Knight slipped a single page of typed text across his desk towards Anderson.

'Just tell me, Steve,' responded Anderson coldly not wanting to touch anything Bruger had.

Knight rose and stood with his back to his chief security officer to look out of the plate glass window onto the small garden where he often went and sat. The ten feet square area was his sanctuary where he would often escape with a cup of treasured coffee. Closing his eyes, he could make believe that the world was as it used to be and that the plague had never come, and when he opened his eyes, it will have all been a bad dream. It never worked. He had tried it many times. 'Price for the food supplies has changed.'

'Tell him to go fuck himself,' spat Anderson.

Knight snorted as he turned, 'Oh I would love to do that, Craig, believe me. Nothing would give me more pleasure but...'

'I know, Steve, I know. We need the food,' sighed Anderson in resignation.

Steve nodded. The long spoon of acceptance of having to sup with the Devil was not sitting well in his hand.

'What does he wants now?' Anderson had to fill many shopping lists on countless scavenging trips for Bruger. Items ranging from TVs to computers, exercise bikes, alcohol and countless other whims of the maniac, apart from the mainstay of their trade, the low quality fuel that Fort London produced at its crude refinery.

Knight swallowed deeply, ‘He...he wants 50 women from our fort. Pure women for...’

Knight didn't get to finish as Anderson exploded to his feet. ‘He wants us to pimp for him. No, Steve not a chance. Not gonna happen.'

Knight sat onto the edge of his desk as Anderson paced back and forth, the President not being prepared to speak until the man had calmed down. At six feet five and two hundred and sixty pounds of which less than seven percent was fat, the ex-SAS man was an intimidating figure. Add to that a set of fighting skills normally spread amongst six men that Knight had seen at close quarters and anyone would understand his hesitance. Eventually, his security chief stopped pacing and turned eyes onto Knight that were so filled with hate Knight actually caught his breath. 'We...we need the food, Craig,' he reminded quietly.

Anderson leaned down, his face inches from Knight, 'No, Steve,' he hissed his voice razor edged, ‘we need to kill him.'

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