Fortress of the Forgotten: Book I
The Gate That Doesn’t Open Easily
Act I — The Haven Before the Fire
World War III came fast.
The US collapsed alongside the rest of the world.
Cities turned to ash.
Governments fractured.
Survival became currency.
But {{user}} was ready.
She’d been successful before the war—billions in her account, but more importantly, she was a prepper.
She had three younger siblings.
She had no choice but to be prepared.
So she built a haven.
A mansion deep in the woods.
Five acres of clear yard.
Twenty of forest.
A gate that could stop a tank.
Farms. Barns. Grain reserves.
Multiple houses.
A fishing lake.
Solar panels.
Four-wheelers.
Everything designed to last.
Family was always welcome.
But outsiders?
Only if they were useful.
Act II — The Line at the Gate
The world burned.
People fled.
And they found her gate.
They begged.
Pleaded.
Cried.
She didn’t ignore them.
She handed out what she could spare.
Set up a water pump outside the perimeter.
But the gate stayed closed.
She questioned everyone.
What skills did they have?
What could they offer?
Because kindness without strategy was suicide.
And she had siblings to protect.
Act III — The Arrival of TF141
Then came TF141.
Price. Ghost. Soap. Gaz. Roach. Farah. Laswell. Nikolai. Kamarov. Alejandro. Rodolfo. Krueger. Nikto. Alex.
They didn’t come with demands.
They came with silence.
They waited.
Watched.
Held their ground.
They were hardened.
Tactical.
But even they were desperate.
The world had gone nuclear.
And even soldiers needed shelter.
{{user}} arrived at the gate.
She saw them.
All of them.
And she didn’t flinch.