Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse With My Military System

Graves was ushered by two armed guards down a sterile, white-walled corridor, flanked by dim overhead lighting. The walls bore scuff marks, hinting at past confrontations or rushed movements.

"Stop," one of the guards commanded, bringing Graves to a halt in front of a door leading to what seemed like an executive office.

The second guard rapped sharply on the door. A muffled voice from within granted them permission to enter.

"Enter," the guard relayed curtly to Graves.

Stepping inside, Graves immediately cataloged the situation. Ten men, all armed and donning the combat uniform of the Philippine Army, stood at ease around the room. Their stance might have seemed relaxed to a layman, but Graves noted the slight tension in their postures, the minute shifts in weight, and the vigilant positioning. These were seasoned soldiers, their instincts honed through rigorous training and combat.

Behind a no-nonsense desk sat the man Graves presumed was the "Boss". The man's intimidating physique was evident even seated, with broad shoulders and a thick neck, suggesting years of rigorous physical training. 

Not only that, there are two beautiful women next to him, caressing him here and there, and the Boss reveling in it. 

"So you are a newcomer huh?" The boss began in a gruff voice. "I didn't expect a foreigner…" 

The Boss would occasionally pause between his words as he would pull the lady close to him and plant kisses on their cheeks and necks. 

"Please don't mind me enjoying this moment with my women. As you can see, we were in the middle of something until one of my men told us that you had arrived." 

Graves responded calmly, "Not an issue for me." His eyes briefly met those of the two women. They seemed relaxed, hinting that their interactions with the Boss were consensual. 

"Your arrival is… unusual," the Boss continued, his words deliberate. His gaze locked onto Graves, attempting to pierce through the facade. "The camp is not known to many. Explain to me how you found this place."

"I followed a helicopter this way, believing it was a survivor camp," Graves answered concisely, exactly the same reason he gave to the armed guards earlier at the entrance.

A moment of silence ensued as the Boss assessed Graves' response. Around them, the armed men stood still as statues, their gaze fixed, their trigger fingers resting cautiously against their weapons. 

"And you said that you are an electrical engineer, isn't it?" 

"That's correct," Graves confirmed, sticking to his cover story. "I'm an expat." 

"So you are good in your line of work?" The Boss inquired. 

"Oh I'm very good at it," Graves replied confidently. Even though he was not a real electrical engineer, he couldn't risk giving them hints that he was anything but authentic.

"Mmm," the Boss mused, the heavy air thick with suspicion. The room was silent save for the low hum of an air conditioning unit. Every pair of eyes in the room was locked onto Graves, who maintained his composure under the intense scrutiny.

"Tell me, Mr?" 

"Jenkins, Graves Jenkins," Graves introduced himself.

"Mr. Jenkins, why should I trust you?" The Boss's question cut through the silence sharply. "You? An electrical engineer? With that physique?" 

Graves looked down on his body, and the Boss was right to doubt him. After all, he has an athletic build that isn't typical for someone in a technical profession. The long sleeves of Graves's polo clung tightly to his arm muscles, highlighting their pronounced definition.

Graves replied, "Well, staying in shape has been a personal choice for me.  Plus, the fieldwork I did required a certain level of physical fitness."

The Boss leaned back in his chair, processing the information. "Fieldwork, you say?"

"Yes," Graves answered, maintaining his poise, "Many times, as an electrical engineer in remote areas, I had to handle heavy equipment, climb up structures, and sometimes walk long distances when vehicles couldn't access certain areas."

The Boss looked skeptical but seemed to ponder Graves's explanation. "It makes some sense," he murmured, more to himself than to Graves. "Well, if you are an electrical engineer, then I assume you can fix one of our generators?" 

"Well, if I can get a close look at it, I might be able to, depending on the mechanical issues," Graves said. 

"Good, if you can then you will have a special spot here in this camp. You see, we can't rescue everybody. We only rescue those who have the skills. And once you have a special spot in this camp, you will enjoy special amenities." 

"Like what?"

"The pleasure of living without boundaries," the Boss's voice dropped to a sinister tone as he stood up. "Forget the world you once knew. Countries? Laws? They're illusions, shadows of a time long past."

He stepped closer to Graves, the icy edge of his gaze piercing into him. 

"In this fortress, the old morals, the ten commandments – they're dead and buried. Here, we live by two unyielding rules only."

"First, every soul here is free, unshackled by the societal norms of the old world. Every pleasure, every whim is yours to indulge." The dangerous glimmer in his eyes illuminated the savage freedom that defined existence within these walls.

"Second," his voice dropped, the room succumbing to an eerie silence before he continued. "Betrayal is met with death. No one leaves the camp. To attempt such is to betray us all. We have everything you need here, food, our scavenge from nearby convenience stores, malls, and supermarkets, weapons, women - as you can see." The Boss gestured loosely to the women beside him. 

"Electricity is provided by a generator powered by diesel, which we siphoned on cars near the camp. As for water, we collect it from rainwater and use a filtration system to purify it for drinking and other uses. It's a self-sustained ecosystem," the Boss concluded. 

"Of course, there is no such thing as free here. You have to work in order to gain something. Like in the old world. We take anything of value. Your vehicle, your skills, weapons, your woman if you have one…" 

"My woman?" Graves repeated. "That doesn't sound like women have freedom here."

"Well, in this camp, women can only be categorized into two things. One is that a skilled woman working in a specialized field has freedom, those who aren't anything of value in this apocalyptic world, well they serve as comfort women."

"So that's the system huh?" Graves said, finally understanding some of the inner workings of the camp. 

"Technically, you are not yet admitted, Mr. Jenkins. You'll have to prove yourself first by fixing our generators. If you do, you'll become a citizen here."