermarkets that hadn't been looted, John's group handled security and ensured nothing went wrong.
Alan, on the other hand, was with Stuart, who was locating abandoned bases overrun by infected in order to take advantage of all their resources and remaining personnel.
The main issue was the fuel for the helicopters, which had been in constant use since the chaos began. Even though they had hundreds of tanker trucks, a single helicopter consumed at least twenty gallons of gasoline per hour—and the cargo ones consumed even more.
This problem was temporarily solved by taking control of several helipads, but it would persist, and they needed a long-term solution.
For now, they were recruiting all the remaining soldiers from other bases and many deserters who had gone searching for their families.
"Zz... Descending, please clear the landing zone."
Three helicopters full of soldiers descended onto one of the largest coastal bases. After landing, Stuart approached a young man standing at attention.
"Who's in charge?" Stuart asked, looking at the young soldier who seemed to have enlisted less than a year ago.
"Sir, the Major of this base blew his head off."
Stuart glanced at the soldier's name and asked, "Daniel, are you in charge?"
"Many have deserted, sir. There's no one in command." Daniel shook his head as he watched new soldiers arrive at the base.
Stuart understood—this base apparently hadn't been evacuated because of the high number of deserters, leaving the younger ones unsure of what to do.
"I'm Major Stuart. I'll be taking control of this base. Gather everyone for an emergency evacuation. Tell them to prepare the Amphibious Landing Ships and get ready to take all Humvees, tanks, and any missile-launching vehicles on this base."
As Stuart gave the order, his men sprang into action, and the roughly three hundred soldiers lined up to receive instructions.
Alan, who was in the warehouses, found many military vehicles. The problem was that all of these would need to be transported to the island, which was supposed to be under construction over the next few days.
These military bases were well-equipped—even drones, control vehicles for them, and numerous tanks that would be a headache to move were present.
But they couldn't leave any of this behind for potential enemies. FEDRA was losing the battle against the infected faster than they could admit.
"Everyone's on the move. The people helping us load everything onto the cargo ships are on their way." Stuart understood the importance of what he was doing, so he didn't say anything more.
Alan nodded, looked at the ships being loaded with Humvees, and said, "We start moving to the island today. We need to begin reshaping it if we want it to be optimal for our future operations."
"Joel is working on it with the construction group. The machinery has been loaded and is just waiting for orders," Stuart replied, watching trucks being loaded with crates of cartridges and all kinds of weapons.
Alan nodded again, said nothing, and walked away into the distance to ensure everything was running smoothly and nothing had been overlooked.
This was the third base they planned to strip of resources. They had focused on the largest ones to loot, and the others would only be cleared of essentials like machine guns, ammunition, and food.
The number of survivors in Alan's group had increased exponentially, but none of that worried him. Santa Catalina Island could easily house thousands of people and had terrain suitable for reconstruction.
"There are five AC-130 aircraft on this base. That brings our total to forty. The pilots are here, and, luckily, their families have been found," Alan thought as he did the math.
Everything could be kept in order because there was a clear leadership structure. The leaders cared about their soldiers, and the civilians, who were being protected, cared about those guarding them.
By maintaining this understanding and communication, there was no dissatisfaction—everyone was working, and no one was being fed for free.
When Alan proposed this structure, everyone understood that as long as they did their jobs, the soldiers wouldn't be dissatisfied.
"All that's left now is to move the planes and complete the relocation," Alan thought as he watched the ships being loaded with all kinds of materials.