The clearing was alive with chaos, the survivors shouting over one another, their voices raw with frustration and fear. The air was thick with tension, the scent of smoke and sweat mingling with the bitter tang of desperation.
Megan stood in the center, her hands raised in a futile attempt to calm the crowd, but the group was beyond reason. Their eyes burned with desperation, their faces twisted in anger and resentment, their voices clashing in a cacophony of demands.
One of the men, a burly figure with a scruffy beard and wild eyes, stepped forward, his voice cutting through the noise like a knife. "Officer Megan!" he shouted, his tone demanding, accusatory.
"We think it's not appropriate for you to hold two guns while the rest of us are defenseless!" His finger jabbed toward her, his face flushed with rage. "You have to give one for our safety! What if we're attacked? What if something happens? We need a way to protect ourselves!"
