It feels like pandemonium is descending on the compound.

The Commander waves his arms, trying to get everyone to shut up. “We have not been able to make radio contact with them. As I said, the message is recorded and repeats on a loop. There’s no way of knowing if the people who sent it are even still alive.”

“We’ve been combing the airwaves for four years!” Zeke shouts from beside me. “Wouldn’t we have heard it before now if it was old?”

The crowd agrees and the Commander looks flustered, like he’s starting to lose control. Everyone begins shouting at once.

“We need to make contact!”

“Can we send a search-and-rescue team?”

Suddenly I feel it, that the tides of opinion are changing. Never before have the people of Fort Noix received a direct call. Before, it was easy for them to sit back idly because there was no real proof that there were other survivors’ camps out there. But now the proof has arrived, and people are becoming unsettled.

Ryan gives me a mournful smile. He knows full well what I’m thinking: that I want to leave in search of the Texan survivors. He knows that he is finally about to lose me. I feel terrible for him, but when I look over at Molly’s and Zeke’s triumphant expressions, my resolve returns. The turn of the tide is exciting for all of us. My dream of rebuilding civilization might be about to happen. Now, I just need the people of Fort Noix to demand that the Commander use his resources to start helping those in need.

But there’s still a strong isolationist faction arguing against those who are challenging the status quo.

“We can’t risk being found!” they cry. “It would be a suicide mission!”

Everyone’s shouting. The voices that are demanding that the Commander help become louder, bolder, stronger. More forceful. They start drowning out the shouts from the isolationists and any of the supporting voices of the Commander.

“We made an agreement years ago,” the Commander cries. “Fort Noix does not seek survivors. Our own survival depends on us remaining secret and hidden.” But as he looks out over the crowd, his expression changes, like he can see that it is not enough anymore, that many, many people no longer agree. “I ask of you all, please, that we sit down and talk about this. Democratically.”

People begin to fall silent, taken aback by the mention of democracy, something that a fort run on military command doesn’t usually get to experience. I catch sight of General Reece’s distasteful expression, as though she certainly would have preferred this not have been resolved diplomatically at all.