George crept forward. Using the underbrush and shadows he maneuvered around searching for the source of the gunshots. The whippoorwill whistle called again. Not far off, and too his front right. George turned, lifted his pistol, and was surprised to spot the backs of four men in US Army uniforms creeping along ahead of him. There were bodies in the underbrush, the undead they were killing.

As he watched one the men in the back of their group pointed out a small knot of undead. The lead man nodded and raised a suppressed HK submachine gun and began firing with slow deliberate shot. It was over in moments, and three more undead fell.

As George watched, the men eased over and searched the undead. To his amazement it looked as if they were coomparing their faces to a picture.

George kept his pistol pointing down as he spoke. “Who you boys looking for? I might be able to help a bit.”

All four were startled.

"Guns down, guns down." The man in the back said to the others. They stood and carefully turned to face George. They looked to be soldiers alright. "Hello, sir, we are searching for a lost scientist. She is presumed dead."

He signaled to the others with a few hand gestures and they immediately turned to face about and keep watch. They were all armed with suppressed weapons; submachine guns, assault rifles, and a pistol.

"She was up here with a team of researchers that was trying to find a way to stop this plague. They went radio silent five days ago. We have been coming these woods searching for them since." He slowly raised his hand towards George, he held out a picture. "Would you mind taking a look at this photo?"

George couldn't help but chuckle at the hand gestures, he had seen them more times than he wanted to count. "Sure, I'll take a look. Where you boys out of?"

"Dan's out of Brag, a weapons sergeant from one of their ODAs." The man said with a nod as he handed George the photo. "Phil is from the Tennessee state patrol. We hooked up with him after that battle over in Apison, near Chattanooga, almost two months ago. And Luke over there is from first Rangers. I retired from the Marines about two years ago and was living in north Murray county with my wife. Call me Hank."

George nodded and looked down at the picture and was surprised to see the face of the young woman with the mule looking back up at him. He would have thought it odd, she looked so young, but it was a Center for Disease Control identification with her picture and the credentials for Dr. Emma Hanson, PhD. Microbiology (Organic Chemistry. It crossed his mind for a moment to wonder what that payed.

George looked at the picture for a moment. "I am retired Florida National Guard, well I was to be retired at the end of the year. Never got a call to go back to duty, so I chose to help locals around here instead." George wasn't sure how the soldiers would take that, but he didn't care, he was done being a soldier.

"Yeah I saw her a few hours ago, came through ere, had a mule with her. She muttered something about others needing her. She seemed a bit out of her mind also." George tries to notice what handguns they are carrying.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:23, Tue 10 Nov 2020.

"Good man." Hank said as he took the photo back. "On both counts."

Hank stood up and put the photo back into a protective case and pulled out a map case. On the map case George saw a name tape from when Hank had been active duty. There was a rank insignia for a colonel over a name tape that Hanson, Harold M. Beneath the name tape was the skull and five skulls insignia of the Marine Raiders.

He held out a map and used a blue grease pencil to point to a point on the map. It was there location.

"We're here." Hank said. "Can you show me where to go looking for the young woman you saw?"

"How's about this? I'll join you guys and we all go looking for her, though I suggest we wait until the morning. As we all know roaming at night with the walking dead is a bad idea, at night." George's offer was genuine. "I have a cabin up the way that has more than enough room for others, plus I have fresh food." George waited for an answer before marking the way she was going. If they insisted on going he'd mark it and where he would suspect she would be going.

"Ah, sure, thanks." Hank turned to the others and told them. "Come on guys, the gentleman here is offering a safe cot and a fresh hot. It'd be nice to eat fresh and sleep well for change."

The others nodded. He waved them into a march order and turned to George. "Lead on buddy, we got your back."

George takes a clicker out of his pocket and uses it, clicking a rapid set of clicks to summon his horse. Once his horse appears he grabs the reins and walks in front of it. "Follow me. It is normally quiet, and safe, around here. Had some bandits kill some friends of mine, they have been put down, along with the bandits."

Continuing to walk. "So Colonel, what does the government have left, or is it completely fractured and each base trying to control things?"

"Dan, care to give the man the run down on the American political scene these days?" Hank asked the man behind him.

"Sure." Dan said in a gruff tone. "The government dissolved thirty eight days ago. The last organized military action took place twenty nine days ago. The last coordinated defensive action by anyone took place twenty two days ago. Out last radio contact with the lost CDC control team was nine days ago. And, our last contact with the research team we are looking for was four days ago. Did I miss anything?"

"Yeah, every government on earth is gone as of twenty four days ago." Luke chimed in.

"So who are you working for then, and where out of? Sounds like you're at least a bit organized, so you have a command structure and a goal, which is the Doc, right?" George asked as he continued the trek to his cabin.

"It's strictly amateur hour. A handful of us killer types, some good heated bible thumpers that keep us all sane and feed, the Docs like my daughter who're still trying to figure this shit our, a handful of helpful tradesmen on the wrong side of fifty, and several old-school end of the world survivalist types." Hank said. It was an immediate response, well stated. Almost a rehearsed speech.

Hank eased up a little closer and continued, "We are camped out about ten miles east of here. A nice little place, open fields with open sight lines for nearly a mile in all directions. We dug in deep, threw up a rain fly, some tarps, erected a chimney so we could cook, treat water, boil bandages, and so on. It was going well until four days ago."

More of that speaking to the new class vibe. George was beginning to feel like it was a recruitment drive to get more soldiers to volunteer for the new war. It crossed George's mind to wonder if the man could bring himself to admit the new war already over. The living lost.

"Colonel, there are way better places than a set up in the middle of nowhere and no good structures to live in. Hell, you can head to Jackson, Benning or Bragg. Do it smart and send in a group to sweep through and clear the zombies and you'd have access to a hospital, or more." George was a realist and living under tarps would suck ass majorly.

The men behind George came to a stop. He stopped as well and looked back anticipating trouble. Instead they were all just looking at him. After a long, uncomfortable moment of silence Hank finally spoke, "Brother, those places are gone. Home the dead now. I'm sorry to have to tell you that."

The others just nodded.

George shrugged. "I suspected as much, though I've been thinking on that. Let's keep moving though, it'll be getting dark soon, and even though I know where I am, and going to, there can be surprises anywhere." As George started moving again. "What is gone can be retaken, and my idea on that is rather unconventional, though it could work. I'll explain when we get to my cabin. It's about another 30 minutes on foot. If you see any big orange X's anywhere, don't approach there. It's pit traps I set for walkers. I don't think you want to get impaled on the makeshift punji sticks in the pit."

The trek back to his little homestead was uneventful. Though they did see signs, a lot tracks and broken foliage, of the passage of a considerable number of the undead. Once they made it back to his homestead George was relieved but the things had stumbled through his garden making a shambles of his cucumbers and squash.

A quick search showed the place to be safe. Once they were inside they relaxed enough to talk.

"Nice little place." Hank said. "To bad about your friends. We know your loss. A stupid thing to say these days. We have all lost so much."

"Thanks, none of this is easy and I try to not dwell on it. Well shit, lost some vegetables. I really need to get my fence up around it." George surveyed the damage, while more than he would like, it was nothing that would set him back at all. He could turn the trampled vegetables into seeds for the next crop and he still had more than enough for himself. "Let me go into the cabin first." George opened the main cabin door and leaned in once the door was opened and seemed to do something. Seeing his 2 dogs he smiled, they were happy to see him and he happy to see them. Once the trap was disarmed they came over, as they knew what could happen if they came too close. "Ok, it's alright to come in. Don't go in any other door, they are all similarly trapped. Make yourselves comfortable, I have to put my horse up." George walked over to his small barn where he kept his horse. Hearing noises he was quite used to he smiled, the 4 goats and 4 sheep he had were annoying as hell, yet they were trained rather well. They had a bolt hole in case any walkers got inside, so he knew they were fine.



Opening the barn he led his horse in and put her in her stable, making sure they all had water and food. He really needed to scrounge some wood and get a secondary fence built, it was really surprising how effective a simple fence was at keeping walkers away.

George then walked into his cabin. "Well I have a treat for you, hit the light switch." When George had his little home away from home built he had solar installed on the roof of both the cabin and barn, so he had power and now that was a godsend. He also had a generator backup and batteries that could keep him going for a while, if need be. For the moment though, George only uses about a quarter of the lights possible in the cabin, at most, as light-bulbs will eventually be hard to come by.

"This is a great place, George." One of them said from behind him.

There was a chorus of 'yeah', 'awesome', and 'amazing' that followed.

"We'll be up out early, but this will be a real treat for us George." Hank said. "Thanks for the hospitality."

George smiles, as he puts his things down, though keeps his pistol on himself. "There's a shower through that door. I do have hot water, and if you want to use it, go ahead. If you use the white soap in the closet, it is unscented and I made it a few months ago. There are towels in there also. I'd prefer if you use the same towel." George goes over to his bloodhound and scratches him a bit, then puts a leash on him. "I'm going to put Blu out in the barn. If you hear him barking, we get to kill Zombies. Hit the switch on the left side of the main door, it'll light everything up outside, though it drains the batteries pretty fast, I can leave them on for 15 minutes safely." With that George heads outside and puts Blu in the barn and comes back a few minutes later.

When George returned the men had turned into the most highly polished home-skills unit he had ever seen. Hank was in the shower, washing his body and his clothing, in the rapid fashion only someone accustomed to extremely limited hot water could. The other two had their gear changed out, their dirty belongings ready to shower with them, and seemed to posses their own soap and towels.

There was an improvised line hung near the fireplace and a small fire had been started. It would help with drying their gear without generating too much heat in the cabin. One of them, George couldn't think of his name of the top of his head, was cleaning a cut on his forearm with iodine and a toothbrush.

George winced. He was probably the Ranger. Those guys were so macho they would clean shrapnel from wounds with hacksaw blades. George cringed wondering if there was anything in the wound that actually needed to be properly removed. Well, at least he wasn't getting the mess all over George's floor.

George laughed. "It'll be about an hour or so for food. Hope you like mutton stew, had to put down one of my older sheep and well I couldn't waste any of it." As George heads to the kitchen and by passes the modern stove he has and starts up the wood stove. Getting going on the stove George headed back into the main room. "If you need to charge anything, feel free. You have access to things right now that will become harder and harder to come by. Enjoy it while you can."<green> George takes a seat in front of the fireplace and Jinx laid down in front of the fire. <Green>"I'll admit I do missing watching TV and other niceties, but what can you do? In the morning, head back out the way you came, I'll be up before sunrise, checking my pits for any walkers that need to be dispatched. Then work on getting a fence up around my garden. I have the posts and wire, it's just backbreaking work and time consuming."

Motioning to the Colonel. "Let's see that map of yours, so we can figure out where your daughter went off to."

That cop, oh what was his name? Anyway he had pulled out a slim laptop and plugged it in. As it charged up enough to run he busted out instant coffee and some honest to goodness orange-macadamia scones. By the time he had coffee ready and the laptop fired everyone was showered and gathered around the little table in George's kitchen.

Coffee and scones made a good appetizer for the beans and bacon that would be contributed to dinner. They felt obligated to repay George's hospitality. He was sure that the pair of cans must have weighed five pounds, and probably had something to do with the dinner selection. They ate and enjoyed Lawrence Kasdin's Silverado. It was a good western with an all-star cast. They all marveled at how young Kevin Costner was. As how smooth Scott Glenn portrayed a true left-handed gunfighter. And Rosanna Arquette's young beauty.

It was a good night. George settled down in his bed, good and tired, and was asleep in no time. He dreamed of fishing, that busty blond who tended bar at the Midnight Star in Silverado, and of screaming men...what?

George's eyes popped open. Closed, opened again. He blinked rapidly trying to force reality into his thoughts. Sitting up in bed, George was unaware of grabbing his pistol as he tried to understand what was happening.

"Shoot him! Just fucking shoot him!" Hank was yelling. There was a trio of shots.

George quickly made his way into the heart of cabin to find a half naked corpse covered in tattoos. Most notable of them was Airborne and Ranger tabs over a 2nd Ranger Battalion scroll on the undead man's right upper arm.

The cop. The one who had the coffee and old movies on a laptop. He was laid out in a sleeping bag on the floor. His throat was simple gone. So was a large portion of his torso along the collarbones. George blanched. Then he remembered the wounds the man had been cleaning out.

"It must have been too late. He waited too long to clean the wounds." Hank was saying. He walked over and used a knife to ensure that his companions where well and truly dead. "Infection must have set in, killed him in his sleep."

"Fucking hell, this is a shit show. Clean up the mess." Turning to his Shepherd. "Jinx, seek." With that Jinx would, normally, spring into action, looking for any walkers that may be near. Once he found any he would make a whimpering noise in the direction of any of them, though not get close to them, and George would, usually, dispatch them. With the gunshots he was sure there would be a few showing up. Grabbing his MPX, he also put on a tactical vest he had, taking a silencer from a pocket he screwed it into place and then followed behind Jinx. "Colonel, don't dump the bodies yet, let me make sure all is clear first. I have a spot for dead walkers." And with that George headed out the door behind Jinx, ready for whatever awaited him.

A quick but thorough check of the area revealed that the area was clear of any undead threat. Relieved, George headed back inside. The bodies were already wrapped in their ponchos when George returned.

Hank began praying over the dead men, drawing George's attention. He standing over to the side of the bodies, holding a bible, and wearing a priest's collar. Then it dawned on George. Hank caught his stare and said what George was thinking.

"I was a real hard charger, started a young Lieutenant of Infantry, moved on to running Scout/Snipers, made Captain and snagged an assignment to Force Recon. " Hank closed his bible and slid it into a protective cover as spoke. "After an unplanned trip to the hospital courtesy of a trio of bullets I ended up training Marine Raiders for bit. Then nine-eleven came along. We raiders we busy in those early days. In oh-nine I had a change of heart, took up the bible again, re-classed after I got my Seminary degree, and got promoted to light Colonel."

He walked past the other man to his gear and took out a map, "So, this little route you showed me where you saw my girl, could an experienced man make it at night?"