The first survivors arrived on Day Three.
I was on the roof of the longhouse, scanning the horizon with a pair of binoculars. The Mist was thinner in the mornings, allowing me to see the service road winding up the valley.
A family of four—father, mother, two kids—stumbling through the fog. They were half-starved, covered in scratches, and clearly in shock. The father was limping badly.
I met them at the gate, shotgun in hand.
"Please," the father gasped, collapsing against the fence. "We just need water. A place to rest. We'll leave in the morning, I swear."
I studied them.
The mother was clutching a toddler who hadn't stopped crying. The older child, maybe eight, was staring at our walls with desperate hope. They looked harmless.
But in this world, looks were deceiving.
"Strip," I said.
The father blinked. "What?"
"Outer layers. Jackets, shoes. Throw them over the fence. We're checking for bites."
They complied, trembling. Alex stood beside me, his eyes scanning the pile of clothes and the family's skin.
"Clean," he murmured. "No visible marks. But look at the kid's eyes. Dilated."
"Shock," I said. I looked at the family. "We don't have much food. You work, you eat. You cause trouble, you leave. Understood?"
"Yes," the mother sobbed. "Yes, thank you. God bless you."
"God has nothing to do with it," I said. "Open the gate."
They entered.
They weren't the last.
By Day Seven, we had twenty-three people.
A nurse who'd escaped an overrun clinic. A mechanic with a toolbox and a grim expression. Three college students who'd been hiking when the world ended and somehow made it to us on foot.
And Marcus Chen—my old logistics contact—who arrived with a caravan of three scavenged vehicles and a weary grin.
The gate guards alerted me, and I ran out.
Marcus climbed out of the lead truck, a rifle slung over his shoulder. He looked thinner, harder, than I remembered.
"I told myself you were crazy," he said, shaking his head as I approached. "For months, I thought, 'Evelyn's finally lost it.' Then the sky turned green, and I thought, 'Damn, I should've been crazier.'"
I actually laughed. It felt strange in my chest. "You brought supplies?"
"Canned goods, fuel, some medical kits I raided from a pharmacy." He gestured to the trucks. "And three more mouths to feed. Hope that's okay."
I looked at the trucks, then at him. "More than okay. It's essential."
But not everyone was an asset.
A man named Derek—who'd arrived with the nurse—caused trouble on Day Nine.
We were rationing dinner—a thin stew made from the deer meat and some early root vegetables. Derek wanted more.
"You're hoarding it," he spat, standing up in the middle of the room. His voice was loud, challenging. "I see the crates in the back. Why do your kids get full portions while we starve?"
The room went quiet. The air grew tense.
"My kids," I said calmly, not standing up from my chair, "work patrol shifts and guard the perimeter. My daughter held a shield for four hours yesterday while we repaired the fence."
"And my wife is a nurse!" Derek shouted. "She saved your mechanic's leg! Doesn't that count?"
"It does," I said. "That's why she gets a full portion. You, however, spent the day 'looking for firewood' and came back with three sticks."
His face reddened. "You're not in charge. We didn't vote for you. This isn't a dictatorship."
I stood up slowly.
The air in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.
"You're right," I said, walking toward him. "You didn't vote for me. This isn't a democracy. This is my land. My base. My supplies. And my family."
I stopped a foot away from him. He was taller than me, but he flinched.
"If you want to leave, the gate's right there. I'll even give you a day's rations. If you want to stay, you follow the rules. Everyone works. Everyone contributes. No exceptions."
He glared at me.
Then, slowly, he sat down.
The challenge was over.
But I knew it wouldn't be the last.
I looked around the room, meeting every pair of eyes.
"We are building something here," I said. "Not just a camp. A home. A future. But we do it together, or we don't do it at all."
I sat back down.
The eating resumed.
But the dynamic had shifted.
I wasn't just Evelyn anymore.
I was the Founder.
And this was my kingdom.