"We owe you a lot for what you've done for us," Marlon said quietly.
He stood beside Margaret near the edge of the Boardwalk, far enough from the busiest streets that they could speak without needing to raise their voices. From there, he could see the people of both communities gathered around the food Margaret's group had brought.
Some sat on crates, broken chairs, or pieces of barricade wood. Others stood with bowls or plates in their hands, too tired to bother finding somewhere comfortable. Margaret's people moved among them, passing out food, checking on injured survivors, and helping wherever they could.
Marlon's people looked exhausted.
Their clothes were dirty from fighting, clearing bodies, and rebuilding the barricades. Some had blood on their sleeves that did not belong to them. Others stared down at their food without eating much, their minds still caught on the people who had not made it to the Emerald Hotel.
They had survived.
But survival had come with a cost.
