Chapter 3: The New Protocol
The silence in the clinic following Jin's declaration was heavier than the oppressive gloom of the town's night. It was broken by the sharp, incredulous laughter of Sheriff Boyd.
"You're implementing a new protocol?" Boyd stepped forward, his face a mixture of exhaustion and fury. "Son, you've been here for one night. You have no idea what you're talking about."
Jin turned his head slowly to face him, his expression impassive. "On the contrary. I have been here for precisely one day/night cycle, during which I have made several key observations. One: Your community operates on a decentralized, fear-based system with no clear strategic objectives beyond surviving until sunrise. Two: Your resource management is nonexistent. Three: Your defensive posture is entirely passive. These factors combined create a 100% probability of eventual systemic collapse. I am not asking for leadership; I am assuming the function because you are incapable of performing it effectively."
Every word was delivered with the cold, detached precision of a surgeon. Before Boyd could retort, Jim Matthews, the father of the injured boy, spoke up, his voice raspy.
"What... what would your 'protocol' be?"
Jin's gaze shifted to him. "Phase One is simple. We stop being victims and start being survivors. First, we quantify our assets. Second, we fortify our environment. Third, we establish a rigid operational discipline." He turned and walked out of the clinic, leaving no room for debate. "Town meeting. Diner. Ten minutes."
The meeting was tense. The entire population of the town—a few dozen weary souls—crammed into the diner, eyeing the strange, heavily armed young man who had commandeered their lives.
Jin stood before them, using a cleared table as a lectern. His custom Lexus was parked just outside, a silent, black monolith.
"As of this moment, this community is on lockdown," Jin began, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "All resources are now communal assets, pending a full inventory. Donna," he said, looking directly at the diner's owner, "a full accounting of your pantry, please. Your canned goods are now a strategic reserve."
Donna sputtered, "You can't just—that's my diner! That's my food!"
"Your diner is now designated Command Post Alpha," Jin stated, completely ignoring her emotional outburst. "And your food is now Fuel. Nothing more."
He continued, laying out the new rules with brutal efficiency. A mandatory buddy system—no one travels alone, ever. A new, earlier curfew, thirty minutes before sunset, to be enforced strictly. A full structural analysis of every building to determine its defensive viability.
"Mr. Matthews," Jin said, looking at Jim. "You're an engineer, correct? Rollercoasters."
Jim nodded, surprised. "Yeah, structural engineering."
"Adequate," Jin replied. "You will lead the survey team. Determine load-bearing walls, structural weaknesses, and potential fortification points for every building. Report your findings to me by 18:00 hours."
For the first time since the crash, a spark of purpose lit up Jim's eyes. He had a problem to solve. He nodded. "Okay. I can do that."
The meeting concluded with Jin assigning tasks, not based on feelings or friendships, but on his cold assessment of each person's skills. The residents, accustomed to years of passive survival, were stunned into a state of grudging compliance. His logic was infuriating, but it was also undeniable.
Later, Jin found Kristi in the clinic, meticulously organizing the advanced medical supplies he'd provided. She looked up as he entered, her expression wary.
"Your work in stabilizing the boy was efficient," Jin said. It was the closest he could come to a compliment. He handed her a thin, laminated card from his pack. "This is a standard military field triage protocol. It prioritizes treatment based on survivability probability. Memorize it. We will drill tomorrow at 08:00."
Kristi took the card, her eyes scanning the cold, clinical flowchart. She looked up at him, a hint of defiance in her gaze. "And if I have questions, sir?"
Jin simply nodded. "I would expect you to." The briefest flicker of mutual professional respect passed between them before he turned and left.
His next stop was the general store, where Jim Matthews was already beginning the inventory. He found Julie listlessly stacking cans, her movements sluggish with despair. Jin watched her for a moment.
"Your current output is inefficient," he stated. Julie jumped, glaring at him.
"My brother almost died and we're trapped in a nightmare town. Sorry if I'm not moving fast enough for you," she snapped.
"Your emotional state is a liability," Jin replied, unfazed. "But you are mobile and you can follow instructions. Your father requires an assistant for the inventory. Your new designation is Logistics Aide. Catalog every item, its quantity, and its expiration date on this." He handed her a weatherproof notebook and a pen from his jacket.
Julie stared at the notebook, then back at him. He hadn't offered sympathy. He hadn't been kind. He had given her a job. A purpose. In a world that had stolen all of her agency, that small, logical command was a strange and unexpected anchor. She took the notebook without a word.
As the afternoon waned, the town was a hive of reluctant activity. For the first time in a long time, the residents weren't just waiting for the sun to go down. They were working.
Sheriff Boyd found Jin at the edge of town, near the tree line. The young man had set up a small, powerful spotting scope on a tripod, its lens aimed at the dark woods. He was making notes, his focus absolute.
"This is insane," Boyd said, walking up behind him. "You're treating my town like a military exercise. These are people, not soldiers."
"People die," Jin said, not taking his eye from the scope. "Soldiers die too. The difference is that soldiers have a strategy. They have a chance."
"You're going to get yourself killed, standing out here in the open."
Jin finally lowered the scope and turned to face the Sheriff. His eyes were cold, but for the first time, Boyd saw something other than detached logic in them. He saw a flicker of a fire, a fierce, burning intelligence.
"Incorrect, Sheriff," Jin said. "I am gathering the necessary data to transition from defense to offense. You cannot win a war by hiding in a bunker."
He gestured toward the dark, silent forest.
"Tomorrow, we build traps."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Chapter complete! I read every single comment, so let me know what's on your mind! If you want to support the fic even more, a review or some power stones would be amazing. Cheers!