Humanity Gone: Facade of Order Read Online Free

miles away in the middle of Amish country in the north. Rumor has it that the Amish children did reasonably well after the plague, so naturally the New Americans capitalized on their success. Ryan continues, “One of our scouting cars stumbled upon another one of their farms in the northwest. It seems they took a few more Amish or Mennonite farms and are sending these crops and cattle directly to Washington. They are using a large number of forced laborers to move the land and harvest. The scout reported that they are working them to death up there. They call it the Mill.”
                  He stops and looks around at all of us. We have liberated a few of these types of places before. It is always dangerous. The New Americans were better equipped than us, but usually we managed to maintain the element of surprise. It seems like a small advantage, but we became good at exploiting it.
                  “So,” Ryan continues, “we plan to forcibly take over the Mill and set the workers free. Not only could it possibly increase our numbers here, but it will be devastating to their supply line.They will have trouble maintaining order in Washington when people start getting even hungrier.”
                  Rumor has it that the New American's are barely able to feed everyone at the capital. As they grow, their army, their food shortages, and their supplies are quickly dwindling. Once we all could depend on canned food, but at this point almost all of it has been used or has expired. Washington does not have the food infrastructure to sustain everyone. If we remove the Mill from the equation, they are going to feel the pressure. Pressure is good. We always hoped that our little intrusions would cause his growing empire to collapse on itself.
                  “How heavily guarded is it?” David asks. He steps from along the back of the tent to the table with his fists shoved into his pockets. He is the second in charge. His hair is cut short and his eyes are a deep brown that is nearly black. He spent at least an hour a day at our make-shift “gym.” He very well could have been the strongest of us all, judging by the size of his arms. I kept myself in good shape, but I would never want to cross him. His sense of humor is usually crude, but harmless. David was a police officer in a nearby city, and like me, managed to be one of the very few immune to the virus. We estimate one out of every 200,000 adults were immune. Not many. There is probably less than 2,000 people my age or older in the whole country. Like Ryan, we are lucky to have David, too.
                  Ryan seems to hesitate before he responds.
                  “To be honest,” he continues, “Very. They know this is important, and they have several dozen men simply on patrol. The scout counted forty-two, but it could be even higher. He also counted nearly one seventy-five forced workers.”
                  Ryan is hesitant to use the word slave, but that is what they were. Skin color has nothing to do with it anymore. I decide to jump into the conversation.
                  “Are we going to try and then develop the land as well? Lord knows we could use more food around here.” It is true. We managed to create a food supply from a few acres of land, but portions and variety were slim.
                  “As of now,” Ryan answers. “No. We can't keep it safe if Washington would decide to send its core army to it. We wouldn't have a chance. Our mission is to free the forced laborers, and seize all the supplies we can for the resistance.”
                  The resistance is our rag-tag group of survivors, and wasn't a match for the standing army that is usually camped in Washington. We number nearly two hundred, but we are nothing compared to the New Americans. Most of us don't even fight. We do our best to maintain what America really was