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Chapter 70 — Riley’s, probably
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2026-06-15 07:45:31Four days after the cannery run, the base produced a quiet hour.
A real one.
Not the usual apocalypse quiet, which was just noise holding its breath. Actual quiet. No disputes over rations. No one bleeding in medical. No Aaron attempting to improve a storage category by making it worse. No Marcus’s people moving with their unsettling almost-silence through the warehouse like a rumor with boots.
For once, the base simply worked.
Maya used this badly.
Sh
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Dead Weight Chapter 82 — Dex, regrettably.
The mattresses arrive like a religious offering. People actually cheer — quietly, because the dead are rude about joy, but enough that Maya has to pretend she isn't moved by grown adults getting emotional over foam density."Easy, everyone," she calls. "They're mattresses, not democracy.""That's because you already sleep on a bed," Aaron says."I sleep on paperwork and spite."Eli jumps down beside her, two flat-pack frames under one arm. Dust streaks his cheek; a bruise is blooming along his jaw. He looks tired. Alive. Amused.Maya reaches up without thinking and wipes the dust from his cheek with her thumb.It is small. Nothing. It is also, apparently, visible from space.Eli stills for half a second. Maya realizes what she has done. He does not make it a thing, which is kind, and therefore worse."Inventory first," he says quietly."Yes." She removes her hand like it has committed a minor offence.The ne
Dead Weight Chapter 81 — Flat-pack trauma
The new gate opens beautifully.That is suspicious.Maya stands beneath the crosswalk as Eli and Pete haul the inner bar free, and the reinforced panels swing inward with a heavy, obedient groan.For one glorious second, it looks like civilization.Then Aaron says, “Feels very castle-y,” and ruins it by being correct.Maya points at him. “Do not say castle-y in front of the gate. It’ll get ideas.”The plan is simple. Which means it is lying. They need beds. Mattresses. shelves. Anything that turns twenty steel boxes from maritime storage into rooms where people can sleep without waking up with corrugation imprinted into their souls.The nearest flat-pack furniture outlet sits three miles east, a blue-and-yellow monument to affordable domestic optimism and relationship-ending wardrobes.Maya takes Eli, Pete, and Priya in her truck. In another she’s assigned Carol, Caleb, Ron and Tessa.
Dead Weight Chapter 80 — The wall, the gate, and the man with the shirt problem.
By noon on build day two, the road has stopped looking like a road.This is deeply satisfying.Maya tries not to enjoy it too much, because enjoying things is how the universe finds your address.The containers sit tight now, steel ribs locked shoulder to shoulder down both sides of the approach, doors facing inward like a row of blunt, ugly promises. Carol calls them “modular habitation units,” which is what happens when someone gets too close to engineering and starts flirting with syllables.Maya calls them rooms. Twenty of them.Lockable. Dry. Defensible.Privacy, storage, isolation, overflow quarters, and blessed acoustic distance from Marcus’s people, who have apparently mistaken the end of the world for a breeding program with mood lighting.“Container twelve is two inches proud,” Eli says.Maya checks the chalk line.He is right.Of course he is.“Two inches proud
Dead Weight Chapter 79 — Build day
By eight in the morning, Maya has discovered that building a wall out of shipping containers is exactly like assembling flat-pack furniture, if the furniture weighs two tons, requires a crane, and can kill three people because someone sneezed near a guide rope.So, essentially, Swedish design with consequences.“Two feet left,” Eli calls.Molly, in the crane cab, lifts one hand without looking away from the swinging container. Her face is pure focus, all grease streaks and joyless concentration, which on Molly means she is having the time of her life.The container drifts.Slow.Huge.Awful.Beautiful.Maya stands at the chalk line with the site map tucked under one arm, radio in hand, trying to look like a commander and not a woman who has willingly introduced industrial logistics into her grief process.“Hold,” Eli says.The container stops. Almost.It sways half an inch. Ev
Dead Weight Chapter 78 – Leisure as morale infrastructure.
Molly blinks. “Leisure?”The word sounds obscene in the room.“Yes,” Maya says. “People need somewhere that isn’t bed, work, medical, or arguing beside beans.”LUS says, Morale infrastructure added to construction priorities.“Don’t make leisure sound like plumbing.”Both prevent collapse.Annoyingly fair.Maya circles VIBE.Recreation hall. Meetings. Training in bad weather. Movie nights if Priya can resurrect anything that plays sound without summoning every dead thing within postcode range. A place where people can be people for an hour instead of units in a ration calculation.Sam would have liked that.The thought arrives without permission. Maya lets it stand for half a second, then goes back to the map because standing still hurts.Eli studies the container lines again.“How do we stop someone using the roofs?&
Dead Weight Chapter 77 — A need for better security. And privacy.
The problem with surviving an attack is that afterward everyone expects grief to be the main activity.Maya understands the impulse.Sam is still in the ground. The west wall still smells like smoke. There is a dark patch on the concrete no amount of scrubbing has managed to make less specific.Emotional truth: Sam is dead because the margin was too thin.Deflection: excellent. Nothing like a funeral to really sharpen your interest in urban planning.Sharper truth: the base did not fail because people weren’t brave. It almost failed because the road invited death in from both sides and politely offered it parking.So Maya makes a list. Because it gives grief somewhere to stand while she works.ROAD ENCLOSURE.Two words. Boxed. Aggressively Underlined.LUS hums awake in the back of her skull.Current perimeter failure analysis: open lateral approach, insufficient choke control, poor visual interruption, e
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