Chapter 90: Guest
On the walls of Kensington Base, the setting sun was slowly sinking. An afterglow of interwoven orange and molten gold filled the western sky, coating the heavy walls and the bustling figures of people in a warm halo of light.
Francis Grant stood amidst the sunset glow, binoculars held tightly in his hands, his gaze sweeping over the area stretching more than ten kilometers around the city walls.
The once scattered buildings and lush vegetation had all been razed to the ground. Inside the seemingly endless perimeter walls, countless soldiers and survivors were densely garrisoned.
On the open ground, innumerable workers were working against the clock to heighten the city walls, the roar of machinery mingling with the shouts of the people.
Soldiers of Celestia were stationed everywhere, their postures ramrod straight as they focused on guard and security duties.
The survivors, on the other hand, formed neat lines, methodically shoveling grass and clearing away construction debris and rubble.
Watching this orderly progress, the brow he had been furrowing for days finally relaxed a little. The heavy burden on his shoulders seemed to lighten somewhat as the sunset glow fell on his taut profile, softening the weariness in his features.
Twenty meters above the base’s main gate, which almost seemed to merge with the wall, the large words "Kensington Base" were exceptionally conspicuous, giving all who saw them an immense sense of security.
Samuel Summers was reporting the census results to the tall man on the wall. "Colonel, the base’s population census is complete. We’ve discovered two more dual-ability Superpower Users. One has Healing and Spiritual Abilities, and the other has Space and Water Abilities."
’Dual-ability Superpower Users? Two of them?’ A glint flashed through the man’s eyes.
"What are their names? Where are they?"
Samuel Summers answered immediately, "They both live in the Dragon Lake Villa Area. One is named Ian Young, a male. The other is Luna Dawson, a female."
The man’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. "Dragon Lake. Truly a place of exceptional people. Let’s go take a look."
Seeing this, Samuel Summers asked, "We’re going now?"
The man’s voice was deep. "Yes. Now."
The base was currently in a phase where it desperately needed people. He had to try and get every person who could improve the base to contribute to their fullest potential.
As night fell, two unfamiliar, modified military vehicles suddenly pulled up on the asphalt road outside the villa.
The car doors opened, and Francis Grant and Samuel Summers stepped out side-by-side.
Four young soldiers got out of the car behind them, each clutching a heavy supply crate. They followed the two men with steady steps.
Samuel Summers hurried forward, getting ahead of Francis Grant to ring the doorbell of the Dawsons’ villa.
In front of the security monitor, Miles Dawson saw the visitors’ attire and jumped three feet in the air. "Holy crap! It’s the military! They’re not here to abduct my sister and dissect her to study her superpower, are they?"
Hearing this, Aaron Palmer shot up from the sofa and hurried over to the monitor to check the situation.
Aaron Palmer’s brow furrowed. "Francis Grant? What’s he doing here?"
Seeing that he knew the man, Miles Dawson asked curiously, "Who’s Francis Grant? You know him?"
Aaron Palmer glanced around at everyone in the living room and explained, "He’s General Cameron Grant’s son. His rank is Colonel. If I’m not mistaken, his dad is part of Kensington Base’s high command. I saw him before when I was in the army."
He and Miles Dawson had specifically gone out to gather information today. They’d gotten friendly with a registrar named Harold Howard and managed to coax quite a few inside details about the base’s plans out of him.
He paused for a moment before adding, "Kensington Base covers a large area. The conservative plan for the future is to accommodate several million people. Right now, they’re still clearing out mutated plants and animals within the walls. The base will be divided into nine districts later, each with its own designated administrator."
’Someone from the base’s high command actually came in person!’
Once Mrs. Dawson heard Francis Grant’s identity, she quickly urged Miles, "Hurry up and open the door! Let them in. They might have something important to discuss."
Luna Dawson and the others were also quite surprised. They had assumed that if people from the base were to come, it would just be an ordinary soldier sent to inquire about their superpowers. They never expected a member of the high command to pay a personal visit.
Miles didn’t dare to delay. He ran to open the door and led Francis Grant’s group into the living room.
Everyone’s eyes fell on the newcomers in unison. Kevin Keane shot Francis Grant a glance but said nothing, silently sitting back down beside Luna Dawson.
Lynn Shelby and Blake Blue raised their eyebrows, their expressions nonchalant.
Only Evan Olson stood up first, proactively extending a hand. "Colonel Grant, long time no see."
Francis Grant reached out to shake it, a gentle smile on his lips. "Long time no see."
Afterward, he politely greeted everyone else in the living room one by one.
Seeing this, Wayne Dawson hurriedly had Rhonda Dawson and Luna Dawson pour water for the guests, warmly inviting them to sit.
Francis Grant was dressed in a crisp, dark green winter military uniform. The fabric was heavy, making his tall, straight figure seem even more imposing.
His epaulets gleamed with a subdued metallic luster under the living room’s cool light, and the sharp tailoring perfectly accentuated the strong lines of a soldier’s physique.
He was about thirty-two or thirty-three years old. His wheat-colored skin bore the marks of constant exposure to the wind and sun. His facial features were resolute and sharp, and when his brows furrowed slightly, he projected a calm authority without needing to be angry.
A high-bridged nose and well-defined lips added to the distinctly masculine aura unique to a soldier.
Wayne Dawson was the first to speak. "Colonel Grant, may I ask the purpose of your visit?"
Francis Grant discreetly sized up his surroundings and couldn’t help but feel a little impressed. ’It seems this family has been living quite well since the apocalypse.’
He smiled and said frankly, "I wanted to meet the dual-ability Superpower User and also to drop off some supplies." As he spoke, he gestured for the soldiers behind him to put down the crates.
Aaron Palmer and Miles Dawson, not ones to stand on ceremony, went over and lifted the lids. Inside, the crates were filled with compressed biscuits, grain, and salt.
Aaron Palmer pulled Miles back to the sofa behind Luna Dawson. "We wouldn’t dare just take these things, you know."
Francis Grant gave a helpless smile, his gaze turning to Luna Dawson. "You must be Miss Dawson, I presume?"
Luna noted his gentle and refined manner of speaking, which was quite a contrast to his resolute military appearance. She said, "That’s right, I’m Luna Dawson. Colonel Grant, please speak plainly."
"Alright. I’ve never been one to beat around the bush." Francis Grant’s smile vanished, his expression turning serious. "Ever since the torrential rains some time ago, water sources around the globe have been contaminated. Large numbers of mutated aquatic creatures have spawned in the water.
"With current technology, even after multiple filtrations, this water is not safe to drink. It’s still usable for daily cleaning, but with long-term consumption, the mutated organisms in the water will become parasites in the human body, drastically shortening one’s lifespan."
He sighed softly and continued, "At present, the military’s drinking water is either from unopened reserves from before the apocalypse or purified water generated daily by Water Ability Users. So, I came here today to invite Miss Dawson to provide a certain amount of purified water to the base’s sterile water plant each day. Of course, this won’t be without compensation; you will be rewarded accordingly. Please consider it carefully, Miss Dawson."
As she listened, Luna slowly picked a plump orange from the fruit basket and casually pushed the basket toward the coffee table in front of Francis Grant.
Her tone was relaxed. "Colonel Grant, guests are guests. Everyone, have an orange first. After you’ve had some, we can take our time discussing compensation."
Francis Grant’s brow twitched, a flash of hesitation in his eyes.
The apocalypse had been going on for over three months, with a global power outage. Ninety percent of the mutated crops were inedible, and fresh fruits and vegetables had long since become an extravagant hope.