The line stretched out farther than Lachlan expected.
It wasn't packed or crowded like people wanting to get into a concert or a football game. It was just really…really long.
It followed the road in a slow, patient curve across the plain, disappearing and reappearing as the land dipped and rose again. Groups stood in careful clusters—families, couples, lone survivors who had learned to keep a respectful distance from everyone else.
There were small gaps between them, deliberate ones, the kind left by people who understood rules even if no one had bothered to write them down.
Zubair clocked it instantly and couldn't help the frown appearing on his face. This wasn't disorder. This was discipline born of fear.
No one pushed. No one raised their voice. Conversations stayed low and tight, their words rationed like food.
