With John' guidance Roberta navigated a series of twisting, turning state highways, county roads, and country back roads until the little convoy of vehicles emerged in a small town on a low mountain. The day was fading away fast and the kids had been bugging her to pull over so they could use the restroom and stretch their legs for over an hour.

After all the months it was still a shock to realize that all the driving around hordes, road blocks, accidents, and suspected traps took hours to cover what normally would take an hour to drive. The little town was named Henagar, Alabama and to call it small was being generous. Just off of state route 40, they pulled into the Mapco. It was next door to Bama Boys BBQ and across the road from Swifty's service station.

There wasn't much in the way of signs of previous activity. The state route was a two lane highway that was pretty free of stopped cars or roadblocks. The stores and shops were all boarded over. There wasn't bodies everywhere rotting away and the air was clear. The only sign of any official action here was a single poster hanging on the front of the Mapco that read:
      Official Ordnance #112
    Mayor Robert Sheppard orders all
   residents to clear out of the town
    immediately and proceed to the
   FEMA refugee center located in Trenton
    Georgia. The US Army will provide
   security and medical assistance there.
     Thank you, we will organize to leave
   from the high school parking lot Saturday
   morning at 10AM, please be ready by noon.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 14:49, Wed 16 June 2021.

"Rod," Roberta said over the radio, "we'll hole up here for the night.  If everyone evacuated this far off the beaten trail, there probably aren't that many infected around.

"I'll get our crank pump working to refill the tanks while you take some people to look around.  Find us somewhere to spend the night."

"Got it." Rod replied over the radio. He sees who wants to come with to find a secure location. Worse comes to worse they find a spot with just a few of the shamblers and take them out quietly.

As Roberta instructed several people, and her kids, on how to safely use the pump to get at the fuel in the underground storage tanks Rod was leading two others on a recon of the nearby buildings.

He was surprised. The town was neat and orderly. They found another type of flyer scattered about. They noticed some of these on top of cars, houses, phone booths, etc. making him think that they were airdropped like Roy's flyers. They were simple.

US Dept of Emergency Management
Order #102120C, Biological Hazard

All residents are ordered to proceed southwest to
Fort Payne, Alabama to be met and medically inspected
by US Army personnel. Anyone who refuses, resists, or
resorts to violence will be considered an enemy combatant
and be dealt through the use of violent force. Please
comply with the instructions given by US Army personnel
promptly and specifically. Thank you.

Other than that there seemed to be little in the small town from outside. There were fresh graves from the evacuation. So, they had encountered some undead at least. He hoped that it wasn't bad. At the Bama Boys BBQ they made a startling discovery; the place was still stocked. Someone had left the solar panels engaged to power up the array that kept the building in electricity. While the lights were off, the coolers and freezers were not. Looking at on of the others men as they strode through the place it occurred to Rod to knock the rest of the boards off the windows, post guards, and set up for the night. And go check the tank out back for natural gas for the grills and griddles.

"I got something for you guys. Route is forthcoming." Rod radioed. He disliked advertising over the radio their location, but he did not have a code with Roberta. Its not like they could text anymore. In any case, maybe they could get some good food from the grill.

"Roger that," Roberta replied to Rod over the Subaru radio.  She'd been nearby when he'd called and jogged over to answer.  "We're almost done here except for your truck.  Bring it on back for a refill and we'll close up shop."

One of the other things she wanted to make sure they refilled were their water jugs.  If they could find some more, that would be good as well.  They had more people now and anything they could find to get them all equipped and ready for a cruise would be good to have.

She wondered if there were a stockpile of Hawaiian shirts around...

Night was coming on quick. The wind was picking up too. There would be a storm tonight. The people who had been traveling with her husband all began unpacking plastic ponchos, raincoats, and sheets of plastic. There was a sense of the familiar about their actions. At the last moment she caught a glimpse of a gieger counter. That made Roberta's eyebrows dance in curiosity.

"It's for fallout." Her husband said from behind her. "A precaution we still do with the rains. It hasn't been a real risk lately, but there have been moments."

Rod was just checking out the electrical array in the BBQ shack when it occurred to him to be a little more thorough. Events of late had been really dicey at times. Looking under the counters, behind the doors, in the closets, the roof access, he even checked the exterior for hidden entrances. Then he found the note on the order rack.

It was simple.
  Daniel,
    Your father and I are headed to Mentone to retrieve your sister and your nephew. We left the store running so you and Pam could eat when you got here. Don't go with the Army. your dad thinks its a hoax. Pam's parents are going to Bridgeport to get her sister. Make Pam eat a lot, the baby will need it.
   Love,
    Mom.

"I'd been thinking of finding a geiger counter when I was planning on heading back to Boston," Roberta admitted to her husband, "but when I saw you in one of the photo's, I forgot all about it.

"I hadn't even thought of radioactive rain."

She helped with covering up the pickup beds and made sure the windows were up in the Subaru.  She kept looking up at their perimeter for movement.  She didn't want to get caught out again as they had at the plane.

"So how bad is it from here to the ship?" she asked.  It was nice to have someone familiar with the route.  Nicer when it was the husband you thought you'd lost.  He'd pulled off a miracle to get the kids all the way down to the ship in the first place.

In reply to GM (msg # 7):

When Rod heard about the radioactive fallout, he was angry. Which he usually got when something scared the crap out of him. An invisible enemy that could kill just because you breathed in air was very unfair. He had a chance against the dead, the living, and basic survival. Now the military had screwed things up for the survivors so badly that death for anyone staying in the USA was inevitable.

For now he helped set up the plastic tarps, and looked into finding gas masks for the others. Granted he had little knowledge if that would be enough. As not having a full hazmat body suit would be dangerous.

"The southeast has on of highest rural population densities in the nation. Small town after small town." Her husband began. "Add to it the whole southern 'take care of own' mentality and you end up with a lot little communities that banded together instead of evacuating. Most got overrun by the undead. They simply didn't understand what they were facing until it was too late. So, now you have what amounts to a landscape similar to a minefield; set foot in the wrong place and you could end up dead."

"Or worse." A tall woman added. "Your husband was the first recognize the signs to watch out for. Local signs talking about organizing at the church, or the school, on farm, etc. Undead wondering around kitted out like militia members. Local defenses like car barricades, improvised walls, and the like. And the most important, gardens and crops."

"We had to walk through several areas where the nukes had been used." He husband went on. "But, the worst is the undead that have been exposed to radiation. Most of them can't see very well; the radiation does something to their eyes. But it also does something to their minds. Makes them more aggressive and more, I don't know, more clever or something. They are better hunters."

"Tomorrow we'll keep an eye out for the signs and head for the ship," Roberta said.  She wasn't thrilled about gun toting militia folks out there, but it sounded a lot like what they ran into at Soddy Daisy.

"For now, let's get something to eat, set up a watch, and get some rest."

"Should I go out and scout, then radio back what I find?" Rod suggested. He was not keen on all these family people dying because the single people like himself where too chickenshit. He would go, he had nothing to lose.

"Not tonight," Roberta replied to Rod.  "In the morning, we'll let you get a little ahead of us to let us know what we're in for.'

The night was peaceful, save for the storm that rolled in just before everyone began bedding down for the night. The guard shifts were dreary, and a little nerve wracking with the lighting creating shadows in every nook or cranny. But, morning arrived. And with came coffee, tinned meat, and green beans. At least someone was trying to create a nutritious meal.

The last watch had rustled up breakfast and coffee. The military radio was on a table, though all that could be heard was static. People woke up, stretched, woke up children, and went outside to relieve themselves. All seemed normal, if quiet. Well, at least they didn't wake up to the smell of death and decay.

Suddenly the radio squawked and a voice could be heard clearly for a few moments, "that's a negative, there is no way this truck is getting over that bridge. It's just to jammed up with abandoned vehicles."

Then there was a long squelch of static before the radio went silent again.

"Could they be talking about a bridge we need to cross?" Roberta asked her husband.  They were close enough to pick up a signal, but far away from the other side of the conversation that they couldn't hear it.

"If they are on our way, it might not be a bad idea to contact them to get the lay of the land."

"Maybe I should scout ahead for another way around..." Rod suggested. There could not be so many chasms to cut off all access. Of course, there could be some other problems blocking their convoy.

"We don't even know that it's on our route or how big their truck was," Roberta pointed out.

"On the map there's not any bridges close to us." A young man said. "Not any that are really big anyway. Everything on the map for about twenty miles is either just an overpass or has alternative routes really close by. I don't understand where they are."

"That radio is an Army issue PRC one-nineteen. It's what they issue at platoon level." An older man said. He had a prosthetic below his left knee. "I was a platoon sergeant in the Army until I was in an accident. A vehicle accident. Cost me my lower leg. Anyway, that radio is only good for about twenty kilometers around twelve miles or so in the mountains and low hills of this region. Line of sight, you see. But, it can pick up higher broadcast strength signals from further out. My guess, that is a National Guard vehicle, there were a lot them deployed, and someone else is using it now. But, it has to be pretty close."

"Can you try to contact them?" A woman said. Roberta and Rod were rapidly realizing that they didn't know anyone here. Not their names, what they knowledge they possessed, why they were even here. "Maybe get them to help guide us to them. If they are moving south to the ship then we could help each other."

"Or, they could be sending out signals on this frequency hoping to be overheard by others with similar equipment to lure them into a trap." The older man said. It was obvious he didn't like bringing the subject up.

"Wait, what, who would do that? Why would anyone do that?" Another man said. He was wearing a t-shirt that said 'Senior Staff Advisor - Pine Hills Baptist Youth Retreat'. "This is America, we don't that kind of thing here."

In reply to GM (msg # 18):

"Don't kid yourself. We always did that kind of thing. Now it's just more obvious." Rod pointed out to the naïve camper. "It sounds like I should go and check it out 1st. I need one other person to go with me, so they can wait in the car from a hidden spot while I go check it out on foot." 

"If they're not on our way and they're already stuck," Roberta pointed out, "they're no help to us.

"We don't need to go looking for trouble.  We each probably have a better chance on our own than we do trying to find them."

They knew where they were going, but going off book to find another group was putting more lives in jeopardy.  Putting her kid's lives in jeopardy.

"I agree with the woman." The former soldier said. He offered his hand to them. "Sorry, the name is Howard Morgan. You can call me Hal."

"Look if those people are in trouble." The holy roller began. Then he realized everyone was looking at him. "Oh, sorry, I'm Reverend Albert Larson. Nice to meet you. This is Susan Baker, and Mark Oswald. We are from the farm up in Tennessee."

The named pair nodded and shook hands. A skinny teen stepped forward. He was the boy who had the idea of blowing the plane up. He looked at Mildred, then at Hal.

"We don't know that they are in trouble. They just can't get their truck across a bridge crowded with cars they have been abandoned for months." The boy said. "No one said they needed help. Besides, if they have military gear they probably don't need our help."

In reply to GM (msg # 21):

Rod shrugged, not really wanting to go to bat for someone he did not even know. The kid was most likely right. Chances are they where looking for another route. "Well, at least we can mark on the map where this bridge is..."

"I think we should head a little further west, then cut back to the south again." Roberta's husbands words from behind her drew her attention to a small table and large map of Alabama. "South of here is a town known as Fort Payne. We had trouble there and had to double back to the north, just before we met up with you actually. Oddly, it is the hometown of the country band Alabama. Kind of sad really."

"Avoiding Fort Payne sounds good," Roberta agreed.  They didn't need to go through a known problem spot.

"We'll monitor the radio and see if we hear anything else from the bridge group while we're on the road.  If things change and they need some help, we'll see what we can do to direct them, but I don't think we should try to link up with them.

"We can put them on a path to the ship if they run into problems, but I don't think we should risk trying to join up with them."

Rod nodded, agreeing with Roberta's statement. Sadly, you could not trust strangers right off that bat. These days that was more clear than any other time...

"Sounds like a plan missie, a good one to." AN older man said. "I'll start packing up our things. We best get moving before the rain sets in again."

Spirits fell. More rain. Bad weather, cannibal corpses, and a dubious salvation. It was beginning to feel like another one of those days.

"I got them on the radio again." Someone called from outside.

Everyone hustled out to the building's porch where the radio had been set up to listen in, "..roger, that Paul." static crackled loudly, "over there by the overpass. Milo confirmed, it's a fuel tanker. Said it was.." the conversation faded out for nearly a minute before they heard, "run! run! Paul get them rolling, I'll meet you later. It those same mothe.." people sucked in their breath, groaned in shock, the background noise to the broadcast had been gunfire. A lot of gunfire.

"We need to get moving," Roberta said resolutely.  "If they're in the direction we're heading, we'll hear them soon enough and see if there's anything we can do.

"If we don't find them, we keep an eye out for ambushes.  It sounds like there might be folks out there waiting for people like us to drive by looking to go to the ship.

"Hopefully, we'll be able to slip through, but we need to get going and keep our eyes open.  Stay quiet on the radio unless you see something.  They're probably listening for people coming in.

"Anyone have training on what to do if we run into a road block like they did?" she asked, looking around.  She wasn't a tactician, but they needed a plan if they did run into trouble.

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 27):

"The only way to stop an ambush you have no idea when its coming, is to do something unexpected. We don't have air cover anymore, but if we had a scout on a motorcycle who could drive ahead, that way only one person would be at risk and if you don't hear from them you know something is wrong." Rod pointed out. "I could do that." He quickly adds, lest anyone else thinks they should volunteer.

Roberta didn't like the idea of Rod out up ahead alone without a car around him.

"I don't like the idea of the motorcycle, but a scout sounds good," she agreed.  "But I still don't want to use the radio and let them know that we're out here and what we're doing."

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 29):

"How about a code then? Its what the army does when they are being listened into." He offered.

"What kind of code?" Roberta asked.  "I think if we say anything, they'll know someone's around, even if they don't understand what we're saying."

"I think I know where they are." A woman said looking over a map. "With that line of sight thing because of the mountains interfering with the radio there are only two real bridges around. Both are near that town, Fort Payne, and both are along highway 59, they are overpasses. He said the roads were cluttered before."

"Yeah," one of the men from the survivors of the Walmart Crew said. "we had to do all kinds of work-arounds because the roads are hosed with abandoned cars near there. We ended heading back north because was too dangerous."

"In reality, anybody with a little sense will be on the lookout for a target to ambush." The old soldier started talking. "They will watch a likely approach and simply wait. The radio won't matter, but a scout vehicle is as easy a target as any other. Best to be prepared for trouble, we get hit we have a plan. It we can't go forward we fight back immediately. If we are stile mobile we run like hell away."

"I like that plan," Roberta agreed with the veteran.  "But I'd still like to avoid using the radio.  If we aren't on their ambush path, they might come looking for us if they hear us on the radio.

"Let's get going."

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 33):

Rod shrugs, but nods in the affrimative. Truth be told he had few other ideas himself. A future ambush with no details could be anything. The best they could do was just deal with it best they could.

"Everything is loaded. After breakfast we thought we would forage for some more fuel and water." A man said from just out of sight. He was standing just outside the door and talked loudly. "Any idea an how long before we are heading south?"

"Now," Roberta replied to the man.  "We're all topped off for fuel and we're only a few days out from the boat.

"Grab some stuff from the freezer here and we'll have it for dinner or as long as it will last in a cooler, but we're leaving in ten minutes."

Outside there was a loud whistle that immediately followed by "ten minutes! ten minutes, everyone."

Roberta shrugged. Rod was watching as several people plopped bagged ice and frozen food into several coolers. They were those Styrofoam boxes sold at most gas stations. The one marked $19.99 but had a real value of $1.99 and a life expectancy of one trip to the nearest lake or beach.

Then he noticed something odd. The box freezer holding the bagged ice seemed to rock in a catty-corner fashion. But, it was actually the floor. Then it hit him, it was a trap-door set in the floor an concealed under the cooler.

In reply to GM (msg # 37):

Rod moved to the trap door, his pistol ready. He moved off to the side of it, so if anything pops out he would have the drop on it. Then he would try to open it with his foot, seeing the hidden hinges and stomping on it at just the right angle. Thus making the door open and his gun trained on whatever was down there.

ooc-19:40, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 11 using 3d4+2.  Using foot to open trap door.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:42, Tue 06 July 2021.

With several people watching, Rod opened the trap door. He was utterly surprised by what he saw below.

Peering into the opening with disbelief Rod saw an alcove around ten feet down. A wooden ladder made from 2 x 4 boards affixed to the wall led into what looked like a movie set for one of the cheesy post-apocalypse movies. There was a recliner with a playmate cooler on one side and a small garbage can half filled with empty beer bottles on the other. The recliner seemed to be the center of the room.

Kneeling down to take in the full room, Rod saw that there were bookshelves along the walls hold everything from survival guides, technical manuals, novels, how-to books, and magazines regarding everything from fishing to nude women.  There were several racks built onto the wall holding various hunting rifles, shotguns, pistols, and fishing poles. Where there weren't racks or shelves there were posters of cars, movies, firearms, centerfolds, outdoor destinations, and stereos.

A large table at one end of the room held a television, facing the recliner, with a DVD player stacked on top. Movies in heaps, ranging from 80s action hits to the latest fantasy movies released prior to the rising of the dead, were stacked to either side of the television. To the right of the television was a multi-stage reloading press that surrounded by cans of gunpowder, boxes of bullets, and buckets of various spent cartridges. On the other side of the television was a stereo with dual cassette player, multi-disc CD player, stereo tuner, amplifier, and turn-table. A pair of too-large-for-this-room speakers and stacks of mix-tapes and CDs surrounded the system.

There were footlockers marked clothing, ammo and stuff, dry goods, tools, and porn. Stacked in one corner were several cases of Miller High Life beer in 12 ounce bottles. The champagne of beers, as Rod recalled. In an opposite corner was a mini-fridge.

In reply to GM (msg # 39):

"I changed my mind about the boat. I am staying right here...forever." He grinned back at the others, nodding his head towards the TV and the beer. However, he does whisper it just in case the owner of said videos and alcohol shows and is violently upset by the intrusion.

"Whatever it is," Roberta said to Rod without seeing what he'd found, "you better have it loaded in the next 5 minutes or we're leaving without you."

She proceeded to herd people toward the vehicles while keeping track of where her two teens were at all times.  It's when you let your guard down that the worst happenes.

In reply to GM (msg # 39):

Rod takes the books on survival and technical Info. That would help in rebuilding society. He was tempted...so tempted...take the DVDs and tv. However, electricity was rare resource and not to be wasted.

That being said, he did take two 12 packs of beer. He left a note explaining what he took, and left the vast majority of the treasure trove. He took one long last look back, sighed loudly, and headed for the truck.

Troy was just getting situated behind the wheel of his truck when he overheard a woman in the back talking loudly, and with much exasperation, to her husband.

"Honestly, Howard, a television and DVD player." It wasn't a question. "The world has come an end and you take time out to watch DVDs, ooh, Lassiter. I love Tom Selleck. We can watch that one first."

A check in the mirror showed Rod that the man had put all the movies in a cardboard box. The others were readied and begging to roll out behind Roberta in the Subaru. Everyone looked well; rested, fed, and content for the moment. His thoughts turned back to the ship.

Roberta had merely shook her head when she saw Harold load the television and DVD player. Her husband noticed as well. He shrugged and smiled.

"So, head south along this road for a while, we should be at a dirt road, county road 304 in about half an hour." He told her as he pulled up the map with their rather zig-zag route. "From their its gonna be a few slow hours due south. Done this before, with the old group, and its slow going."

Roberta pulled out to follow the path laid out on the others' return trip.  Hopefully, nothing will have changed and they'd not run into trouble.

She started off in the lead, but figured Rod might pass them if he wanted to scout ahead a bit.  They'd all seen the route the previous night when they'd laid it all out.

Rod chuckled as he saw the man loot the DVDs. At the very least they could be coasters he supposed. Rod stayed close to Roberta's Subaru, but made sure to be in a good postion in case anything went wrong.

The trip was going well. Dodging the undead hadn't been to perplexing. There hadn't been any unexpected attacks on their little convoy. And most gratifying was the finding of a small community in 'the sticks' as her husband replied. It was a small cooperative farming community. It spoke volumes to how rural the state had still been when the dead began to rise.

It was deserted now. Posters, signs, and flyers left by FEMA in the first month had warned everyone to flee to Huntsville. Her husband spat in disgust. Huntsville, he had explained, was a nightmare, deathtrap, and vacation spot in hell all in one. There were six houses. Seven barns further out along the edges of fields that hadn't been seen to in years.

There was even a post office and a small mom-m-pops' store with a single gas pump. There wasn't a name on the store, just a mailbox with the name Jennings and 17065 County Road 304 on it.

In a field, maybe two hundred yards away a small group of undead began shuffling through the overgrown field towards their vehicles.

"They would have been better off just staying here," Roberta said as they watched thr group shuffling through the field.  "But no one knew any better back in the beginning.  It all happened so fast and in slow motion at the same time."

She shook herself out of her reverie and looked at the gas gauge.  "How far are we from a good place to stop for gas?"

She'd almost asked for a safe place, but nowhere was really safe anymore.

Whoever was riding in Rod's truck he handed the map to. He needed to keep his eyes on the road. "Any gas nearby?" He asked as he drove.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:59, Wed 14 July 2021.

"There is a town seven miles west. Take the next right. That should be county road 313." A man said. He was searching the map for likely places to stop for fuel.

Rod relays that info to Roberta. He really wished they had arrived on some sort of code over the radio, but that had not seemed to have taken off.

Roberta's head sagged when she heard Rod's voice over the radio.  He really wasn't that good at remembering things.  Radio Silence had just gone right over his head and he didn't have the reflexes to catch it.

"Now we have to use this station," Roberta said to her husband without reaching for the radio handset.  Giving it some gas she pulled into the station.  "Anyone listening knows exactly where we'd be headed.

"I'll help the kids with the pump," she said to John.  "You get some of your guys to put up a perimeter and let us know when we have to leave."

The Texaco Station was old. The sign read Virgil's Gas, Beer, and Tackle. It was a well placed station. Just off of the county road, two side roads that were clear, and a Kentucky Fried Chicken across the street. Down the street was Bethel Baptist Church. There were a lot of cars circling the church, most of them had dust-coated windows. They passed Town Pawn and Gun on the way into town. From the station they could see fourteen houses, the local post office, and one of those coin operated ice dispensers.

People with rifles and shotguns filtered out around the station as a couple of others opened up a pump to connect a generator. It took a few minutes then the pump fired. It made a noise like a lawn mower without all the exhaust. Roberta quickly began filling the Subaru's tank. She had just began filling a jerrycan when the first warning came.

"Down the street." A woman called to them just loud enough to be heard over the pump. Her pump shotgun was pointed at the baptist church, "The doors! There is dead inside. Look!"

As if on queue the double doors at the main entrance suddenly bulged out with only a chain holding them in place. Arms jutted forth grasping at the air. The doors creaked and cracked with the strain. They couldn't really hear the usual moans, yet, but the smell had been picked up by the breeze. Heads turned, eyes watered, stomachs roiled, and and curses were uttered.

"Just concentrate on your own job," Roberta said to her kids.  "Keep your eyes open, but let the others take care of any stragglers and have a plan to get loaded up and back into the car as fast as we can."

She'd really wished they'd used the crank pump, but the generator was faster,

In reply to GM (msg # 52):

"I got them. You guys keep pumping gas." Rod said to the others. He gets the truck ready, driving it into position. If he can, he will drive in reverse and pin the door closed with the back end of the vehicle. The door holding the dead inside would be much harder to breach with the multi-ton truck supporting it.

OOC:
11:04, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 8 using 3d4+2.  re-roll via specialization.

11:04, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 7 using 3d4+2.  Specialization: driving.

It was gory. Rod backed into the door, forcing them closed, and severing a half dozen arms from their undead owners. The doors held, but there was a crashing noise from inside. Then it happened. The church was a sturdy building of wood and stone, but it had been involved in a few too many altercations in recent months. When Rod used the truck to force the doors closed the whole structure had shifted subtly towards the rear of the building.

Then a roof support gave way.

Along the wall to Rod's left at the far end of the structure a gap opened up in the roof as part of the roof fell inward. A beam, easily eight inches square, slammed through the masonry forcing a large cavity to form in the corner. After several heartbeats a pair of hands stretched into the sunlight.

Roberta tried to gauge how much time they'd have it a horde started pouring out of the church toward them.  She wanted to have enough time to pack up and drive off without having to confront them.  There'd be other gas stations and they did still have some full tanks on top of the car.

In reply to GM (msg # 55):

Rod headed over to new opening via the roof beam. He had to leave the truck for a moment with the door open and the motor running as it was keeping the door sealed. His pistol came ready in his hand, shooting into the breach and hitting the dead in their foreheads. However, there was a lot of more inside.

Rod looked at the remains of the roof, and saw several beams still standing, but broken. No matter how many where inside, they where not much stronger than normal people, even less so in most cases. He looked at the weak joints of the rafters while shooting a few that got too close, and then picked out his shot carefully. Firing into the weakened rafter to cause more roof collapse, but in certain areas. Specifically, where the dead where.

It might not re-kill them all, but it would trap them under hundred of pounds of debris. Allowing the group to move in, grab the gas, and go long before any of the creatures could dig their way out.

OOC:
10:32, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 10 using 3d4+2.  Specialization: pistol.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:39, Fri 23 July 2021.

(OOC: Hey, good shooting, let's see how much luck he has to go with it. please make a Serendipity roll Rod.)

Roberta and her husband had just finished loading the loading the fuel and kids into the Subaru when Rod began firing into the church from the edge of the roof. She rolled her eyes and checked the others. One man had finished filling fuel tanks and was loading them into a truck. Others were loading supplies taken from the truck Rod had been driving. She assumed the obvious; they figured Rod's truck wouldn't be rejoining the convoy.

In reply to GM (msg # 58):

OOC-damn good luck!

21:10, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 11 using 3d4.  Serendipity.

The general poor condition of the structure gave way. Rod stepped back and dropped to a crouch just as the wall he had been standing on leaned inward and collapsed. There was the groan and crash of wood as the Church continued to collapse. The sudden smell of freshly crushed corpses was heavy in the hot air. Rod's stomach lurched.

Standing and staring in utter awe, people started to clap. It was surprising to see, but more surprising to Roberta that the others would clap at Rod's daring-do.

"Hey, there's more over there in that house." A woman called out. "Maybe we should go before Rod's luck runs out."

"Come on, Rod!" Roberta called out as she opened the door of the Subaru and counted heads.  "Let's get going!

"And stay off the radio!" she added emphatically to everyone while glaring in Rod's direction.

In reply to GM (msg # 60):

"Oh...oh I knew that would work. Suurrrreee I did...." he said with a grin, and then quickly moved away from the collapsed building. "Just in case let's get the hell outta here, huh?" He gets back in his truck, and prepares to pull away as soon as the others are ready.

After Roberta yelled at him, he rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah...I'm staying off the radio."

Back on the road, just a door to a locked house crashed open spilling out a knot of undead, the little convoy traveled on into the setting sun on yet another Alabama dirt road. Time passed, it felt like hours, it was actually only 27 minutes. Too much time in the car.

"look there, mom!" Roberta's head tracked onto the pointed out 'there' like a Navy Phalanx system onto an incoming missile at the sound of her son's voice.

Roberta spotted the sign instantly. Burchfeld Traveling Fair. It was in a farmer's field. And it looked surprisingly clear of threats. Rides, booths, RVs, trailers, trucks, and empty animal cages. A sign hung stating that the fair would be closed to the public until further notice. It was out in the open, surrounded by one of those portable fencing set ups, and was easy to see all around in. Maybe it would do for a night.

Rod was riding tail-end in the order of their convoy. A sudden thunp-thump-thump on the roof over his head and a shout drew his attention to a fair ground up ahead. Well, maybe his luck was holding. A fair would mean big trucks to haul rides, so fuel. Trailers housing concession stands, so there would be water. They had animals, so veterinary supplies. And trailers for the traveling workers to sleep in, so beds.

Not spotting any infected around, she stopped the car.  "Stay in the car please," she said over the seat to the teens.  "We're going to see what the others think."

Getting out, she walked back to confer with the other drivers.

"The fence is nice, but I'm concerned about those empty cages," she explained to the other drivers.

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 64):

"Should I go take a look about? Might have to do it on foot in order not to be spotted..." Rod pointed out.

"Take someone with you and be careful," Roberta said to Rod, agreeing with his plan.  "We'll set up a perimeter and get something together to eat."

John could organize a watch while she got the kids and some others to help make some food.

Rod looked about who he thought was the sneakiest person he knew in the group, and was smart enough not to shoot their gun at the first scare. Anyone with a silencer would be his first pick...or a sharp knife.

Once he picked that person out, and they agreed, he would head over to the fair. If it was not too far, he would walk. Otherwise he would drive most of the distance, and then conceal the truck before heading into the fairgrounds.

OOC:
13:27, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 9 using 3d4+2.  Sneaking and scouting.

Rod and the snotty kid who had all the good ideas (and all the smart ass remarks) sneaked out across the fare grounds. They found a lot of nothing. Sort of. The place had evidently been evacuated early on. There were a lot of boxes snack foods, stacks of canned sodas, and close to six hundred pounds of popcorn.

There were several 'Aid Stations'. Small trailers that were a single room with a chair, a reclining bed, and a couple of lockers with sutures, hydration bags, burn cream, band aids, pills for motion sickness, upset stomach, nausea, and diarrhea. There were also dozens of boxes sterile gloves, face masks, hand sanitizer, and so on.

The rigs used to haul the rides and trailers were neatly parked. Many RVs were set out in an orderly fashion, the road home of the fare, and seemed to be stocked with food, clothing, appliances, etc.

There was even a power truck. It was an old school bus outfitted with four diesel generators to power the rides and booths. It was parked by a large van painted bright yellow with the words 'Prize Mobile' on the sides. It was chock full of cases of prizes for the booths; toys, stuffed animals, etc.

The thing that they didn't find was any signs of undead. Not even the faintest traces of old corpses. Footprints in staggering patterns. Nothing.

Roberta was working the others preparing a meal without unload to much stuff just in case they needed to find a new over-night location. She was beginning to run over the problem as she thought of it with the ship. The upgrade for the navigational programming had failed. It occurred to her that the real problem may have been an interruption of the implementation. How many people were left alive who could handle such complex program troubleshooting she wondered.

In reply to GM (msg # 68):

After checking the place out, Rod sends the kid back with the news. There was a lot of useful stuff here, especially the power truck. That could be retro fitted to supply electricity to the entire convoy. Rod would need help and additional people getting all those goodies back.

The kid came running back to the others and began talking loudly and quickly, "Holy cow! That carnival thing is just sitting there all stocked up with no one around. We can live here like kings; popcorn, candy, and RVs to sleep in."

People laughed, several balked, and one or two told him to shush. Roberta rolled her eyes. It would seem that the apocalypse did little to assuage the wonders of youth.

"Mom, can we get some popcorn?" Her son asked.

"If it looks safe at first glance," Roberta said, "let's move inside the fence and do a thorough search before it gets too dark.

"In the morning we can take a look around and stock up before getting back on the road."

She didn't ask for a vote and until someone questioned her, she assumed she was in charge of getting them to the ship in one piece.

The group moved into the fairgrounds. Quickly everyone found accommodations among the RVs. There was room to pull their vehicles up close and set out guards to watch over the place.

It was surprising to think that the staff of this traveling menagerie of hustlers, hucksters, performers, clowns, hawkers, and roustabouts had been nearly three times the size of their little band of survivors. That the field they had set up this fair in was now an area too large to keep guarded when before it would have been under observation from opening to closing. At least the RVs had propane for their stoves and the generator truck had fuel.

In no time people were cooking dinner. The smells of meat and onions and peppers was drifting on the breeze. It was a good moment. The promise of sleeping in a comfy bed instead of a hammock, car seat, or on the ground made it a great moment for most.

When Roberta heard there was a generator truck, all she heard was "noise maker".

"We're not turning that thing on unless we want to draw in every infected for miles around," she explained.  "Just because we have a fence, doesn't mean we're safe.  We'll leave it off unless we have a real reason to use it.  That goes for generators as well.

"You all remember what happened back at the gas station.  Noise just riles them up."

She let Rod arrange what kind of security they'd have for the night.

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 73):

"We can use it when we have some sound damping. Like a river or a storm or something. Plus the option of electrical power is too good to pass up." Rod replied to Roberta about the generator trucks.

As for security, Rod worked up some shifts to stay on watch, but to deal with the dead he set up chest height metal wire, along with knee height wire. Those things where not clever or agile enough to get around them, and would make noise if they got caught up in it. That would get the camp and teh watchers on the alert.

The night was warm, but not uncomfortably so. Sleep came hard for many. It was a matter of just too much on their minds. Roberta's husband made his way outside to find a folding chair to sit. He packed an old pipe with tobacco smelling of cherries. He lit it with a single match, cupping his hand over the flame. A puffed the tobacco to glowing life in the pipe.

He was lost in thought when another man approached. Tim, Tom, Toby, something with a T anyway. Roberta couldn't recall the man's name but she could just hear their conversation.

"Hello, I see you are still enjoying that pipe." the man said.

"Yes, yes, I am." came the reply.

"Can't sleep either?" the guard asked. "You and half the camp are up."

"Yeah, to much on the old mind." He said. "I was thinking about something. You said you were in the Navy. On a destroyer. Right?"

"Yeah, the Dandridge, why?" The man seemed genuinely curious.

"Why do they need a computer update to sail away?" the question took the Navy man by surprise.

"You know. They really don't." He said. "The only real reason to updated the nav software is to keep in touch. You know. Satellites. And they don't need that to simply sail around the seven seas. Mainly used to navigate around enemies and launch missiles."

Both men seemed to come to the same thought together and echoed their surprise in an 'oh shit!' moment.

What?

Roberta sat up and clambered out of the RV their family had claimed for the night.

"If they don't need the computer to sail," she asked, "why would they they need an excuse to stay where they are?"

Were they stalling for time or was the ship no longer seaworthy for some reason?  Or was it an entirely different system they needed fixed.  Some weapons system or something.

"Was there anything else strange going on when you were there?" she asked her husband.

"Honestly, my guess is that the ship probably has some cruise missiles." The man said. He looked around, almost conspiratorially. "And I believe that more than a few of those cruise missiles have nuclear payloads. They need the upgraded computer software to account for the changes to the network for navigation. Almost all of the satellites are out of communication with the planet."

From the pictures she'd seen of the bombed cities, Roberta wasn't keen on getting any nuclear systems working for someone.  Though, it's not like anyone would know what she was doing anyway if she said she couldn't fix something like that.

"I guess we'll find out," she finally said.  "But I think we should have everyone keep their eyes and ears open if there's anything strange going on once we get there."

The night passed. Sometime around 3am, once she and her husband had managed to fall back to sleep, Roberta was roused awake by rolling thunder. Minutes later she was nearly back to sleep when rain fell like a maddened drummers beating on top of the RV. She sighed.

Rod was snoring. He had found a nice corner spot in an RV that had an old recliner pinched in a corner between a side window and a back window of an RV. The night breeze was too much. He was out; drooling, snoring, and dreaming of racing motorcycles on Blakely Drive as a kid again.

When the thunder rolled through the open windows he snorted and began to wake up. At first he thought it was time to get up. He sat up, rubbing his face wishing for a shower before he was late for work. Had he overslept again? Old Man Hernandez at the shop was gonna be mad. Again. Then the rain pelted Rod through the open side window and doused him cool water and cold realization. It was only the apocalypse.

He should've taken a bed slot like Roberta had chosen.

Then the first shout went up. It was so faint in the drumming rain and thunder. A moment later came the gunfire. Then more screams.

"Stay in the RV!" Roberta said immediately as she stumbled out of the nonstandard bed.  "John, see if you can get this thing started and moving.  Circle around with the lights to see what's going on.

"Kids, look out the windows and see if you can figure out what's going on, but get down if anyone shoots at us."

She started getting dressed and putting on her holster.  Their best bet was wandering infected.  Their worst bet was an ambush.  Since it seemed they got past the fence, it seemed unlikely to be infected.

In reply to GM (msg # 79):

"Motherfucker!" Rod swore, and righted himself. Angry not so much at the ambush, but about dreaming of his life before, and everything that he could be doing now. All if not for the end of the world...

However, the ambush was more important than anything else now. He clipped on his belt of gear and weapons, and headed for the noise. Putting on his night vision goggles and activating the device. He needed to see what the hell was going on...

Rod had just stepped out of his chosen RV, followed two others who had opted to sleep in the same vehicle for safety when he saw an RV two vehicles over suddenly turn on its head lights and pull out of the line of RVs. It was the RV Roberta and her family were in.

"Humph." Rod grunted. He had thought to do that.

The headlights shot cones of light out across the fairgrounds. In the shadows and poorly lit alleys of the rides and kiosks two things became immediately clear. An undead horde had wondered into the fairground during the night. And there were a damned lot of them.

More screams and shots rang out from another part of the carnival. closer than Rod liked. Turning he spotted several dozen undead shambling towards the RVs from the direction they had driven up from. They actually in among the cars left behind. Close, so close, crossed his mind, followed by the thought of where were they coming from.

Then the smell hit him and their was crunch of gravel behind him.

Roberta was just sitting down in the passenger seat when she spotted the first of the undead that had wondered into the fairground. They were closer than she would have liked. The RV slowed.

"We can't run through them with this thing." John said to her without looking at her. "It's too slow. I'm afraid it won't be able to maneuver in here without a picking up a little steam. It's just too heavy. We need to back up. Can you go see what is behind us?"

In reply to GM (msg # 82):

Rod headed for his truck, and got ready to plow the lot of them down. If he could clear a path, then the others could drive out. Worse comes to worse, he draws the Horde away from them...

OOC-making a path clear for the convoy and drawing away the dead to follow my truck. By honking and running them down if need be.

22:45, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 10 using 3d4+2.  Specialization: driving.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:47, Tue 10 Aug 2021.

"This rain isn't going to make the ground any easier to drive on, either," Roberta replied to her husband grimly.  She looked around and came to an unwelcome conclusion.

"Try to pull up next to that power truck," she said, pointing.  "If I can get it running, it might draw them to it."  She wasn't thrilled with the idea, but it might give everyone a chance to break out.

Rod rolled along slowly, honking and revving the big V8. Soon he had drawn what appeared to be dozens of undead towards the sound of the truck. He was basically circling inside the fairground. People watched in amazement as more and more undead filtered in.

It occurred to Rod that no matter how many he managed to draw off that there were simply too many. Every circuit he ran through the RVs and parked cars seemed to draw more undead. And through it all people kept screaming and shooting.

He did notice that Roberta's RV had moved over to the big truck holding all the generators. Maybe she had an idea to get away.

As the RV pulled up to where the generator truck parked Roberta soon realized that the vehicle was to big to maneuver up next to the generator truck because of nearby vehicles, fuel drums, and several trees. John was trying he level best, but the closest he could get the generator truck was about twenty feet.

"Stay in the RV," she told the two teens.  "Only shout or honk if there's one coming up behind me.  I'm going to get it running and then come back, so circle around and don't let them surround you until I start back."

With that, she took her spear, patted her sidearm, and opened the door to make the dash for the generator truck.

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 86):

Seeing how he was not leading away any of the dead, Rod went on offense. He figured if Roberta could make it to the generator truck, he could make sure she had a clear road to do so.

He proceeded to mow down as many of the creatures as he could. Making sure Roberta's efforts would not be interrupted.

ooc-20:18, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 11 using 3d4+2.  Driving speciality .

Rod recalled the story of the pied piper. Only his instrument was a horn and he leading hundreds of undead. Well, the thought, grandma would understand. He led them out into the rides where the space began to work against their numbers. With every loop into the parking area he drew out more undead. It was working, he smiled at himself.

Then his heart sank. One the undead in the lead of the pack following the pick up truck was one of the women in their little group. It hit Rod hard. They were losing people because there were just too many undead. The more he drew away, the more came along.

Roberta was just making her way to the generator truck when the horn honked behind her. He kids began shouting 'run, mom, run'. She knew it had to be close. The truck was only yards away now.

(Roberta please make and athleticism roll. thanks)

Without looking back, Roberta sprinted ahead toward the truck.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 8 using 3d4+2.  Athletics Check.

Roberta shot forward towards the tall flatbed trailer with it row of generators. She covered the last few yards hearing the shuffle of feet in the gravel behind her. With effort that elicited a grunt from her, she hauled herself up onto the flat surface of the trailer.

Hands grasped at her pants leg. She was crudely jerked to the side and her forward momentum stopped. Reflexively she spun onto her butt and elbows. A knot of undead were closing on her. A single man, his face a mask of lacerated flesh, was gripped her left pants leg with his hands and trying to pull her leg toward his mouth.

Panting her other foot Roberta used her wight to anchor herself. Sweat began to soak her clothing as the thought of dying as a living smorgasbord for the undead circulated through her mind.

Rod needed a new plan. He needed a way to lure the undead away before they were too close to the fair grounds. The gunfire and screaming was drawing them in like ants to sugar. The truck was a good lure, but it was only pulling away some those already in the carnival. He needed a way to draw the undead away before they made it into the carnival.

As he looked back he saw Roberta bolt for the generator truck. Flooring the accelerator, Rod slung the truck into motion. He was laying on the horn and knocking undead aside. The RV was nearby, but it blocked out due to its size.

He realized then that John had been trying to keep her safe but the big vehicle could not get close enough. Rod's pickup truck burst in, smashing at a small group of undead almost to Roberta as she clambered up onto the trailer. To his horror, a lone undead had her by the leg and was trying to drag her back to the ground.

In reply to GM (msg # 90):

Rod kept driving, but managed to reach out with one hand, armed with his pistol. He placed a single shot in the head of the creature grabbing Roberta's leg. Of course, he kept driving, squashing any of the dead in his way.

ooc-21:18, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 10 using 3d4+2.  Pistol.

Roberta was looking for a weapon or other way out her predicament when Rod's truck bounced by in the narrow space between the generator laden trailer and the next semi-truck over. To her amazement he leaned out his out a bit and fired off a shot that struck the undead yanking at her pants leg in the side of the head. Immediately the thing fell away, releasing her leg, and sending her over onto her hands and knees with the stored up momentum of her struggle.

Roberta was aghast that someone took a shot from a moving vehicle, driving across an uneven field, in the rain, in the dark, while she struggled with the infected man.  She felt lucky to even be alive with people taking such careless shots around her.

Pushing the man off of her, Roberta pulled herself up onto the flatbed and used her flashlight to figure out how to turn on one of the generators.  She crossed her fingers that there was fuel or that anything was even hooked up to it.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 8 using 3d4.  Serendipity Check, Generators work?

With a sudden roar clattering, a generator fired up. It was big diesel powered thing looking more like an abandoned train engine laying on its side. The sound took her by surprise, but in moments lights around the fairground came to life. Music began playing from loudspeakers mounted to lampposts. After few minutes a green light came on the control panel of each generator as their electric starters accumulated electric charges.
Walking down the like all it took was the press of a button to fire up the remaining generators.

Rod was driving between some trees and an RV when lights and music suddenly filled the night. He was caught unprepared, as were they all, and it took a moment for the situation to sink in; Roberta had turned the fair back on.

In reply to GM (msg # 94):

Rod, glad Roberta's plan was now in effect, realized he no longer needed to be a distraction. He needed to get ahead of his 'followers', and get into a patch of darkness. Driving without headlights was bad, but not as bad as running out of gas while being chased by a group of the dead. As soon as his car stopped making noise and the lights where out, most of the shambling things chasing him would be drawn to the source of lights and sound.

OOC-
10:46, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 9 using 3d4+2.  Driving speciality re-roll.

With the success of her plan, the others should at least be able to see their attackers and get to safety while the noise and lights distracted the infected.

Hunkering down, she waited to see if John would circle back around close enough for her to make a run for the RV.  Reaching back, she picked up her spear where it had dropped on the truck when she'd clambered on and felt for her gun to see if it was still in its holster.

Rod gunned it, slid around a line of RVs, rolled up under some trees and killed the lights. As the truck came to quick stop he killed the lights and settled sideways in the seat. Soon enough, those that had been following him lost interest to the sounds of music and the dazzling lights of the fair.

Roberta scrambled around gathering her spear and pistol. Holstering the pistol she knelt near one of the big generators and scanned the area. John was still waiting, the RV was were had been when she had bolted for the generators. But hundreds of undead were filtering in between them now. Attracted by the sounds and lights.

To their dismay there was still too much shooting. And distressing number of screams. Their little band of survivors hadn't been big and it seemed to be getting smaller by the minute. Rod had drawn hundreds of undead away, but now it seemed that they were once again marching their macabre walk back into the fair. It would be a hard night to survive.

Roberta waited anxiously for a window to sprint for the RV, but she wasn't in a hurry to push her luck any further.  Breathing deeply, she wondered what had happened to the people Rod had set for guard rotation.  Had they fallen asleep or just been taken unaware?

Right now, though, all she could think about was where they'd parked the Subaru.

Rod needed to start evacing people out of here. The lights and sounds of the fair would be a huge distraction for the dead. However, he would have to drive slow, and without headlights. If he could gather up enough people and sneak them out...

OOC-car stealth efforts at getting people out and hiding them outside the fairground. The sounds and lights will distract the dead. Trying to save as many of the living as I can.

07:21, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 11 using 3d4+2.  Free reroll due to specialization .
This message was last edited by the player at 11:29, Tue 24 Aug 2021.

Rod spotted a young man, Cooper he thought was the name, stranded in a tree with several undead reaching up for him. Easing the truck forward, Rod was spotted at the last moment. But, that didn't matter. He rolled forward steadily and ran into the undead. One fell under and the truck rolled over it while the others were pushed along ahead of the vehicle even as they reached up along the hood.

Once under the young man with the truck Rod stopped as he dropped into the bed. The man leaned forward to the driver's window and spoke to Rod saying, "Thanks, pal, there is a couple of folks up there."

He pointed to a small kiosk selling masks. It was surrounded by a thick layer of undead. Intermittent gunfire escaped the kiosk as someone inside fired and reloaded a double barrel shotgun.


Roberta waited and waited. For every half dozen undead that wondered by several more would wonder up. The smell was getting worse. And she was sure that at any moment the undead would again spot her on the trailer.

To her dismay a window opened up in the back of the RV and her son suddenly looked out at her. Her heart leapt with fear. Then suddenly he was gone. A few moments later there was a fiery contrail as her son fired a rocket into the stormy night. There was a huge boom and brilliant shower of colorful sparks. Immediately the undead took notice. Another rocket went out the window and the door of the RV suddenly opened and John waved at her.

"Now, come on, now!" He yelled as another boom lit the stormy night.

In reply to GM (msg # 100):

Trying to sneak up on a person with a truck would be pointless and insane. However, the dead has issues with both thier senses and cognition. Rod mowed down a few of them with his front bumper, and screamed "MOVEMOVEMOVE!" At the survivors while he planned to peel outta of there...

OOC-thank goodness for that reroll.

08:38, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 9 using 3d4+2.  Free reroll due to specialization .

Roberta didn't need to be told twice.  She jumped down from the trailer and dashed for the open door of the RV.  She was surprised how slippery the ground had gotten from the rain and churning under the feet of the undead.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 6 using 3d4+2.  Athletics Check.

Rod had shifted through three gears and was running the engine to nearly five thousand rpm when the rear tires finally began to slip less in the muddy soil and pic up forward momentum. A woman came running out to meet the truck, but was flummoxed when it slid past her. Rod was gearing down, pumping the break, but still the tires lost traction in the muddy terrain. As an added aggravation the windshield was awash with raindrops limiting his visibility.

At last the truck slewed around and Rod had a moment of fright as the side of the bed stopped bare inches from the woman. Fearing he had nearly slapped her into the undead with the pickup he was relieved when the man in the back pulled her over the side. Looking up, Rod's heart sank.

Roberta was running, hell bent for the RV, but in the last few yards she fell forward when her foot caught on the arm of one of the undead mashed by the RV earlier. Gripping her spear like a it was a child, she went reeling forward and landed face first in the mud with a jaw-jarring splat.

"Up! Up! Up!" she heard John shouting, then there was the booming of the shotgun he held.

In reply to GM (msg # 103):

Despite the rain, the moving truck, and the poor visibility...Rod aimed with his pistol. He had always been told he was an natural. Granted some members of his gang trained him in basic handgun use. They got some benefit of severing in the army. Even if it left them with a head full of nightmares that they never fully recovered from.

He remembers them showing him the basics, how to clean the thing, how to make sure it was not used as a toy. Rod found that out the hard way when one of his childhood friends blew his own brains out. He never liked the things after that...but he still used them.

Like now, when he put the bullet into the head of the thing grabbing Roberta. He was getting over his dislike of the weapon, despite how many of his friends where killed by them. He never used guns like this until the world ended.

Ooc-22:24, Today: Rodrigo Rod Duma rolled 10 using 3d4+2.  Pistol specialist .

Something fell hard near Roberta's feet just as she felt John's hand on her wrist.

"Come on!" He said urgently. He looked terrified of what was behind her. Grabbing up her spear from the muddy soil, Roberta's hand came up with a keyring holding maybe a dozen keys hooked into her pinking finger.

"Someone's shooting at us!" Roberta shouted back at John as she pulled her gun and fired wildly back in the direction the shot had come from.  She couldn't see a thing in rain and wildly flashing lights, but she let loose anyway.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 9 using 3d4-1.  Combativeness Check.

(OCC:nice shot Roberta)

Rod was grinning. The undead had topped to the ground like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut. John was helping Roberta up from the ground when she suddenly ripped of a rushed shot in his general direction. He flinched just the truck seemed to start shutter and lose power.

"Holy shit!" The man in the back shouted. "Did she just shoot the truck? Damn, does she think you were shooting at her."

"Oh, hell, we have to let everyone know to be careful. That there isn't any marauders here." The woman called out a moment later. "Wait! There aren't any marauders here are there?"

In reply to GM (msg # 107):

"Crap! She shot my truck! I should shoot the Subaru, see how she likes that!" Rod grumbled.

"Ok, everybody get ready to run! We have to get to their truck ASAP!" Rod tries to keep going as long as he can, but if the truck dies he will have to lead the others to the nearest working vehicle.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:59, Fri 27 Aug 2021.

Roberta let John pull her along as she tried to get her feet under her once more.  She was covered in mud, soaking wet, and felt like she weighed two hundred pounds.  She wasn't sure if she hit anything firing back, but all the noise and lights of the carnival, combined with the rain, drowned out everything at that distance.

"Let's find Rod and as many as we can find," she shouted.  "And keep an eye out for the Subaru because this thing can't get us where we need to go."

John was backing up in the RV, using the reverse cameras to guide he big vehicle back, when he spotted several people getting out of a pick up truck.

"Hey, is that Rod and some of the others getting out of that truck?" John asked over his shoulder without turning his head. "Maybe you can shout at them. I think the Subaru is parked on the other side of the trees we passed, near where this thing was parked. Hey, look, that is Rod."

Rod had let the pickup truck roll for a little bit then stopped it and got out. The others bound out of the back without prompting. The woman seemed frazzled, but suddenly pointed towards a set of moving lights.

"Is that one of the RVs that was near the trailer with the generators?" She asked. "Wait, was there more than one there. What if the was, are the others raiders or something? Do we need to hide just in case they are looking for us?"

Roberta leaned out the side door and shouted to the people jumping out of the truck, "Over here!  Have you seen any others?"

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 111):

"No, I think...someone...shot my truck. Pretty sure it was not raiders though..." He shouted back. "I have not seen anybody but the people I picked up." Getting his pistol and knife ready, he gestured for the people with him to follow to join up with Roberta and the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:59, Mon 30 Aug 2021.

The RV saw suddenly full; Rod, the two survivors, Roberta and her family. It was tight in the slim confines of the RV. John used the big vehicle as a battering ram forcing undead out of the way or merely crushing them. When he pulled the RV up in front of the Subaru it was painfully apparent the not all of them would fit into the station wagon.

"Does anyone know where the other vehicles are parked?" Roberta asked of those in the RV.  The truck was out, but they didn't show up with just two vehicles and they could use the RV for as long as it could handle the roads.

The man running up with Rod pointed back to the south and called out, "Back along the line of trucks. We parked there and occupied two RVs. I don't know if anyone else made it. There was some shooting and we all ran this way."

"I'll take the kids in the Subaru with two more passengers and get back on the road headed south," Roberta said, putting her hand on her husband's shoulder.  "You and Rod head back to see if you can find anyone else and another truck.  Then catch up to us."

She bent down to kiss him on the head before turning to give Rod a hug.  "You all be save and don't be late!"

In reply to Roberta Johnson (msg # 116):

Rod grins at Roberta. "Don't worry, I will make sure this guy does not take any crazy chances. That's my job!" He snickered.

It only took minutes before Roberta found the best way to drive was hugging the RV's rear bumper. John drove, using the RV to shove through what seemed like and an ever growing sea of undead. The smell of decaying flesh was repugnant, nauseating, and overwhelming. The man and woman had joined her and the kids in the Subaru and were now using pistols to selective shoot any undead that came to close to the car.

Rod was amazed. He was standing, binoculars in hand, and watching the ebb and flow of the massive horde as he guided John through the area. The constant bump and crunch of undead coming into contact with the RV was becoming rather gross. Fetid, sticky chunks of undead coated the front end. The smell was trapped in the RV, Rod was sure it would never come out.

It took nearly half and hour to get back on the road, the sun was just coming up in the east. Once they made it about a mile down the highway headed south the undead had thinned out to the point that the passed one or two along the road as they rolled along. That they never came across any of the other survivors wasn't lost on them. In the dawning light they caught glimpses of undead in uniforms; soldiers, law enforcement, emergency services, and civilian militias. It occurred to Rod and Roberta that these undead may have been from the massive wave they dodged days before in the vicinity of Tennessee. It occurred to them that these undead may have been from those military types still fighting the undead in Tennessee as well. But, could they have traveled this far south and west in that time?

Roberta was hopeful that there were other survivors that made it out, but there were too many infected for them to stay where they were.  They'd also lost a lot of the equipment they'd been building up with the lost vehicles.

The new RV, however, seemed to have it's advantages as a blunt instrument to push it's way through a horde.  It's sheer weight allowed it the traction that even Rod's truck would have been lacking.  As long as they were on some kind of roadway, they'd be able to keep pushing through.  They'd been lucky the wet fairgrounds hadn't bogged them down.

The downfall of the vehicle was it's fuel economy and maneuverability.  They'd need to stop more often to fill up and fill ups would take longer with the larger tanks.  Even longer if they collected gas cans for mobile refueling.

If they were forced to go off the paved surface, there was a chance it would get stuck or be unable to maneuver around an obstacle it couldn't push aside.  And heaven help them if they blew a tire.

OOC-what is our convoy down to and who is in what car?

The sun began creeping in through the clouds and trees to the east. The morning was coming on slowly. They were all tired, having missed half the night's sleep, and were beginning to feel itchy all over. It was like they had all been sprayed with a mild acid. Sweating profusely, everyone noticed their skin felt like it was coated with a fine sheen of soap.

"Mom, I'm so itchy." Roberta's daughter said giving words to all of their thoughts.

"Yeah, and hot. It's a cool morning. Raining, why are we so hot?" The woman complained. "It's like I'm back on my uncle's farm chopping up cow itch and poison ivy vines in the summer again."

"Not to panic," Roberta said slowly, "but do we have a geiger counter?"

It was obvious what she was concerned about.  Gunning the engine, she passed the RV and pulled around ahead of it to turn on her blinker to pull over.  She didn't think there was a radio on in the RV for her to call to, so this was the best alternative.

"Ideas on indoor running water if the RV's shower doesn't work," she said.  "We need to rinse off sooner rather than later."

On the RV, Rod pulled over as the Subaru signaled him. He stretched as he got up, and shook his head. "This thing moves like a tugboat. I used to have a great pickup truck." He grinned at John, and pulled out a canned soda and handed it to him. "Your wife owes me a new car. I'm thinking one of the electric SUVs. With gold rims. And a custom horn that plays 'La Cucaracha.'" He grins as he gets out of the car to meet with Roberta.

"Dude, no." John said. "This is Dixie. You need and orange charger with a rebel flag and one of the meh-eh-oheh-eh horns."

"Everyone needs to rinse off fast," Roberta said urgently as she closed the distance with the RV.  "Get the kids through first, 3 minutes each as fast as you can."

She pushed the two teens in the direction of the RV.  "Don't waste water, just get in, rinse off with soap as fast as you can, and get out!"

Once they were on the move, she explained to the two men and her other passengers if they hadn't already come to the same conclusion.

"I think that rain was radioactive," she explained as she peeled off extra soaked layers down to her underwear right there on the highway.  "We need to get out of these wet clothes and rinsed off with clean water.

"I'm hoping the RV has a tank full enough for everyone," she said as she looked around where they were, "but we may need to find a house or rest stop and hope for water pressure."

In reply to GM (msg # 124):

"Dude...Dixie is the song of the old south! You know, the one who really liked slavery?" He rolled his eyes at John. "'La Cucaracha' is the song of the Mexican Revolution! The one where poor people got together and overthrew those rich 'pendejos'!"

Rod waits his turn to shower, but makes sure to go last.

"Nah, the name comes from the ten dollar notes issued before 1860 by the Citizens' Bank of New Orleans." John began. "They were used largely by French-speaking residents and were imprinted with dix, French for ten, on the reverse side. Hence the land of Dixies, or Dixie Land, which applied to Louisiana and eventually to the whole south."

He turned to look Rod in the eyes and said, "You see, you are thinking of the cotton states, also referred to as the deep south. Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina. These states were the primary cotton producing and plantation bearing states that fueled the antebellum agricultural economy founded by the democratic party back in the 1830s."

He turned back to the road and smiled, then added, "It would seem the first deep south colonies were founded by Spanish settlers in the 1560s. As I recall they were famous for enslaving the native Americans of the region. In his book published in 1819, Mexican political writer Jose Joaquin Fernandez de Lizardi claims the song 'La Cucaracha' was brought from Spain to Mexico by a naval captain. It was about a cockroach who lost his legs and was used as a metaphor to describe people too helpless to change their situation."

In reply to GM (msg # 127):

"Actually, you will find that the songs change as time changes. Dixie might have started the way, but by the time of the civil war it was the anthem for the entire south. That is what it represents now, and forever will.

In the case of La Cucaracha, by 1910 the lyrics where changed to represent the struggle against those rich scumbags. And if you want to drag Mexican slavery into it, the practice was abandoned by almost all of Mexico, except by the areas still run by the United states."

"Sounds like the definition of language changes with the argument." Came the reply. "Such is the way with people when they decide it suits them. A line of thinking like this is even less likely to sway the wife into getting you a vehicle to replace that truck. And you still missed the Dukes of Hazard reference. You always so argumentative?"

With that John took his turn in the shower. Three minutes later he stepped out in a clean t-shirt and sweat pants. He set a travel sized bottle of liquid dial soap, a worn white towel, and pair of flip-flops still the cellophane wrapper.

"Courtesy of the Little John Camp for Christian Youth." John said. "Dump this stuff in the big trash bag when you're done. It's cold only, sorry, but I think the hot water has been out for while."

Roberta was loathe to lose her lucky marathon t-shirt that had gotten her this far, but John was right, they had to dump anything they were wearing.  The gun and holster would probably be all right if rinsed them off really well as they weren't in direct contact with the skin, and maybe the boots, but the rest had to go.

Luckily, she had clothes in the Subaru she could get once it stopped raining.

In reply to GM (msg # 129):

"Dude, in our situation-the odds of us gaining another truck are as good as us just coming across one. I was not serious about that.

As for Dixie...I was. I don't know the Dukes of Hazzard, so I don't know what you are talking about there.

While I get what you are saying about it origin, trying to defend what that song has become is missing the point. That is what our discussion started about-Dixie being an anthem for something horrible.

If the south had taken up 'La Cucaracha' and made it about the confederacy, I would not like that song anymore. It's really that simple."

He grabbed the trash bag and proceeded to get rid of it. Then he took his very cold shower.

Rod came out of the shower to find dry clothes stacked on a counter with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The t-shirt on top of the stack was black with an orange '69' dodge charger, an attractive brunette, two young men, and old guy with a snowy white beard wearing overalls. 'The Dukes' was written under the picture.

The woman he had rescued earlier was laid out atop the RV's table, asleep, as if she couldn't wait any longer and simply laid down on the first flat surface she found. In the seat near her was pump shotgun and one of those belts hunters wore with loops holding extra cartridges.

"Let's turn out the lights and try to get some sleep," Roberta said as she looked out the wide front windshield to see how the rain was fairing.  She pulled out the Subaru key fob and held it up to see if the doors would lock from there.  They didn't need to wake up and find the car with the rest of their gear missing.  Locking the RV door from the inside was also something she double checked.

"We'll turn out the lights, set up a watch and move out at sunrise if the rain lets up."

She really hoped they wouldn't attract any attention pulled over where they were.  She was also going to make sure they actually had someone on watch all night as well.  Roberta didn't know how they'd been ambushed so badly back at the fairgrounds, but it was obvious whatever preparations Rod had made were not enough.

It was still raining when the sun came up. And it was still hot. But, not radioactively so Roberta noted. They had lost much in the night. But according to the map they was getting closer to Mobile. Another day, with a little luck, would see them through.

Roberta checked the others. They seemed distant, she felt like they were tired of the push to get south to the boat. It occurred to her that they might be planning on heading west instead. But why?

Then a plane flew over. It was a twin engine propeller plane. It was flying low and quite slow and seemed to be running along the highway just south of their position. The body of the plane, from the distance, looked dark blue or black and there were several openings along the fuselage of the aircraft. Was someone searching the ground? If so, what were they looking for?

As long as it was raining, Roberta wasn't getting out of the RV.  She didn't think the Farm had another plane, so it would be unlikely it was someone they knew.  It could also be a spotter for whatever they'd heard on the radio earlier about the bridge.

"John," she said, getting her husbands attention, "which way do we go from here?  Are we still on the course you'd planned?"

She set about looking for food.  They had food in the Subaru, but that was inaccessible for the moment.

"We are close enough if the driving is good." He replied as he spread a map across the hood. (OOC: check the new map) "We are here. The next town is Hanceville. We actually got close to this before. There are survivors there that might be willing to help us."

"We'll get started when the rain lets up," Roberta said, tracing their path on the map with a finger.  "Let's just get something to eat and see if this thing has a radio."

When she meant radio, nowadays, she pictured a two way radio like the military or the one they had installed in the Subaru.  Gone were the days of AM/FM stereo.

Tinkering with the radio they had picked up near Chattanooga, Roberta soon picked up a signal that was pretty strong. What she heard shocked her.

"Bannon, comeback, Bannon." A woman was saying. "Major, I've lost Bannon."

"Echo-six, I understand your situation. Please try to stay as calm as you can. And please try to stick to proper radio procedures." A man replied in heartbeats. "Now, tell me what you can see. Over."

"Right." The woman, Echo-six said. "Delta team is down. Delta-six was trapped in an alley. Delta one and four were overran in a street fight with the undead. I did not see what became of Delta two, three, or five but their vehicle exploded several minutes ago. I do not believe they made it out. There hasn't been any gunfire from their last location. Over."

"Good copy, Echo-six." The Major replied. "Can you see the enemy at the moment. Are they still moving through the town? Over."

"Roger that, Helo One." The woman began again. She seemed calmer now. "All of Mobile is on fire. There are thousands of the undead meandering away from the fires. The strike aircraft did a lot of damage to the town but the effort, overall, seems to have not significantly reduced the number of undead. How copy? Over."

There was noting for minutes, then.

"Helo-One, this Echo-six. Do you read me? Over." The woman asked.

Over ten minutes passed and finally a voice came over the radio.

"Echo-six, this Bravo-two, over." The man's voice tense and he seemed to be panting. "Run Echo-six, run. Camp Kitchener has been overrun. I repeat, Camp Kitchener has been overrun. We are heading supply cache six. Meet us there if you can. How copy? Over."

There was nothing for several minutes and Roberta and John shared a wondering looked, then the woman replied.

"Good copy, Bravo-four. We are in agreement here. Will link up with you at cache six. Echo-six, Out." The woman said with finality.

Roberta looked down at the map to see if she could find a Camp Kitchner.  Mobile was easy enough, it was a big city, but hopefully the camp wasn't something new.

"Did we have to go through Mobile?" she asked her husband, hoping the answer was no.

Roberta thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye and looked up to see if it was just the rain.

Roberta Johnson rolled 8 using 3d4+1.  Perception Check.

Roberta checked her notes from the last week. Compared them to her husbands notes from his travels in the area. She compared five different maps. Using a piece of paper she began making notes along a line of thought that soon made her realize that the whole area from the middle of the state to the coast was nothing but a series of actions fighting the undead.

She began comparing more notes but noting the dates and times. This led her to scrounge through their notes until she saw a new realization take shape on the paper. The radio messages. The volunteers. The advisories of where to travel and when. Someone in Mobile was orchestrating a major fraud.

Instead guiding people to a salvageable naval vessel, they were guiding hundreds of volunteers into areas where they would invariably encounter undead. Often this had the effect of rerouting or destroying the undead hordes in question. No one was making it to Mobile. They were being lured in and used to protect whoever was there. And now, the last of the military in Mobile was being used up as well.

She began to wonder if there was any reason to go there at all.

"John," she said soberly to her husband.  "You were there, on the ship.  Was it this bad when you left?"

Was it all centered around the ship?  Why did it look like they were drawing people into the middle of all this?

"It was pretty bad." He said. "The ship personnel seemed to be getting ready. A lot of people had brought supplies and the like to be stored on the ship while they assisted with work details in the area. You know, locate resources for the trip, help with gathering parts, establish safe zones for others coming to the area, sort through personal possessions to maintain weight and space requirements aboard ship, and stuff like that. Why? What are you onto?"

"Is it possible they were just stockpiling resources the survivors brought in," Roberta said soberly.  "Build their trust, have them stock the ship, and then send them out to die in a coordinated massacre with the infected?

"The computer upgrade would be a stalling tactic until they were ready to leave with just the personnel they wanted, leaving the rest behind in the confusion."

They just let John and his group out in order to bring in more survivors and their gear.  Perhaps even to bring her there to break the arming codes they didn't have.

"Could they be that ruthless?"

Her husband sat down. Hard. And just stared at her.

"Oh damn, is that really possible." He asked in shock. "Show me what you have."

Roberta explained her reasoning with her notes and the maps, making sure to include everyone there.

"If they were actually trying to get people to safety," she said, "they wouldn't be running into this much infected resistance.  They know where the mobs are and should be able to work around them, but they're not.

"They're deliberately sending people into harms way."

But was there anything they could do about it?

"Does anyone know how these radio's work?" she asked, hoping Rod, or one of the other two had some experience with them.  "Is there a way for us to turn down the power or something so we could reach someone closer to us and not the ship?"

"The military units are designed using specific crystal sets. A sort of proprietary technology. It allows other radios of the type to communicate with them." He explained to her. "I don't think we can stop them from eavesdropping on us on this. We need something else. But, I saw HAM radios, CBs, police band radios, emergency radios, hell, they even have old hand-held units from the sixties. They are monitoring everything."

He looked around the map. And dawned on him that on at least three occasions he had led groups into the teeth of the undead. John's face suddenly lit up with realization. He pointed at the map.

"Here, here, and here." He began. The last location was at the Walmart in Tennessee where he met up with Roberta. "In these locations were guided in by local broadcasts. Each time the people we were talking to were also on the path to the ship, as it were. But, we never found them. Just fought a lot of undead. But, there were people there on the ground. They are out they, Roberta, and after people like us do the dirty work they have to be sneaking in to get the supplies in these places."

"So it looks like there's not much we can do," Roberta said in disappointment.  "I was hoping to talk to one of the survivor groups, but it sounds like they're monitoring everything."

She picked up the handset and held it for a moment before saying to the others, "I think we should turn around.  Go back to the Farm.  There's nothing we can do about the ship.  The best we can do is warn anyone what's going on here."

Saying that, she took a deep breath and activated the handset.

"For all you folks in Mobile hoping that boat will ever float, think about how often you've walked head first into a dead end.  How it's never been the way they told you.  How you've lost so many friends, family, and people you barely even knew.

"Ever thought maybe it wasn't bad luck?  That maybe you're just pawns in a game to gather supplies and then cast aside.  Tricked into throwing your lives away while they sit happy and safe on their little stuck boat.

"Have you ever thought that boats floated fine well before computer software?  That a navy ship should have designed redundancy in case the computer died?

"Just a few thoughts you may want to think about before you throw your lives away.

"Good luck and God bless."

"Subaru, out."

The radio chatter that followed was so intense that Roberta couldn't make heads of tales of it. She caught parts of statements and occasional declarations; 'you're a lying bitch', 'oh, my God! it's true, lord help you, lord save us, we gotta go west, and so on.

The one broadcast that stuck in her mind was a man's voice saying, "Echo-four, echo-four, move to intercept, confirm, confirm."

"Can anyone still see that plane up there?" she asked the others.  If the rain had stopped, they should start figuring out a way back that didn't go through the carnival horde.

Intercept who?

"Saw it about half an hour ago." A man said. Damn, what was his name again. It really didn't matter though. Most of them would be leaving to go someplace west soon. "I think it was headed south. Gaining some altitude to too. I bet it was time to go refuel."

She thought it over. And it did make sense. Gain some altitude to trade less atmospheric density and increased lift for brute force and fuel. But a plane could travel to Mobile and back in no time, like an hour or less depending on air speed. They would need to hurry.

A thought crossed her mind. Just how long would it take to refuel that plane anyway?

"We need to get moving," she said finally.  "Rod, you'll take the RV until we can find better vehicles, and we'll take the Subaru," she said, waving in the direction of her family.  She wasn't going to split them up again.

"We'll head west and see if we can get around the carnival herd and find someplace with some overhead cover in case that plane was one of theirs.  We can keep an eye out for new vehicles from there.

"The RV is nice, but it's too easy to spot and we're likely to get it stuck somewhere anyway.

"Any other ideas to add?" she asked, looking around their ragtag group.

Rod had been awfully quiet of late and she was worried he'd invested too much of himself in reaching that ship.  She didn't blame him for trying for it, she'd thought it was a god plan as well, but maybe he blamed himself for what was happening now.

Ten minutes later the Subara was venturing down yet another nameless dirt road in central Alabama.

"I wish these roads had names instead of numbers." He was saying as he checked the map. "It looks like this road will take us through these little farms and to a town, stop."

Fear gripped Roberta as she slowed the car to a halt in the middle of the dirt road. Green, overgrown fields bordered either roadside. The kids looked up from their duties of cataloguing food items into a menu for the next week.

Roberta looked over to see her husband staring at the map. He had folded it out, to follow the road to the next town. The road ran into an area of symmetrical lines made with a red Bic ink pen. A caption to the left of the lines read 'cannibals, the living kind!'.

He looked at her, "Been there. I didn't realize this was Dan Bizzo's map. We will want to go further west. Let me see how close Mississippi is."

Up ahead a pickup truck came around the bend. It was moving a fair speed, maybe thirty miles per hour, in the middle of the road. Two men were standing in the back of the vehicle.

"Honey," John said. "drive us out of here."

"The RV won't be able to follow us," Roberta said, gripping the wheel and looking for somewhere to go.  "They only have the one truck.

"Kids, keep your heads down," she said, slamming the gear shift into reverse and backing quickly around behind the large RV.

"Take the driver's seat," she said to her husband as she put it in park and got out of the car.

"This is Rod's show."

The pursuing truck sped up, but was barely able to keep up with the superior performance of the Subaru. It occurred to Roberta suddenly that all the months of hardship had at least taught to drive better. She looked back in the mirror. The truck was still there. A little closer, but not able to overtake them. The truck was built for intense offload use for sure, but it couldn't muster the speed to catch the Subaru.

Roberta didn't know where she'd lost the RV.  It wasn't like it was easy to hide, but there wasn't anything she could do.  She needed all her concentration just to stay on the road at this speed.

She knew she could beat the truck on gas mileage, but how soon before she ran out of road?

"Did anyone see where the RV went?" she asked as she weaved between derelict vehicles in the road.

As if she had triggered a sudden queue the RV emerged from the field along the side of the road. It was running fast. A man, who Roberta couldn't remember, was pointing to a shape in the field. Rod seemed too busy to noticed much as he maneuvered the big vehicle as best he could.

"He's going to wreck that thing driving like that," Roberta observed of Rod's off roading with an RV.  Though, she was the one that crashed the army truck, so she wasn't in a position to criticize.

What she needed was somewhere the truck was too big to go.

"Keep an eye out for some place the truck won't fit and we will," she said to her family.

"There is a state highway two miles ahead." Her husband said. "It's an overpass. I used it about two weeks ago. It was pretty hairy with undead, but there were few wrecks or abandoned cars. We should be able to get up there and out maneuver them."

"Mom! Dad!" Her son called out from the backseat. he was looking to their right and pointing. "Look it!"

Off, near the edge of a field, they could make a the swaying forms. Staggering in depth and breadth. There would be hundreds, if not thousands, in that horde. It occurred to Roberta that is would be nice just to hole up in a house someplace where nothing would be chasing them. If only for a few days.

A little wine maybe. Yeah, and some smoked meat with cheese. Ah, and an onion and tomato on the side. Maybe they could find some Sam Adams for John. Cereal for the kids. Something sweet and crunchy as a snack. She was lost in those thoughts when the on ramp drew up. Roberta smiled, cut the wheel, and gave the Subaru a little more gas.

She dodged two cars, somewhere in the neighborhood of twenty undead, and what looked like a downed helicopter before she made it onto the highway. She saw that the car was headed northwest.

In the rear-view she saw headlights sweep onto the ramp then pitch into a wonky roll as the truck tipped over with its momentum. She hated it, but knew there was no choice but to be thankful that the truck would not be following them. She had a single thought about Rod, but it was pushed out of her thoughts when she began dodging undead and abandoned cars again.

Up ahead an exit for a local road was approaching. A sign to the side announced that a refugee camp had been founded two miles up the road in something known as Toni's Tame and Wild. Rednecks, she thought, rednecks.

"See if you can reach Rod on the radio and have him meet us back at the bunker he found with the DVD collection if he can't catch up to us," Roberta said to her husband as she navigated the undead and derelict traffic on the road.  She slowed down, but kept an eye out to ensure it wouldn't allow any of the infected the kids had spotted to cut them off.

"Then see if you can find me a route around that doesn't go back through that carnival stampede."

He picked up the radio mic when a man's voice suddenly came through the radio, "Opie, Mike, get back to the crash. Turn that truck back over. See if Mark and Chato are ok, too."

"What about the car?" Came the response from a woman with a deep voice. "We can still see it up ahead."

"Leave it. That little Subaru is better on the blacktop. No way to catch it." The man said. "Get back to the crash. Use the EMT bag if you need to. That's what it's there for."

Her husband set the radio aside. He looked at her as she drove and then said, "If they have a radio like this then they can listen in on us talking to Rod. And they're really well organized. We need to keep to ourselves, babe."

"Why does everyone use the same channel?" Roberta asked in frustration.  "Can anyone see the RV from here?"

She could only hope Rod would head back to the farm and meet up with them there. They'd try to head back to the barbecue shack with the bunker as a way point, and maybe they could try and contact him later, but she agreed with her husband that getting on the radio now would only let them know they could hear them.

"No, I can't see anyone at all. Just the highway and the undead near us." He replied. "Honey, calm down. If we can hear someone talking on this radio set then their radios are similar in encryption and frequency use. They could hear us as well. Besides, that RV Rod is in has a CB radio. He couldn't hear us anyway."

He pointed to an upcoming exit, "This exit should let us turn back to the northeast. It will take us by that FEMA refugee point as well. It's doubtful anyone is still there."

"We have one of those, too," Roberta said, pointing at the other handset.  "They put in a normal radio when we were at the farm.  Try using that.

"I don't know what channel it was on when we used it in Mobile."

If they couldn't get a hold of Rod, she'd just have to hope he tried to backtrack to the farm.

He scanned the CB channels as he watched the road. Nothing of any value and no word of Rod. Some chatter between those men in trucks on the CB also filtered out of the local chatter. There was a lot of activity in the area. It seemed that there were quite a number groups trying to get to the ship or out scrounging for supplies for it.

After about ten minutes of slow driving and carefully threading their way through some discarded cars and around a small horde, the Subaru rolled up on the turnoff into the parking area of FEMA Refugee Collection Point A648. It was a tent city surrounded by tall, double row chain link fencing with pylons for spot lights and several guard towers made from a type of scaffolding. There were hundreds of cars in the parking area. Dozens of large trucks could be seen scattered about the tent city. The oddest thing was the Central Office of the compound; the Southern Force Professional Wrestling Stadium and Middle Alabama Saddlery.

"That's....unique." John said.

"Can anyone tell whether they're still operating here?" she asked, keeping an eye out for their vehicular escape route.

"The last of these at that Walmart didn't turn out too well."

If it were quiet, they might be able to stock up on a few more supplies.  They didn't have as much room in the Subaru with four people, but Roberta was happy to lose the storage space.

What they really needed was another Subaru that John could drive with one of the kids.  Too many of their eggs were in one basket.

"It looks dark mom. Like there isn't anyone here." Her daughter said. "Where could they have gone. There are so many cars. I don't see any of the creepers either."

"Yeah, this place looks deserted." Her husband added. "What do you think? Want to try to scrounge it for a few?"

"Let me get the car turned around for a fast getaway and we'll look around," she said, wheeling the car into a good position.

"Here's how we're going to do it," she said, turning off the car to look over the seat at the two teens.  "Tim sticks with me and Becky with your father.  We stay quiet and we stay in the open until we know it's safe enough to look around.

"If we see any infected walking around, we leave, period.  We're not so desperate that we can't just drive away and we don't have a lot of room in the car, anyway.

"Any house along the road will keep us going, but they might have a pile of mrees here or other portable long lasting food that we won't easily find anywhere else.  That's what we're looking for.

"No shouting, no loud noises.  If you see infected, just start back to the car and wave for the other two to follow.

"Everyone got that?" she asked, looking at the two teens and then their father.  She knew they'd been surviving on their own for weeks without her, but she couldn't help herself from being overly cautious.

She'd just gotten them back.

It took a few minutes to organize; pistols and extra ammunition, flashlights and extra batteries, empty sacks, spears and ball bats, and lastly walkie talkies with extra batteries. Roberta and Tim walked along casually. It was nice to walk along together.

The place was a combination of the obvious and the mysterious. It had been inhabited lately. Maybe a week or so judging by the build up of dust, the still clean look to many of the tents, and the pale green grass growing back up in the high traffic areas. The place didn't smell of death just rotten vegetables and stale canvas.

Why it had been abandoned was a mystery. The defenses; the walls, fences, towers, lights, etc. were intact. There wasn't any signs of battle. No corpses, or piles of shell casings, or  bullet riddled structures. There wasn't any signs of internal undead uprising either. There would be lingering undead and corpses picked clean if that had happened.

She was surprised when they came across a tent with a hand painted sign that read Kitchen 4. Meals at 8 am, noon, and 4pm. No hording, No stealing, Single meals only. She could see a crude short order line made from tables with various camp stoves, pots, and cookware. Then she noticed something that intrigued her. On one of the tables was a crate holding large naval oranges.

"Don't touch those," Roberta said quietly, pointing at the crate of oranges.  "They don't fit in and I don't like it.  They should be mush in this heat after a week.  And they're not.

"We're looking for long storage food.  Mrees and dehydrated food first, then canned goods.  Nothing that will spoil or take a lot of preparation.

"Keep your eyes peeled for anything else out of place."

Tim pulled short of a table and just sort of stared at it. Then with a smile he faced Roberta and said, "Now, that's odd. Who in there right mind leaves cans of Chef Boyarde on a table but empties cases of dehydrated clam chowder? Are these people crazy or something? Can we keep the cans? Especially the beef ravioli, huh, mom?"

Roberta smiled despite trying to seem firm in case she needed to tell him no, but she cracked a big smile. Then she noticed what he was talking about. The table in question was actually three long cafeteria tables laid out end to end that was nearly thirty feet long. She saw the cans of pasta, maybe twenty or so in all. They were sitting next to open boxes of freeze dried meals from Adventure Meals. Notably some of the better camping meals on the market before the dead rose. She could see meals like biscuits and gravy, beef stroganoff with noodles, chili mac with beef, lasagna with meat sauce, chicken dumplings, spicy southwest breakfast hash, etc. There were hundreds of the meals. All they needed was water, a fire, and about ten minutes. Each was a meal of roughly two servings; enough for a hungry person these days.

"There could have been more cans," she pointed out to her son.  "But if you're on foot, the dehydrated food is a lot lighter and you can carry more of it.

"However, we have a car.  Put five cans in two of the dehydrated boxes, top them off with more of the dehydrated, and we'll get out of here while our luck is still holding out."

She wasn't picky as she began topping off two more boxes with dehydrated meals.  They'd each carry two boxes and head back to the car.  Hopefully, they'd be able to flag down John and Becky along the way.

This was better than she'd hoped for, but there was still something creepy about the place and she just wanted to get out of there.

At the car she found John standing, watching out for them, while Becky sat in the car. They seemed to be down, sad at something they had found here. It made Roberta frown for heartbeat. This place had to hold its own terrible story and judging by the look on their faces they had discovered a small part of it.

As they approached John spoke first, "Hey, babe, looks like you found something. We found some more fuel. I topped off the tank and the gas can. We, ah, found the others."

When Roberta was close he handed her a hand written letter.

To the reader, what has transpired here was an act of mercy. Those of us who follow the path of righteousness have made the difficult decision to relieve these poor and misguided sinners of their burden. If you are reading this as a believer and true follower of our Lord and Savior Josephus, we are headed east towards the heathen capitol.

Roberta thought it odd, and false. Someone had done something to kill these people, claiming religion as a way out, yet they didn't know enough to know who their savior truly was nor the importance of Josephus in the scriptures. It was probably the lie used to set these people up. Her thoughts turned to those miscreants on the road. Then to the foragers doing crazy things to gather materials for those on that ship.

"People are worse than the infected nowadays," Roberta commented grimly.  "Let's get out of here."

They could have gone back for more, but she the place was still creeping her out.  Let the next folks who might need it more than them have it.

The worst part about the situation was that they left the food behind.  They must have already had plenty of their own food and just gone through for their screwed up belief in whatever.  Definitely folks she did not want to run into.

"Let's find a way north and west to circle back around to the Farm," she said, unloading her boxes into the middle of the back seat.  She really hoped the folks at the Farm were all right.

She'd been thinking of trying them on the radio, but with all the chatter from other groups that weren't all that friendly, she didn't want to give anyone ideas.

A half an hour later the Subaru was rolling north along a checkerboard of dirt roads and country lanes. It was slow going dodging traffic jambs here and there, the occasional undead horde, and roads mentioned by others on the radio just in case of trouble. But, they were making their way north. By late afternoon they were once again working their way up Sand Mountain, nearing the Tennessee state slowly.

"You know." John said. "We are very close to that little crossroads town with the bar-b-queue shack."

"I was hoping we might pass by again," Roberta admitted.  "It's someplace Rod might think of.

"We can spend the night and leave a message if he's not there."

They could park around back and keep an eye out for anything that may have changed since they'd last been there.  She didn't want to take it for granted that it was unoccupied with all that was going on.

She really hoped he was all right.  She'd never have made it this far or found her family without him.

Godspeed, Rod.

The Subaru pulled into the township just after sundown. Roberta killed the lights and crept the car around a few houses, businesses, and she even eased up behind a few of those large refuse containers just be sure there was nothing to fear there as well. After a half an hour of careful patrolling she pulled up to the little restaurant and parked.

They piled out like a family on a vacation trip layover. Once inside it was a quick check of the building. It was just like had been several days earlier; a generator, the concealed storage, food to eat, strong doors, barred windows, and a working bathroom.

"I think I'll throw together some dinner." John said. "There's cans of Old Appalachian Brunswick Stew, Ma' Ferguson's Mississippi Sweet Yams, and Spicy New Orleans Gumbo. I guess it could be worse."

"Sounds good," Roberta replied to her husband, thankful that the place had been undisturbed.  They could spend the night safely and leave a note for Rod that they'd made it this far.  Something coded that no one else would recognize.  Letting him know they were all right and headed back to the farm.

"Kids, get cleaned up and please," she emphasized, "stay in the building."

She went around and pulled the curtains, making sure the least light escaped the building as she could stop.  Maybe unscrew some extra light bulbs as well.  It was nice to have electricity.

She hadn't felt so civilized in some time.

---

Subaru headed back to the Farm.  Good luck.

R.

Roberta turned away from were she had pinned her note to Rod and was surprised, delightedly, by a note hanging at head level facing her.

Hey Chica, we stopped in to grab some snacks and gas, headed to the farm. Please follow on if you find this. Rod....

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Roberta said, taking down both notes.  She wondered what roads he'd taken in order to beat them there.

"It seems Rod already passed through here on his way back to the Farm," Roberta said as she climbed into the driver's seat.  "I'm glad he made it out of there in that barn he was driving."

She took the map from her husband and pointed out the location of the Farm for him to navigate.

"Something you can think about on the way, honey," she said as she fired up the engine, "is what kind of landscaping could keep out a massive horde of infected.  I'm afraid we're going to need it."

"Oh damn." Her son said, then clamped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry mom. How big of a horde. That one we had to dodge in.....sorry, again, mom. Dad is good at this."

He quickly went back to reading a Louis L'Amour novel.

Her daughter looked up at her and smiled. She understood Roberta's worries. She spoke in a calm voice when she said, "That guy Rod was good to you, momma, but he drives way to fast."

Roberta snorted, then laughed. It was true Rod has a tendency to drive faster than should. She sat down with the map and began taking more notes. It helped her focus on a task to do so, but it also kept her from roaming into the kitchen to see just how much of a mess John was making just to open some cans.

The meal was tasty, if not odd. They ate their fill and talked like it was old times. After dinner they did a quick walk. The night was warm and clear. Stars shone, the moon was rising, and there weren't any undead to be smelled on he air. They picked up some necessities at a mon-n-pops store. Munched on some scavenged candy bars at the gas station. And ran smack dab into the RV that Rod had been driving backed into a carport on their return leg around the area.

The RV was looking rough. Splattered with gore from smashing through undead. Bullet holes riddled the vehicle. Some entering the sheet metal, others exiting. A quick look inside revealed two bodies under tarps, blood stains along the bodies and the heads. There was a littering of shell casings along the floor. On a lark Roberta checked the fuel gauge; it was almost empty. It had been almost full. Rod had driven the hell out of this rolling barn.

Roberta was not happy that the last of the Walmart group had died.  Only her family was left.  They really needed to get back to the Farm.

"Let's head back and get some sleep," she said.  "I'd like to get an early start tomorrow.

"We'll block the doors with tables and empty cans so that it will make a real ruckus if anyone tries to get in."

(OOC: ok, so I suck at map creation. i will just stick to using crude google maps images. so sorry.)

Morning came as surprise. It had been days since any of them had slept through a night without some kind of complication. Roberta woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. Her daughter was asleep to her left, close enough that she could feel the heat from the girls body. Her son was sitting upright in a restaurant booth where he snuck off to so he could stay up reading comic books without disturbing the others. She noticed that the front door was open and that John was sitting in a chair near the door sipping coffee as he watched the sunrise.

Roberta felt refreshed. She lay there recalling the route in her head. From where they were she was sure they could make it back to the farm in about six to eight hours if conditions hadn't worsened between here and the farm. Normally, it would have been a drive of three hours, at best, but now she just hoped that the hordes hadn't grown in size along their route. She could try the CB radio once they got closer, maybe the farm's radio crew would here her. And then, there was the planes. Maybe they would have someone overhead as well.

Roberta slid out of the booth she'd been sleeping in and stretched.  After breakfast, they'd close the place up again and get on the road.  She was looking forward to getting back to the safety of the Farm.

The ride had been a little more treacherous than they would have liked. But, after more than a hundred miles of detours, two small fights with undead, and a completely overcooked campfire lunch the Subaru pulled up to the farm. Hands were raised in greeting. Smiles flashed at them. The Old Dame of the Farm, Alma, came out to meet them.

"I see you're still alive." She stated matter of factly. "So, I got some questions, a request, and a hope that you want to stay here with us."

"Yes, we were hoping to stay here," Roberta replied, thankful that Alma had made the offer first. "And we're willing to help out as we can.

"My husband John owned a landscaping business and I was thinking he could come up with some earthwork defenses.  We saw some truly huge groups roaming around on our way.  There's no way to fight that many off, but I was thinking they could be diverted with some berms or something.

"But we're happy to answer any questions and hear your request.

"Did Rod make it back?  We were separated along the way." She was disappointed that she hadn't spotted him already.

She also wasn't looking forward to explaining that they'd found their initial group headed for the ship, but lost them all at the fairgrounds.  And the news that the ship was a trap.

"Ok, here goes." Alma replied. Her voice had changed, she was more sincere now, more friendly. "Do you know anything about computers? We are having trouble with the one used with our radio set up. Can you tell me what's going on down south? We can hear a lot of what's said and we track a lot of what goes on down there on our maps. And, well, we are short handed as all get out. Would you and yours be willing to pitch in around here? We need help in the kitchens, infirmary, houskeeping, hell, you name it."

she caught her breath and looked at Roberta with a faint smile.

"As for your Rod, well, he was here for about three hours and immediately volunteered to make a run for medical supplies with Earl and Clementine." She said. "I told him it wasn't necessary. But, well I think he has a thing for Clem. She is a real charmer."

"Sure, we can help where we're needed," Roberta agreed without hesitation.  "And I do know a thing or two about computers."

The kids could pitch in where they could and she really wanted John to see if he could do something about diverting large groups away from the farms through landscaping.

She wasn't worried about the kids as long as their jobs were nearby and nowhere near the boundaries of the Farm.  No scavenging or scouting.

"It turned out the ship was a trap to lure survivors in with their supplies and then send them back out again for more.  But they'd send them into trouble so they wouldn't have to split the supplies with them.

"I tried to warn them over the radio, but I'm not sure what happened after that."

"Yeah, we heard. Samantha even said she thought it was you." Alma waved a girl over. "Mandy, take this family to one of the empty family quarters, please."

The girl nodded with a smile and motioned for them to follow her. Mandy led the family to a nearby structure. It was one of those prefab buildings bought at a Lowe's or Home Depot for use as a storage or out building. Once they were shown inside they realized it was now a home. There area was small, only twelve feet deep and twenty feet wide, but it was well lit by hanging lights. There were six bunks arranged about the open area. At the end of each was a foot locker. The bunks were narrow, one person beds with a pillow, sheets, and a blanket stacked on the thin mattress.

"Welcome home!" Mandy said with a flourish. "Lunch is in an hour at the big barn. Today is bacon and egg casserole, soup with leeks, onion, and carrots, and cornbread. It's one of the better meal combos here."

With the girl scampered off to do whatever she had been doing before Alma summoned her to guide them to the little house. Roberta noticed as the girl left that the door and both of the windows could be locked from the inside. A reminder that safety wasn't as sure here as she would wish.

"just because this place looks safe, doesn't mean it will always be safe," Roberta said pointedly, getting the two teen's attention.  "If you see anything, you run and tell someone, then get safe.

"Safe is either locked in here, or in the car.  Then you wait for us to find you."

Although it looked safe, she didn't really feel safe.

"Unload what you need from the car, but we'll always leave it stocked with something in case we need to run.

"I'm not trying to scare you, but I'm not going to lie to you either.  You've seen what's out there and you know what can happen.  Just always keep that in mind.

"It's your job to keep you safe.  If you think something's dangerous, don't do it.

"So let's get settled in here, and then have some lunch."

A hot lunch did sound really good.  She wondered if they had hot water.  That was second best.

After a few asks and several misses, Roberta found a man named Stanley. He was tinkering with a computer, minus the housing, at a long table while he ate a sandwich. There was a manual next to him. By the looks of it the book was a repair guide. She smirked. Maybe he hadn't done more harm than good. When she walked up to the table he looked up at her and smiled. His shoulders drooped a bit and he seemed to simply exhale away about ten years worth of stress.

"Oh, stand God." He said. "Please, we need help."

"You get points for using the manual," Roberta chided the man with a smile.  "Let me take a look while you tell me what happened.

"Did it just not turn on one day or did it die while someone was using it?"

Hopefully, he'd admit if it had been dropped or plugged into the wrong power source.

"My name's Roberta, by the way," she added.

Adding that she used to work for IBM might have set the bar too high.  She was really more of a programmer, but troubleshooting PCs came with the territory.

"Thanks, Roberta, the computer was being used when it went out." He explained. "We use it to run the little radar array. It handles all the software. It was working fine and then it went during the storm two nights back."

He looked like your typical thirty-something accountant. He was too skinny, though, to be living on a farm where everyone seemed well fed. She figured he was a worrier.

"It's probably the power supply," she said.  "The easiest way to check is to swap it out with a known good one.

"I'll try some common fixes while you think about whether you might have anything we might borrow a power supply from."

If this was their only one, or they didn't have any with a compatible power supply, fixing it would get more difficult.  Unless, of course, it was something simple like resetting or replacing a fuse.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 9 using 3d4+2.  Ingenuity Check, Fix a Computer.

"In here." Stanley said as he opened a closet door. "We keep everything closed up in here to keep it out the dust and stuff."

Roberta was surprised, glad, but surprised by the contents of the closet. It was filled with stacks of computers, computer parts, manuals, boxes with software, and accessories like speakers, monitors, and so on. In no time at all she had a new power supply in the computer. Reconnecting the computer to their little radar system was easy and allowed her give it a once over. There were a few issues with the set up, but nothing she couldn't sort out. Soon enough the radar was back online.

She sighed. The monitor immediately identified two things that made her frown. The first was storm front moving in from the west. Once that was noted she changed the settings and came across the second thing; a dense cloud moving in from the east. A cloud with a crazy EM signature. It was a cloud laced with fallout.

"Well. Damn." The words came out of Roberta's mouth without her saying them consciously.

"Has anything like this happened before?" she said, indicating the two fronts.  "I think that if they collide, we're going to get a radioactive downpour.

"I'm not a gardener, but I don't think that's good for tomatoes."

She wasn't a meteorologist, but she was hoping that if the rain intercepted the cloud before it reached the Farm, it would knock it down and keep it from the fields.  Then they'd just have to worry about runoff.

"Oh, damn." Stanley ran over to the nearest phone and to Roberta's surprise just picked up the handset and started talking excitedly. "Belinda this Stanley over at the comms cetner. What? Yes, the old prefab hanger with the orange paint, that's right. Look I need you to run down the hall and tell Alma to come over her with Gareth. We might have a real problem brewing."

He hung up and turned to Roberta and said, "Great job. It ain't never worked so well. I'd give you a hug. But, I'm worried like hell about that cloud from the east."

"You've never had any radioactive rain here before?" Roberta asked, hoping the answer was actually yes.

If they'd never been irradiated before, it would mean they probably didn't have a means of handling it.  She was pretty sure this was going to be bad news all around.

She hoped the kids hadn't emptied too much out of the car, yet.

"Ah, well, sort of." He said. Roberta stared at him, willing him to make more sense. It worked. "We had fallout drift in about a month ago. It wasn't to bad. Used a lot of water though. And we had a storm laced with fallout pass over two weeks ago. it was easier to deal with actually, but it wasn't that size."

He pointed at the monitor for emphasis. She understood his worry, however, the coming storm would drop a lot of fallout. Maybe more than could be easily dealt with. She began recalling what the survival manuals had said.

Filter particles out of the air. Cover water sources. Iodine for protecting the organs. Remove any soil over the median for radiation. How much was that again? She would have to dig up that book about surviving a nuclear war.

Roberta waited anxiously for Alma and Gareth to see what direction they would provide.  She really hoped they knew more than she did.

It took a few minutes, then the so called 'elders' showed up. Most of them were her age with the exception of Alma and old man she hadn't met before. The person who spoke surprised Roberta. It was a young man, maybe twenty years by the look of him, that stepped up to the monitor and surveyed the data about the storms.

"It seems that there is another storm coming through, of real size too." The young man said. "It's going run headlong into a sizable fallout formation too. Their speeds, relative to one another, indicates that the initial contact between these fronts should be about thirty fives miles east of us or so. But, we will see some of it. Those fallout laced clouds are heavier and will carry more mass."

He stepped back from the monitor and took a few notes in a notepad as everyone watched. He finally shrugged and sighed. Placing the notepad back in his pocket he turned to address Alma.

"We need to go to full containment and cover as much as we can." He told her. "Those fronts will collide in about ten hours or so. I don't expect much wind shift to the west but it is a possibility."

"Thanks, Roy." Alma to the young man. Turning to address everyone she went on to say, "Let's go ahead with his advice. Everyone knows what to do."

Alma stepped up to Roberta and spoke directly to her, "Your little house is a good one. No leaks. We have used during the other fallout storms to protect plants, linens, and the like. Right now I need you to go settle in with supplies for a few days. Just ask anyone for whatever you need. There are many other newbies here like you so everyone knows to help. When that is done come back here and help monitor the storm. I'll have protective clothing brought out so you can get back home once the rains set in."

She turned to walk off, stopped, and looked back.

"Thanks. I heard the radio interplay as you all went south. I know how dangerous everything was becoming. Especially after you called it out on the radio. We are going to need that mind of yours here."

With that she turned and walked off quickly.

Stanley turned to her and said, "Yeah, really, thanks a lot. I'll be sure to get some sandwiches and coffee laid in for our vigil when you return. And don't worry about your family, no one has ever died from these storms so far."

Roberta headed back to give John and the kids a heads up on what was coming.  They could help out for a while, but their final safe spot was to retreat back to their new home?  Apartment?  Quonset?  She wasn't sure what to call it yet.

Anyway, she'd get them oriented and then head back to the radar room to keep track of the storms.  It seemed she got it working just in time.

The storm rolled in later than she would have liked, nearly midnight. Roberta was tired. The thunder and lightning of the thunder storm interacted with the irradiated dust of the fallout laced clouds and what followed was a truly spectacular strobe like effect that incorporated dazzling colors and sheets of gray rain. The splatters on the window pain looked akin to droplets of mud.

After several frightening hours. The night became quiet and the rain turned clear. After a few more hours the sun began to turn the eastern horizon pink. There was a knock at the door as the watch change finally made it to the building. Roberta shook hands and muttered pleasantries but couldn't remember their names. Their faces. If they were man or woman. She just thought of the bunk waiting for her.

She and Stanley donned rain gear and opened the door to board a trailer pulled by a four wheeler. The ATV towed several others in rain gear as well. Most were reporting to a work station, but but a few were going 'home' like Roberta. Once she made to the little cabin she was so relieved she almost walked through a deep puddle.

At the door she stood under the awning and took off her rain gear and hung it outside the door. She could here the others inside moving about. Opening the door she was greeted by heartfelt tears, hugs, and hot instant oatmeal. And she was pretty sure that a bunk was calling her name.

"Hey, a guy came by and dropped off this map." John said pointing at the little folding table. "Said it was the area where you had traveled in and around Chattanooga. He asked if you could mark the areas where you met other people. I told him 'no promises' on your behalf."

Roberta nodded her thanks. Then she proceeded to wake up sometime close to late afternoon. Checking her watch it was nearly four. Whew! she thought.

She supposed John and the kids were out helping with the cleanup somewhere.  She wanted to help as well, but she was more interested in getting something to eat.  Someone would be able to tell her how things were going and if it was bad or not.

Roberta was really worried about a worst case scenario where the fields were no longer able to grow food they could eat.

Getting dressed and her boots tied up, she strapped on her leg iron and headed out.

"Leg iron," she chuckled, thinking of the automatic on her thigh as an old timey six shooter.  When had she gotten used to wearing it?  It wasn't even like she'd ever really shot it except for that one time firing blindly in the dark at the fair grounds.

She stepped out to see if the rain had stopped and headed out to find some food and an update.

The little windows of their cabin had been drawn so when she opened the door the light struck like a slap in the face. And it was hot. Of course. The air smelled of damp farm; damp soil, damp animals, damp animal dung, and, well, just damp everything. She saw people going about their business without apparent protective gear and merely put on her boots to cope with the mud.

The Subaru was in place, but the kids day packs were gone and so was John's backpack. So, where ever they were in the compound they were at least ready for trouble. That was good she supposed.

Walking over to one of the tents used as a mess hall and meeting area Roberta was surprised to see her daughter behind one of the serving tables with a taller teen-aged boy serving food to people. When she came through and received her helpings of stewed potatoes, fried ocra, and what looked like a chicken but only smaller she smiled. Her daughter was quick to give the nod. The one that said, 'not now, a boy is present, love you' while also allowing her to maintain her own dignity. Oh, too be young again.

The food was gone before she could really develop and opinion of its flavor. She overheard and older man talking about the quail. So, that was the bird. Well, hey, at least they had it to eat. Right? She was trying, desperately to let herself settle into the flow of the compound and relax. But, she was only just off the road. A road that she had spent too much time on.

After her third glass of water, Roberta stood, grabbed her stuff and head over to the radar control building. Stanley was there already and greeted her with a smile.

"Hey, Dan Collins came by." Stanley said. "Said he left you a map to mark. Something about wanting to chart where stuff was or something. Seems like you are quite experienced out there in" he made air quotes with his fingers, "Indian Country. I think he is going to ask you to help the team that goes out to search for resources."

"I did get the map," Roberta confessed, "but I haven't had a chance to do anything with it yet.  I wanted to see what happened last night with the storm.

"Is it bad?"

"There are survey teams out right now." Stanley said. "We have a few guys from the Watsbar nuclear power plant. They came from some little town near Chattanooga. Soddy or Daisy or something like that."

He handed Roberta a thermos cup. She could smell the deep, rich coffee. The cup was very warm in her hand.

"It's the good stuff. One hundred percent Colombian." Stanley said. "They were on the run from road gangs fighting for territory. Lost some people, loved ones. A group of kids got trapped down there and they couldn't get them out. Tough place to live."

"The marching band kids?" Roberta said without thinking.  "Rod and I were through there and some kids helped us out with the gangs.

"Point out the folks from Soddy Daisy to me when you see them again."

If those kids needed help, she owed them.

"In the meantime, do you have anymore computer stuff for me to look at today?"

"Sure, that'd be Matt and Jed Eckard. Brothers and engineers of a sort." Stanley replied. "I'll point them out to you soon. We have been asked to look at these."

Stanley put his hand on a box. It was an old green box with black stenciling. Military, of course. Stepping over to the box Roberta was pleasantly surprised. It was filled with small, personal radios. They were modern, high tech radios with microprocessors and complex circuits. It occurred to her that they would need to be programmed with operation codes and preset frequencies. She would need a manual.

"We need to figure out how to program them." Stanly said. He sounded dubious. Like the task was something outside his grasp. "But, I do have manuals, code books, and a National Guard training manual on their use."

"Oooh, instructions," Roberta cooed.  "Let me take a look at these while you check batteries and sort out the models."

She pulled up a chair and started to look over the manuals.  As opposed to her husband, she preferred to read the instructions first.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 12 using 3d4+2.  Ingenuity Check, radio check.

Roberta read the instructions from front to back. She got up and poured coffee into a beat up camp cup and sat down with a pen and notepad. She read through the instructions again making notes. Retrieving one of the radios, the programming module, the module's USB connector, and another cup of coffee she began reading through the instructions, improving her notes, while she worked her way through the equipment. She sat and contemplated her next moves, outlines a plan on paper, and then went and got a bottle of water and an apple from a tray on the table. She set a laptop and inserted a CD from the box that would upload a set up program for the setting up the radio programming module. More notes followed. She updated her plan. Twenty minutes later she began programming the radios with a dozen preset channels. When she had finished programming all twenty four radios she stretched her back, looked up at Stanley who just sat staring in awe while holding a copy of FM 6-02.53 Tactical Radio Communications from August 2009, and then looked at the clock. It was time for lunch.

"Damn." Stanley blurted out. "So, want to read this next?"

"We can look at that after lunch," she said, standing up with some satisfaction.  No one would be eavesdropping on these radios.

"My brain needs a break," she tucked her notes and the CD into the instruction manual for the radios.  "Just remember where these notes are if anyone needs to do that again when I'm not available."

What she really wanted was an update on how the rain might affect their food and water supply.  And see if she could find those guys that might know the marching band kids.

Roberta caught up with her husband for lunch. It was a vegetable soup of tomato, onion, potato, corn, carrot, and a touch of barley for thickness. It was flavorful. It occurred to her that the vegetable rich diet of the summer was due to the lack a good method to prepare and store the vegetables for the long term.

After explaining what she had achieved over soup and more water than she realized she wanted, Roberta was surprised to find out that John was working in a shop where the locals where fabricating the frame work for a series of greenhouses for year round gardening.

After lunch she ambled past the porch of Alma's house where the local message board was hung. She saw a menu for the week. Guard rosters and patrol schedules. Births, deaths, and birthdays. Wedding announcements. Harvest cycle and labor rosters. A few poems. And then an announcement about the storms.

'The fallout storm last night was rough! Initial readings show that we will loose about twenty two acres of corn in the north forty. That will hurt. We will slow down on alcohol products production. Namely the distillery. We will only produce about a quarter of our current fuel alcohol output. We will also curtail the production of recreational alcohol completely for the time being. Sorry, folks, mother nature just took a big bite out of our corn.'

She was glad the storm hadn't totally wiped out their farm options.  The message board was something she'd start having to check out daily.

Heading back towards her little house, she thought about picking up that map.  She could fill it out at the radio shack.  She still hadn't found out anything about the marching band kids, but expected someone would find her before too long.

The afternoon seemed to drag on after the radios. She checked and rechecked the weather, Roberta knew it was unrealistic to think another of those storms would happen again so suddenly. But, then, it had been her first nuclear powered storm.

After several hours of tedious, but needed, work de-fragmenting, partitioning, deleting, programming, and testing the computers Roberta had updated the farm compounds communications, meteorological, air traffic control, and power management systems. Such as they were. She was sitting and debating if she should challenge Stanley to game of electronic chess or simply slip in a disc and watch a movie to relax.

Then there was a knock at the door. Stanley jumped, he startled easily, it was sort of funny in that quirky co-worker way. He opened the door and had a conversation with a man of about forty for a few moments and then turned to Roberta.

"Hey Roberta, this is one of those guys I was talking about." He said. "You got a minute to talk to him about Soddy-Daisy, Tennessee?"

"Yes, please," Robert replied quickly, sitting up straight.  She really wanted to find out what was happening out there.

A tall young man lean in the way of an athlete stepped into the room, he smiled easily and said, "Hey, Roberta, I'm Matt Eckard."

He walked up to her and shook his head.

"I hope you don't mind my saying this, but it's hard to imagine a super geek like yourself surviving in the wilds of undead America like you did. That's damned impressive. The band kids. One of them is our little sister, Anna. How were they doing when you saw them. They were on a van that got hijacked from our convoy. We found the van and the three men who took it. But, the kids had high tailed it."

"Rod and I saw them maybe a week back," Roberta said.  Keeping track of time wasn't as easy as it sounded.  She'd make sure to write stuff down next time she went out.  It wasn't just her and Rod relying on what they found.  "It was before we found the Farm here.

"The kids were in good shape and told us where to camp out at the school.  We ran into some problems with a group that set up explosives at the drug store and then a bunch of them blew themselves up with our truck.

"They used the radio a lot, so you might be able to flip channels and see if they're still out there if you spend some time at it."

"That's awesome, thank you so much." Without any warning he hugged Roberta and then turned to took off. He stopped at the door as if remembering where he was. "Oh, hey, when we go back there would you mind looking over a map or two with us. Help us plan out a route or four?"

And the he was running out the door.

"He's going out to find his brother." Stanley said. "They have been planning on going back there for a couple of weeks now. Since you showed up, I think that will give them the real conformation that they needed."

"We owe those kids," Roberta replied to Stanley, "so if there's anything I can do, I'll do my best.

"Speaking of which, I should transfer my map scribbles to the map I was filling out for the Farm."

She'd grabbed her maps from the car at lunch and finally sat down to making them intelligible on the new map.  It also reminded her she needed to get a journal book for her next trip out.  Even though she'd just been called a "super geek", she was getting a little bit antsy not knowing what was going on out there.  At least she could count on Rod to keep an eye on things for a while.

This time with her family was something she thought she'd never have again and she held onto every minute of it, but it was still a dangerous world out there.  She couldn't just sit back and expect everything to turn out all right.

Her first idea was to create a solar outpost at the farm where she and Rod had fixed the Subaru.  The folks here were already familiar with it, but she thought it would be a good idea to have rally points a ways out where scouting groups could take a break if things got too rough.

It was something she wanted to propose the next time she saw Alma.

Roberta was just finishing making her notes along the margins of the map. The information was in neat little lines reminiscent of her days spent writing code. She stood, maps and apple in hand, and turned nearly walking into Alma.

It made her wonder if the old woman could read minds. She was with Matt and an older man who must have been Jed Eckard.

"Hello, Roberta, I see you have been updating some maps." Alma said. She seemed happy, almost giddy. No, excited was the word Roberta was searching for. A thought struck about the time the words came of Alma's mouth. "The brothers here are organizing an expedition to go to a little town south of here. I here you are familiar with it, and the kids they are going after. Any way I could convince you to go south for a few days. You were there, what a little over a week ago? Your help could save lives."

And, of course, she didn't imply a guilt trip. Well, maybe, not a big guilt trip.

"I'd like to, yes," Roberta said before qualifying, "but I'd like to talk it over with John and the kids first.

"I was also thinking it would be nice to have clear some rest stops further out from the Farm.  Like that house Rod and I stopped at with the solar panels.  It's where your plane first spotted us."

She was still sad about the loss.  Flying nowadays was riskier than ever with what little maintenance and repairs they could make.

She also wasn't sure how John and the kids would take it.  They'd just gotten back together and she was proposing to head back out into danger again.

Alma seemed to be suddenly lost in thought. After a few heartbeats she turned to Matt and Jed and spoke.

"Listen, fellas, this is game changer." She turned to Roberta. "Go talk to your family and then come meet me at dinner at the elder's table. We always discuss big matters at dinner every night. A new farming compound and a few fortified way stations has been on our mind for a couple weeks. We need more of everything to keep growing; land, water, stock, crops, supplies, you name it and we need it."

Roberta went in search of John and the kids, just wandering around on her way back to their little house.  She suspected they'd still be working and it would be nice to see what they were up to.

She fretted over the upcoming conversation with John.  How it was dangerous, but someone had to do it.  Setting an example for the kids to step up when there was something you could do to help.  Make good choices.

It all sounded good until you put in the part where the infected people try to eat you and the uninfected try to shoot you.  It would have made a difficult After School Special topic.

The conversation was long, but not bitter or heated. John wanted her to be sure this was something that she wanted to commit to. The kids felt is was necessity to save the band kids. Roberta wasn't sure if they were saving the band kids or simply bringing them back to save the farm. It occurred to her that he and the kids had their own history of similar events in the recent weeks. John understood where this was coming from and simply couldn't bring himself to stop her for his own sake.

It was touching.

The last thing he said about it was simple, "Babe, there's not any room for civility out there anymore. You do what you have to do in order to get back here."

"I love you ll so much," Roberta said, taking all of them into her arms for a family hug.  She remembered when the kids were just starting to be independent enough to squirm out of these, but she didn't let them this time.

It seemed like so long since they were that age.  Suddenly they were big and the world was awful.  What future did they have in a world like this?

Their future was what Roberta was going to discuss at the Elder's table that night.  Everyone's future.

Dinner was the usual affair. Those that were not on guard would come into one of the three communal dinning areas for a big meal together. TVs were set up to form an impromptu dinner theater and to allow the Elders to speak to the masses with everyone crowding into one tent. The fact that the largest tents available for these dining halls were actually funerary tents wasn't lost on anyone.

As they went through the line for a meal of green salad, corn on the cob, pinto beans, and corn bread Roberta and her family where approached by Alma.

"Hello, can I steal you away from your family for a discussion." Alma asked in a very sincere tone. "You have brought us a new hope, a renewed spirit here. The others and I would like to hear your thoughts on matters."

"Sure," Roberta agreed, putting a hand on her husband's should before leaving.  She wasn't sure how much of a new hope and spirit she'd brought.  It was just a computer and some radios.

It wasn't like she was a retired FEMA incident commander.  That's what they really needed.  Yes, she may have watched a NOVA disaster response to one of the big hurricanes, but someone trained like that would be great.

Roberta sat next to Alma at the long table. To her left was Alma's husband, Jake, and to her right was Emmet and Cassie. The other elders watched her approach with Alma and smiled at her. Once she was seat Alma spoke first.

"Roberta we have three things we need to talk to you about." Alma said. "The first is that we know you are going with the Eckard brothers. We would like for you to check on a clinic for us on the way. My sister owned a pharmacy in South Pittsburgh near Highway 24. Her husband was a prepper, I'll give you the address. She kept a lot medical supplies for events, um, like this. The second is that we would like for your husband to be part of setting up a second farm compound. He is road wise if you know what I mean. The third is, well, sensitive. We believe that the folks from Boston who took over the FEMA camp your husband fled from northeast of here near the Kentucky state line ae foraging this far out. We want to deal with them, but we don't want to let it become public knowledge, we are afraid of a panic."

"I think I can handle the first two," Roberta said slowly, accepting John could take care of himself, "but I'm not sure what you mean by dealing with the FEMA group.

"Maybe this is something Rod might be better at."

Roberta didn't think a Sudoku tournament loss would force anyone to turn away these days.  Rod was the one to blow up bridges and stuff.

She also wanted to know if Alma's sister and her husband had a recognition code or something.  If they were that well prepared, they were probably still dug in and not looking kindly on strangers at this point.

"Splendid!" Cassie said beaming a smile her way. "Please, make plans tonight and tell us what you think is necessary in the morning at breakfast."

Roberta barely had a moment to digest Cassie's words when Alma began talking as well.

"Yes, thank you." She added. "Inform John that we would like him to assist with security for the new compound. We believe your experiences out there makes him a prime candidate to know what to look out for. I will get together a map and some info about the pharmacy for you. Sadly, they passed away. And accident that claimed their lives months ago."

"I can let John know and get a list of what I think we should take with us," Roberta replied, still unsure of how to deal with the FEMA group.

However, the first thing she'd need to do would be to find the Eckards and put together a packing list.  She really wanted to take the Subaru, but if she and John were leaving the kids here, she wanted to make sure they had a loaded vehicle of their own to rely on in case of an emergency.

She'd want to plan for 2 weeks on the road.  Extra gas and water containers, another hand crank gas pump if they had one as she wanted to leave the kids one, and vehicles enough to carry the band kids and whatever they were picking up at the pharmacy.  She'd also want some hand radios and a long range to reach back to the Farm.  A medical kit and binoculars.

She'd let the brothers figure out the firepower.

John was excited about the new project. It would give him a new purpose. And the thought of teaching the kids to do something other than simply survive at all costs had its appeal. He would manage to find some 'special' alone time with Roberta that night.

In the morning Roberta would awaken to a bright morning, a cup of hot instant Sanka, and Matt and Jed Eckard sitting in folding chairs near her front door. Stepping out onto the little porch she was greeted by smiles and a pair of 'good morning' greetings.

Cup in hand, Matt stood and turned slightly to indicate an Old Pontiac station wagon. It was from the mid-80s but it looked to be in excellent condition. On top there was a luggage rack with rows of odd shapes under a tarp lashed down with a dozen bungee cords. Both men were clad in mismatched camouflage clothing and bore several knives and pistols each.

"We have food, water, ammunition, weapons, radios, batteries, medical supplies, bedding, maps, tools, spare tires, rain gear, lighting, ropes, and a pile of empty sacks." Matt told her. "Alma told us about stopping at her sister's place on the way back here."

"We have seating for a lot, but we have the things we need to get another vehicle or two rolling also." Jed added. "There were close to twenty kids left behind. So, we are likely to need more room to bring everyone home."

"The main chow hall is going to open up a little early just for us." Matt continued on talking. "Alma will be coming in to say good bye and hear any last minute ideas or rants you have."

"Well let's get something to eat and then say our goodbye's," she said, dumping her own bag into the back seat of the car.

She had some spare clothes, maps, extra mags for the sidearm she'd only fired once, her spear, and the little handheld radio the kids had last contacted her on.  She'd replaced the batteries and copied down the setting, but she was hoping to pick up some chatter once they got close as it had also been the gang's main channel.

There weren't any last minute thoughts she had for Alma, but she wanted to make sure she had some really big hugs for John and the kids before she left.

It was turning out to he a fine morning. She had spent some time with the kids and John at breakfast. Alma was full of colloquial humor that helped with the stress that was slowly beginning to build. It was that life on the road.

Sitting in the back a the back the station wagon as it rolled along smoothly. The windows were down but there wasn't a strong scent of death on the air this morning. She knew that was misleading, but it nice just the same. Oh, sure, they dodged undead here and there as they threaded their way back to the south. Around traffic jambs, accidents, battle grounds, hordes, and suspicious sight they went. It was slow, painstakingly slow.

They had made it as far as the first exit off of highway 24 in the southern foothills of Monteagle Mountain, only a dozen miles from that horrid Walmart at Kimbell, Tennessee. It was an overpass threaded by on old two lane state road. There was a large log cabin, home to Webb Brothers Cabins and More, a aging Shell station that hadn't sold a drop of gas in nearly thirty years, and an old 30's era box home with quilt covered windows and a old chimney that leaked thin trails of smoke from a dozen places.

Up the highway, less a quarter mile, the backs of thousands of southbound undead moving slowly, very slowly away form them. Maps came out as the car pulled to a stop at the top of the ramp up from the highway.

"Wait it out or try to go around." Jed ask them from the driver's seat.

"We can plot a course, but let's see if there's anything on the radio," Roberta suggested as she turned on the little hand held first.  She'd cycle through their radios and the channels on the bigger radio to see if there were any clues.

She wasn't calling out, just listening.  They generally left the big radio connected to the car battery on while the car was running, but anything with batteries only came on now and then when they were on a hill or somewhere that might pick something up.  It was a long shot when you only turned them on for 5 minutes at a time, but it was a trade off with how many batteries they had.

Looking at the map, she pointed out that they didn't want to accidentally get in front of them.  If they could swoop in and out, that would work, but they needed to leave themselves an exit plan.

Roberta was sweeping through the frequencies from her notes. She was hoping for a little luck and when she was about to shut down the radio serendipity struck.

"..copy that, kilo six. We are about two miles from the city limits. Baker two tells me that he used to live here. Chattanooga had pretty in depth metro road network." There was a slight pause. It made her think the man was talking to someone. "He says that its going to be rough going. If those gangs are dug in along Dayton Boulevard into Soddy Daisy then we could get cut off. How copy? over."

A women responded almost immediately saying, "Good copy Baker six. Ask Baker two if he knows a work around. Those undead along highway 153 are migrating to the west again. They will be blocking off our access to highway 27 soon. Over."

A moment later Baker six responded, his voice sounded strained like he was walking while talking, "Kilo six, be advised Baker two thinks we should pull back as far as Signal Mountain Road in highway 27. I agree with him. I know it puts us well back from north Chattanooga and highway 153, but it also leaves us the option of using the river if things go south again. Over."

"Baker six,........." the signal faded into static as the conditions in the ionosphere or on the ground near Chattanooga changed.

"Wow, that sounds precarious." Matt said. "Maybe we could go over the mountain. We can take Griffith Highway, exit of of 75 before the river and head all the way in until it crosses highway 111. Turn right and over the mountain near Soddy Daisy."

Jed looked back at Roberta while she was checking her notes. It was nearly the route Rod guided them along on the way north when they fled from Soddy and the gangs before.

Roberta followed the proposed route on the map with her finger and pursed her lips.  It wasn't a bad route and she was roughly familiar with it.  Absently, she wrote the new frequency on the edge of the map and added Kilo and Baker beside it with the time and date.  She also used a different color on the map to indicate where she thought they were with an appropriate annotation.

"All right," she finally agreed, "let's give it a try.  They sounded like military on the radio, but you don't know what their goals are nowadays.  It was the military that bombed our own cities."

A shiver ran down her back as she thought about how they'd probably justified what they were doing.  They'd almost blown up her family.  There had to have been a better way.  A smarter way.

"If you find a good vantage point where we can look over the town, stop and we'll take a look and check the radio again."  She felt a little bad about it, but if the radio folks got into it with the gangs, they might be able to sneak in the back to look for the band kids.

"Hey," she added as an afterthought, "if you see a cell tower that's easy while we're out and about, point it out.  I'd like to see what they have in those little buildings of theirs."

She was wondering if they had anything useful and whether she might be able to get one of them near the Farm working.  It would be a lot more secure than their radios.  They'd probably have to hit up a major brand cell phone store as well as she thought they might have the proper SIM programming equipment and manuals there.  Always read the manual.

Roberta was sitting in the back of the car for another two hours of dodging undead, side tracking around road blocks, and bypassing troublesome looking areas. Roberta was about to the point of telling the brothers to pull over at the next tree so she could relieve herself when she spotted a cell tower in the background.

Pointing out the towering structure, she had Jed divert from their course over to the tower. It was on a hill, just behind a small farmhouse. But, it would seem all of the farmland had been sold long before to make room for the tower. And of course, there was the customary little boxlike building. It was inside a chain link enclosure but it looked long deserted.

Jed got out and stretched his legs, and took a look around. Matt stood on top of the car to keep look out. Without a doubt there would undead that had seen or heard them and were shambling in the car's direction now. It wasn't lost on Roberta that the brothers were studiously paying attention to everything but her so she wouldn't have to wonder off to take care of her bladder's immediate need. It was a nice gesture.

Roberta used her spear to pry the lock open and went into the enclosure. Once there a quick trip around the corner took care of nature's call. Back at the door she was disappointed to find it locked. And solid as she could imagine. A little ingenuity was called for. And it came in the form or a chain, a hook, and a V8 powered station wagon. And the door came open.

inside she found a set of metal stairs leading down into the dark unknown, lockers for tools, maintenance logs, and enough top end computers and electronics for a college lab.

"There's more in here than I expected," Roberta told the two as she returned to the car for her flashlight.  "Give me 5 minutes to look around."

She'd been expecting a few switch racks, a fiber optic connection to the main trunk, some battery backup, and a generator setup, but this seemed like... way more.  Especially as it looked to be more than one level.  Unless they'd stumbled on a major routing hub of some kind, this wasn't what she thought a normal cell tower setup would look like.

"Hello?" she called down the stairs while she flashed her light down.  She really wasn't expecting anyone to reply or even to hear a shuffle of infected feet, but this wasn't the time to lose focus.

Roberta made her way down the stairs. The area in the lower levels was a combination of add-ons and reworks. She came across an old backup generator. Then there were racks of servers. A chiller unit with a thermostat. More computers, older and not hooked into anything. More tools, boxes of fiber optic cable, co-ax cable, and so on. Then it hit her. This was a founding tower. Old, early days of the network. It was probably as old as she was, at least.

It was lot. A lot to take in, and a lot to make use of.

Then she found body. It was a man of about thirty or so. He was wearing mechanics coveralls from John Mark Body and Paint in Culver City, Utah. That was a good walk from here in Tennessee. He was wearing the usual survivor kit; a belt of pistol, ammo, knife, binoculars, canteen and a vest with flashlight, tools, maps, compass, notepad, more ammo, some odd bits of food, and more water. She checked him over closer and saw that he had a bite on one shin that had become severely infected. Blue veins that could be seen under the skin from the septic infection.

Roberta clucked her tongue. Blood poisoning was a nasty way to go. She looked to his head. There was single gunshot wound. Looking around she found a small revolver under the corpses side from where the body had fallen on the weapon at death. He knew what would happen when he died, so he made it impossible to come back as one of them. Roberta stood up and wrinkled her nose. Not from the smell, but the mystery. The man couldn't have been dead that long.

Why was he here? How did he get here? What was he looking for down here? Who locked the door and gate behind him? Wait, where was he standing when he got bitten?

Roberta spun back towards the stairs with her spear point out in one hand and the flashlight scanning the treads.  It was stupid, but she just hadn't been down many stairs since it all started.  In all the movies, the bad guys grab you through the treads on your way down into the basement.

Peering intently through the stairs, she hoped he'd finished whatever it was before finishing himself.  If it ever came to it, she hoped she'd observe the same courtesy as he had.

Now was the time she hoped that making noise before entering prevented them from hiding their presence.  It would be really bad if they were getting smarter.

The light played around the scaffolding. Nothing, well, there was an odd break in the floor that she soon realized was an opening with a ladder running down about twenty feet at a guess. There was a solid floor below.

Sniffing to be sure, all she could detect was the faint scent of decay from the dead man. Not any of the lingering stench so common to the undead after several weeks of ripening up. The ladder wasn't very wide but it was permanent. It had one of those weird safety things. Like a series of metal rings around the ladder to prevent someone from falling away and out of reach of the ladder. That was good sign. It was built by some corporation according to OSHA standards. This wasn't some redneck add-on survival shelter.

Looking about more slowly along the walls she found what she was looking for. A sign read sump pumps, cistern, and secondary access tunnel. There was an arrow pointing down.  As and afterthought Roberta scanned the interior one more time and found no signs of undead. No hand prints, foot prints, blood splatters, body parts, bits of filthy clothing, etc. She was pretty sure this guy had ended his own life.

But why was he left to die? Why wasn't that wound treated? Who had locked him in here? And would they just leave all of his gear here? What were they doing here anyway? More questions tossed through her thoughts.

A gunshot from outside brought her back to the moment. Then two more. The brothers were engaged with someone. Something, she had no doubt the undead had wondered up close. But how many? Did she have time to look around more?

"Roberta!" One of them screamed from up top, probably near the door. "Roberta hide!"

The door slammed shut, hard. The echo lingered for several seconds. From outside came more muffled gunshots. Then more.

"Hide?" she said aloud in confusion.  It wasn't what she'd expected to hear so it must have been bad.

She quickly rifled the dead man's pockets for keys and grabbed the notebook, map, and any loose papers the man had and stuffed them into a cargo pocket.  Then she made for the sump access.  Secondary tunnel sounded like a possible way out, and possibly the way this man had gotten in.

As she descended while trying not to get her spear tangled in the safety cage or ladder rungs, she worried about the brothers.  She kept losing people and she really hoped they made a run for it.  And she really wished she'd brought one of the radios so she could tell them to, but they were all in the car along with her maps and notes.

This was only supposed to be a quick in and out to see what the inside of a cell tower looked like, and now it was way more than that.  And now she realized she didn't have any food or water, but she didn't want to spend the time going back and grabbing what the man had.  Something bad was going on up there and she wanted to put as much distance as she could between it and her.

Roberta made he way down into the bottom of the structure. She quickly came to find the plaques on the walls that told the story of this place. It was old civil defense bunker from 1962. It must have been acquired with the land rights to build here back in the mid eighties, there was definitely computers and networking components on the shelves above from that era.

Stopping to take a look around she soon found the access to the secondary tunnel. It was partially open. Opening that door was like opening a can of darkness. Her flashlight shone like a little sun in such deep dark. The tunnel was small, maybe a yard wide and two yards tall. Roberta had to keep her spear level before her. The walk was reassuringly short, two hundred eleven paces. As she recalled her pace count like that old sheriff had taught she had walked right around two hundred fifty yards. Likely a little under.

The door that she came to was a heavy steel affair. It reminded her of a vault door only a lot smaller. Twisting the rotary handle it clicked open after several rotations retracting the locking bolts. It came open with sharp tug and coasted to the wall where it struck with a solid thunk. The light coming through the door was suddenly brighter than she remembered. And the midday heat struck like malicious thought. Immediately she began getting hot, at least now she didn't stink of nervous sweat.

The door opened into a field on slope with a paved drive up to it. It looked like it was in the middle of nowhere until she recognized a few landmarks and realized she was simply east of where the tower was. Ascending the hill, she spotted the tower in no time and could see that she was indeed around two hundred and fifty yards away from it. If not a little under.

There was a motorized bicycle laid on the ground on the reverse slope of the hill ahead of her. It was a mountain bike with what looked like a gas powered motor from a leaf blower or a weed trimmer. The gas tank was a tape wrapped milk jug. There was a backpack near the bicycle.

"The bike and pack were probably from coverall man," she thought as she quietly closed the door.  She then slowly crawled up the hill to see if she could hear or spot what was going on at the shack.  She really hoped the brothers had taken off.

Roberta swallowed hard. The base of the hill where the tower stood was veritable sea of undead. She could still here shooting coming from further away. She couldn't see the car, nor hear it. But, she hoped the brothers were making a get away. She could see abck into the little community behind the tower. It was a rural farming area, but this close to Chattanooga seemed to have put in the path of migrating undead.

Roberta scanned her immediate vicinity to make sure there weren't any creeping up on her and then tried to gauge their direction.  Backing down to the bike, she tried to figure out how to turn it on.  It might make enough noise to draw a good number of them away from the tower.

If she could get it started, she'd grab the backpack and then climb back into the tunnel to secure the door.

Roberta primed the engine and yanked the pull cord several times before the engine fired up. It was anti climatic. The engine wasn't that loud. She would have to try something else for distraction. But, the little machine did work.

"That was anticlimactic," Roberta said, staring down at the droning machine in disappointment.  Not a good distraction in and of itself.

With a sigh, Roberta put on the backpack and climbed aboard the bike to figure out how to make it go.  Maybe it got louder under load and she could zip around behind them for a few passes to get their attention before retreating to the tunnel again.

She also kept an eye out for an escape route if they got a little too feisty and cut off her tunnel access.

It soon occurred to Roberta that the little engine could power the bicycle along with her and the backpack. But it was slow. She figured it was running in the neighborhood of ten miles per hour. Not bad for traveling. But slow what she really had in mind.

Looking around she spotted the car. It was in ditch at steep angle with two wheels off the road. There was a horde of undead, maybe a hundred or so, banging away at the doors of a house about two hundred meters away. She had no doubt that the Eckard brothers were there.

Puttering up a ways behind the group, Roberta checked her surroundings and exit route before shouting at the house.  She was wearing the backpack and had her spear stuck in the pack's straps sticking up.  Fine unless she tried to ride under anything with a low clearance.

"Stay put!" she shouted.  "I'll find a truck and come back to pull the car out!  Try to make spears to pick them off through the windows!  Stay quiet!"

Granted, shouting to stay quiet was a little hypocrtical, but men liked to shoot guns and make a lot of noise.  She'd learned that much from riding around for weeks with Rod.

Turning her little bike back in the direction of the highway, she puttered off in search of a truck big enough to pull the car out and run over whatever the brothers left for her.  She really wished she'd had Rod show her how to steal a car properly, but she'd figure it out.

Roberta rode around on the bicycle. It was quiet, and with a little pedaling to help out it could go pretty fast. She was sure she was hitting around twenty miles per hour sometimes. The undead didn't notice her until she was really close or went shooting past. It handled well and made her remember better days when biking around was the thing to do.

She found several trucks, mostly four wheel drive models, but most simply lacked fuel. Whomever had been through the area before left nothing behind them. She even tried checking other vehicles for fuel. All she found was a propane tank for a gas grill. Checking to see what the fuel the little homebuilt cycle used she was disappointed to learn that is used two cycle small engine fuel; gas mixed with two-cycle engine oil. How long would that last. There was about half a gallon in the tank and another near gallon strapped to the frame to refill from.

Roberta looked around to see if there was an obvious direction that might have more truck options or houses.  A garage might have a can of gas for a lawnmower left lying around.

Also, if the coast looked clear around her, she turned off the little engine and shucked off the backpack.  Time to see what she had in case of emergency.  She also wanted to see what was on the notepad and map coveralls had.

While she looked at what she had, she looked around periodically for infected.  She'd take down a few individuals with her spear if she needed to, but didn't want to tussle with any groups.

Roberta grabbed the brakes and came to a screeching halt. About half a block up a rode with some really old row houses along both street sides there was a house with a tractor siting on a trailer. It was lashed down like it was ready to be moved but the trailer was not coupled to a truck to haul it. There was a number of round, square, and rectangular shapes under tarp just in front of the tractor. That looked a little promising she thought.

Roberta rode slowly toward the tractor as she carefully looked around.  About half way to the tractor, she circled back out to see if anything had been drawn into the open.  If it were clear, she circled back in all the way to the tractor and then all the way back out again.

She was all alone at the moment with no backup, so she was being extra careful.  If it were clear, she'd check on what was under the tarp.  She only needed a couple gallons to get one of those trucks started.  She'd just have to make sure whether it was diesel or gas and choose an appropriate truck.

under the tarp Roberta was surprised to see the needs for a group headed out to work fields. Boxes for packing produce in. A cooler full of look warm, but lean water. Several picker's bags for carrying harvested produce in. Some pruning shears, a few hawk bill knives, and a pair of shovels.

She was let down. There wasn't extra fuel. It must he kept on the truck that was supposed to haul this thing. Checking the tractor she was surprised to find a key in the ignition. Twisting the key the dash lit up, so the tractor had a charged battery. The fuel gauge read three-quarters. Turning the switch to the off position she clambered over to the side of the tractor and checked the tank. The smell of gasoline smacked her in the olfactory sense like a brink in the forehead.

A tractor might actually be better than a truck to pull the car out.  It might also be better at running over infected.

With a last look around at her surroundings, she climbed back up and looked to see if there were any labels on levers, dials, and switches that might lead her to believe she could successfully use the tractor.

It was probably going to be a lot louder than a truck, though.  She wasn't sure if that was good or bad, yet.

OOC: Is this an old school open tractor with the big rear wheels and dual front wheels close together?  Enclosed cab?  Bucket attachment on the front?

Satisfied she'd be able to figure out how it worked as it didn't have any attachments, Roberta climbed out and threw the backpack into the cab.  It was a big tractor and there was plenty of room for her and the pack.  She also stuffed in the cooler of water bottles from the front of the trailer.  One of the tie down chains would also be good to stuff in the cab for pulling the car out.

The bike, however, was a different story.  If she didn't receive any unwanted company before she'd finished, she'd try to strap it to the back with some tie downs from the crates.  Banging the heavy chains around had to make enough noise to draw something's attention.

In the meantime, she hurriedly unhooked the chains and hold downs that secured the big tractor to the trailer.  It was a big modern tractor with 4 huge wheels that must have 4 wheel drive.  Even if she couldn't get it to go straight, she didn't think a car or two was going to stop it.  It was more of a behemoth than the army truck she'd driven into the guardrail.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 7 using 3d4.  Serendipity Check, tractor unloading.

Roberta found the tech manual and was glad to see the tractor had very straight forward controls and equally straight forward operational instructions. A good tech writer did this, she thought. She set the throttle and fired up the engine. Letting the V8 heat up as advised in the booklet.

With the ramp set for the tractor to roll free she had a bit of success and one failure. The tractor rolled off faster than she anticipated was possible when he hit the accelerator. The trailer was parked a on slight down slope, a driveway actually, and the speed and size of the tractor caused the trailer to bounce to the rear, hard. There was a smash-clang of metal. Her first fear was that every undead from Tennessee to California would be headed towards her now. Instead, when she pulled up alongside the trailer she noticed that the front struts were severely bent upwards. The trailer would no mount behind a pickup truck without repairs.

Busting up the trailer wasn't a big deal, although, now that she thought about it, the tractor might come in handy back at the farm.  Something this big with a mean attachment on the back could just roll back and forth through a herd stopping thousands of them.  Fuel might be the only constraint.

It was something to think about later.  As well there were probably a lot of big tractors closer to the Farm they could use as herd busters.

In the meantime, she challenged the tractor's turning radius and headed back towards the house and the ditched car.

Roberta thought she was getting better at driving, but the heavy farm tractor wasn't really meant for driving on roads littered with derelict vehicles.  She kept having to stop and back up whenever she got too close to something.  As big as the tractor and it's wheels were, she was worried about tearing a hole in one of them.

On the plus side, she stopped paying attention to the wandering infected because they were no match for the tractor's giant tires.  Although, she could still hear the horrible crunching of bodies over the roar of the engine.  She may not have been able to feel them through the multi ton tractor, but it was still more than disquieting.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 8 using 3d4.  Serendipity Check Tractor driving.

Roberta had a bit of good fortune come her way, the tractor allowed her to climb over somethings that had been an obstacle to her powered bike. Soon enough she was at the site of the station wagon stuck in the ditch. Pulling up close to the stuck car she could see a pile of crushed undead under the front end.

Getting out to see about hooking up to the car to pull it free, Roberta spotted undead moving towards her location from several directions. The tractor drew attention easily so she couldn't linger here too long. There were heavy duty webbing tow straps in the station wagon that she could use to secure the car to the tractor to pull it out of the ditch. Off in the distance she heard gunshots again. This time it was further west, a lot further. The brothers seemed to have been moving steadily west this whole time.

Roberta had thought they'd just stay in the house and wait for her, but they must have had other ideas.  Giving up on the station wagon for the moment, she climbed back into the tractor and headed in the general direction of the shots.

Ideally she'd stay on flat grades and open fields in her pursuit.  She wasn't about to try snaking through the woods with this monster.  As she jockeyed it around, she tested to see if it had some kind of horn she could use to let them know someone was coming.

The blast of the air horn was unexpectedly loud. It was mounted to the top of the cab and startled her when it fired off over her head. The undead in the area, for nearly sixty yards, took noticed when the horn sounded. As if the tractor wasn't making enough noise as she negotiated the streets and yards as she crossed the little area towards the scene of the fighting.

She was surprised at the number of bodies, on the ground as a result of the brothers' aggression and the number of undead still in pursuit of the pair. It occurred to Roberta that in order to get any closer she was going to have to roll over the undead, or at least several hundred of them.

Roberta had no qualms about running over the infected.  It was still disconcerting, but better than having to shoot them one by one.  She almost felt like she was starting the composting process by churning them into the ground.

It was a different kind of sound. The tractor was loud, but not loud enough to cover the crunch. She wondered for a moment if the tires were safe from punctures by bone until she accidentally ran over low road block and crushed what looked like a tall HAM radio tower laid on its side as a blocker for the undead. The tractor didn't seem to notice.

When she neared where she thought the brothers were fighting from she slowed and honked a few times. It was an old two story 'cracker box' style home. From a second level window a man's face suddenly appeared. He wasn't one of the Eckard brothers. He waved as if waving her off and shouted at her.

"Go on. Lead the away from my home!" Was all she managed to make out. The man ducked back inside and soon there were more gunshots. Gunshots from multiple weapons.

She was now a little confused about where the brothers might be.  Had they stayed back at the first house near the car after all?

Whatever the case, she figured she'd help the guy out as he wasn't shooting at her and pulled away in the direction he'd indicated.  She was actually looking for a field where she could drive around in circles to run them over.  She could probably back over them, but she didn't like the idea of accidentally hitting something or rolling into a ditch and getting stuck.  Forward was the direction for her.

She honked her horn a few more times like a tour conductor to let them know which way they were going.

"We're walking, we're walking," she chanted as she tried to coax them away.  "Oops, we're stumbling, we're getting up, we're walking again..."

Roberta looked back and felt equal parts pied piper and sacrificial lamb. There were hundreds, possibly a few thousand, undead following in her wake. As an afterthought, fear did that sometimes, she checked the fuel gauge again. It was still half full. How far could this thing ride on that?

The tractor had some really impressive cross country capabilities. She was able to climb hills, cross ditches and fallen trees, and she even managed to roll over the front end of a wrecked sedan. But, no matter where she went the trailing undead never gave up. Soon enough she had lured more than she would have thought could have been hidden in the little farm town into broad field.

Once into the broad field, she tried to remember how Zamboni drivers refinished the ice at a hockey rink with the least amount of overlap.  She was a little afraid of spinning the tires if she made too big a pile of them in one place and wanted to squash them evenly over the field in order to avoid it.

She really wondered what kind of farm attachment would have been the best for this.  She could almost imagine one of those hay balers packing them up into big blocks of arms and legs like some Halloween decoration that was a little too realistic as it dropped their twitching bales back onto the field.

Way too realistic.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 6 using 3d4.  Serendipity Check, Tractor not stuck!

Roberta was surprised to realized that she could change direction much faster than the undead could adjust for. Soon enough she was running large angles and running over the edges of the horde. It was sickening. Under the big tires the bodies broke in odd and disgusting ways.

It took a few hours to run down the undead. The field looked like someone had simply dropped a thousand people from the sky. The bodies didn't look dead so much a just broken. The smell was terrible, she wouldn't be eating anytime soon. She had burned a lot of fuel, however. And the sun was low in the west, at least four in the afternoon. She drove over to the road again.

There was a sign hanging on the outside of the two story house that read 'thank you, we are headed south, there is a boat there for survivors'. She cringed reflexively. Driving over to the car she was able to nudge it out of the ditch and into a yard along the road. The smell of the wheels was beginning to get to her. Walking off a few yards to get into the breeze for a breath of fresh air Roberta stretched and happened to look to the east.

Along a ridge line, at least a quarter mile away, she spotted to people hustling over the apex of the ridge. There was a stumbling horde on their tail, but owing to the terrain the people would easily make distance in the ridges to the east. But she couldn't tell who those people were.

Roberta didn't know how she kept losing people and hoped the two brothers were just misplaced.  Rod must have been an anomaly to have stuck with her so long.  Was she really that bad to travel with?

Looking around to ensure she wasn't about to be surprised, she grabbed the cooler and pack from the tractor and checked the car for notes in case they'd left a message.  She'd stow the gear in the car and check the house where she'd originally thought they were.  She wanted to see if there were any more recent notes or signs there if they'd had to change their plans.  She'd take her spear and make some noise once she was in and in a good position to see if there were any inside that needed to be cleared.

Some canned goods in the kitchen might come in handy if there were any.

The bike on the back of the tractor was also something she needed to transfer to the car once she'd finished with the house.  It was a good backup plan that was pretty quiet and could snake through stalled traffic.

Roberta was pretty sure that the man and whomever had been living in the house with him had been here for sometime. Most likely it had been their home before the dead arose. Inside she found bottled water. A homemade station to process collected water with High test hypochlorite. There were boxes of twenty packets of pool shock stacked in a hallway nearby under plastic sheeting. She recalled that someone had once told a group she was in that the HTH in pool shock was best put into water because water put into pool shock created chlorine gas. And that was bad.

She found a cleverly modified washing machine that had been set up to use an exercise bike as a form of motive power. Clean clothes, stay fit, and keep relatively quiet while you do so. Not bad, not bad at all. In the kitchen she found a dehydration station made from a old up turned garbage can and a dish grill. The racks were a series of oven racks and there was a three inch pipe used for a chimney.

There were signs of hastily packed food and an open gun safe with several empty long gun slots and several knocked over boxes of ammunition. The bedrooms had two unmade beds and open window covered with several layers of screening across the entire window frame. That was logical, kept the undead from noticing movement during the day and allowed air to flow. And it kept the mosquitoes out.

After a complete walk through Roberta wound up back in the kitchen when the horn on the station wagon blared. Once her heart started beating again Roberta peered out of a triple screened window to seen the brothers. Jed was at the car looking up at the house. Matt was checking out the gore covered tractor and smiling like a kid in a candy shop.

"Hey, Roberta, come on down!" Jed yelled up at the house.

Roberta heaved a sigh of relief at seeing the brothers again.  She really didn't want to be on her own.  Carefully closing the door when she left, she rejoined the two at the car.

"Where did you two disappear too?" she asked with a smile.  "Every time I thought I'd caught up with you, it turned out to be someone else."

It was probably too late to get back on the road today and this was now a safer place than anything else they'd probably find, so she proposed they stay in the house for the night.  First, however, she wanted to have the two make sure there wasn't anything busted up on the car.  They could see if any of the ammunition inside was any use to them later.

She also wanted to grab some manuals from the cell bunker.  Particularly anything about stand alone operations and any process for linking cell towers.  She wasn't any kind of engineer, but this stuff was already built and just needed to be booted up and linked to one another.  Software was something she could definitely do and reading material for the road would pass the time.

First, though, they had a band party they needed to get to.

"We were working in circle leading more and more of them shamblers into tight terrain. The create choke points and get stuck and slowed to the point of losing the chase." Matt said. "Nice tractor, too."

"Yeah, we were doing pretty good until the undead began just wondering away." Jed added. "You did really good, well, you did very well with that tractor. We tried to get those two who fled to stop. But I think all that we did was manage to chase them off. Maybe we can leave a note and hope they make it back soon."

"I'll get some things from the car. Want some tomato and cheese sandwiched with some Mrs. Anderson's vegetable soup?" Matt was already moving off to the station wagon as she recalled the soup. "We have ten quarts of it canned."

"Soup is good," Roberta replied.  "And there's some food inside, too.

"I figure we'll stay here for the night.  We can make sure the car wasn't damaged and I'd like to grab some books from the tower.  It looks like it might be some kind of first generation cell tower that I think I might be able to get up and running as a stand alone tower.  Probably not this trip, though, but I want to get some of the manuals to read on the road."

"So, I'll bite, who would we talk to?" Jed asked.

"Soup's on." Matt said as he set bowls onto a small table. "I found some canned ham, its salty but it'll do."

"We talk to us," Roberta replied to Jed as she stirred her soup.  "If this tower can act as a switching hub, we can bring up our own secure cell network for the Farm.  We wouldn't have to rely on radio and no one could listen in or know we're around.  Plus, we'd have better range as we expanded.

"The only problem is maintaining a string of towers without anyone bustin' 'em up."

"Sounds good." Matt said as they all sat. "Ah, a quick word. Dear Lord, thanks for the food, for the company, and letting make it through another scrape. Amen. Ok, let's eat."

"Thanks, Matt." Jed said as the trio began their dinner. "I think that would be a great idea Roberta. On the way back with the kids. If none are in need of medical attention then we stop and see what you can do with that old tower. As far others interfering, I wonder just how many people would even think of it."

"That's what I'm hoping for," Roberta agreed.  "If they don't hear a generator, they'll never think twice about looking at cell phone towers.

"Though, depending on the power requirements, any solar we scrounge up might be attractive to folks if they come out this way."

It looked like they had a plan and would be back on the road in the morning.

During the night another horde of undead passed through the town waking them with a cacophony of banging and thumping as the shambling horrors stumbled into cars, fences, garbage cans, mailboxes, and everything else along their path. It took several hours before the smell faded in their wake. There was a discussion of getting in a nap in the morning but once the sun began to rise none of them found sleep easy in coming.

"We are substantially low on ammunition after yesterday." Jed said. "Matt and I opened a warehouse that someone had turned into a walking corpse motel. Must have been a thousand of them in there."

"Yeah, and there were several hundred in the area as well." Matt added. "We saw the warehouse just down from where you went in the tower at. Jed went to check for extra fuel, opened the door, and wham the smell hit him. As he turned away and fought off the urge to blow groceries everywhere several of those things rushed him. Going to guns was just safer in the moment."

"Sorry we left you in a lurch." Jed told her. "And thanks for not giving up on us. Let's load up. With any luck we can slip into Soddy Daisy by lunch."

"There was some ammunition here in the house, but I'm not sure if it was something you could use," Roberta pointed out.  "We'll just have to keep an eye out for some outlying farms that might have something to scrounge as we go."

She checked the radios as they pulled out to see if there was any chatter on the channels she monitored and just flipped through the others to see if she got lucky.

The radio was quiet. The chatter was down today. There wasn't an alarming number of undead along the highway over the mountain. Matt drove while Jed kept watch out for trouble. The pace slow and they stopped frequently to check abandoned cars and houses near the the road. Or simply to allow a small horde to pass without further incident.

Hours passed, where a single hour would have normally sufficed, but they were able to locate a little more ammunition and several paperbacks to pass out among the children. The sun was sinking in the west when the station wagon rolled into the city limits. Guiding the brothers into town Matt parked the car in front of the pharmacy that had served as the first place she had met the children. It was burnt out now. Someone had painted up a crude sign that read 'this is Black Fire territory, all else pay taxes'.

Someone else had painted a line through the sign and hung a Soddy Daisy High School Band banner over the edge of the sign.

"Well, damn." Jed said. "That's impressive."

"The band kids stick together," Roberta said with a smile.  "Let's head for the high school gym to see what shape it's in.  It's where the kids let us stay the last time Rod and I were here.

"And keep an eye out for another vehicle we can salvage to get everyone out of here."

Now that she was back again, she wondered if the kids would really come with them.

"And let me know if you see a cell phone store.  I'd like to grab a few things."

Driving back through the combined small towns towards the old high school gym, Roberta was suddenly slid sideways in here seat when Matt suddenly stopped the station wagon. Looking up in fear and frustration she followed Jed's outstretched hand and saw the sign; Verizon.

It in the middle of a strip mall of seven businesses. Great Clips, Aaron's Furniture, Bosco's Liquor, Asia Spring Noodles, Verizon, Ann's Boutique, and Keller Antiques. The strip mall was off the side of the local Walmart Super Center's parking lot entrance. Walmart brought up ill feelings and memories of her kids trapped in a vile place. The parking lot was packed with cars and signs announced times for bus pick ups to take people to FEMA centers and safe zones months ago.

"If you think it looks clear, it should only take a few minutes," she said.  Her plan was to grab a half dozen Android phones and look to see if they had any hand crank or solar chargers.  Grab those, too, then get out.

The phones were useless now, but if she got the tower up and running, and had the magic SIM numbers, any she handed out would start working once she added them to the network.  Theoretically?  She really hadn't gotten through enough of the manuals she'd grabbed at the tower to know if it was going to work, yet.

There was also a range problem, adding and powering more towers for the network, and a lot more.  Right now it was more of a mid to long range plan.

"Looks clear from here." Matt said. "Want me to go out into the parking lot and make a distraction?"

"I'd rather not draw any undo attention to us with the gang activity in the area," Roberta pointed out.

"Just do a slow drive around the parking lot and I'll catch you when you circle back."

She hopped out with her spear and headed for the Verizon store to do her shopping.  She didn't expect any trouble in a phone store, but made some noise at the doorway to draw any out that might have gotten stuck.

Roberta banged the spear against the door's frame several times. As she waited for a moment or six she noted that she was standing in broken glass. It covered the floor. Then she noticed the bullet holes in the walls ahead and to her left. Brass casings littered the ground as well. There had been a firefight here some time ago. The she heard the rasping groan of undead. A heartbeat later two undead shuffled out of a side door marked Employees Only. One was a woman, thirty or so, and missing part of her left arm. She wore gore stained tatters that barely covered her nakedness. The other broke her heart. It was Rod.

"Rod, how?" she whispered, letting the spear tip drop to the floor.

She backed away from the doorway and looked for the brothers.  This wasn't something she could do.

"Why are you even here?" she sighed in resignation.  Was this how everyone was going to end up?


OOC: Mean, mean, mean.

(OOC: It gets worse.)

The woman closed on Roberta, teeth gnashing, and Roberta began to realize how much worse the day had turned. It was Ivy. Poor, lost Ivy. Rod must have found her after all.

"Hey, you alright in there?" Jed called from the car as it rolled by at a walking pace.

"No," Roberta replied, backing out of the shop, trying to keep the tears at bay.  "Could you put these two to rest.  Please."

She handed off her spear, the one Rod had made her.  Recalling the moment, she looked back at the man to ensure he hadn't festooned himself with booby-trapped explosives.  It would be just like him to do something like that.

A moment after Jed had entered the shop he was running back out shouting and tackled Roberta to the ground. There was an explosion. It wasn't the loudest thing she had heard or most dangerous blast to go off near her. She recalled the mines in the military camp near Chattanooga.

"Was that someone you knew?" Matt asked as he offered a hand to Roberta.

Jed chimed in as he got to his knees, "That guy was something else. There was mine rigged with a contact detonator on his chest. Guess he figured he would get overrun. Smart, and deadly."

"Tell me what to look for." Matt said. "I'll go inside for you."

"That was Rod," Roberta replied, trying to wipe the dust and tears from her face with the sleeve of her t-shirt. "He and I kept each other alive for a long time."

What was a long time these days?  Were lives now measured in days rather than years?

"The woman was Ivy," she continued.  "We lost track of her when we came through before.  We spent a few days looking for her and that's when we met up with the band kids.  We thought she'd got away."

Composing herself, she stood up and said, "I was hoping to pick up a dozen Android phones and some solar and maybe crank chargers if they had any.  But don't spend too much time because that blast is going to draw some attention and we can get phones anywhere.

"I was just hoping to get a few in case the band kids didn't want to leave, again."

There was a loud whistle from behind them.

Looking back they could see a line of fifteen kids on what looked like those powered bicycles. Roberta clucked her tongue.

"Hey, you old men lost?" A tall boy said. "Or just in town to visit?"

There was a bit of laughter before the kids rolled on over and basically assaulted the  men with hugs and laughter.

A boy walked up to Roberta, the chubby kid from before, and said, "Hey, lady. It's nice to see you again."

"It's good to see you again, too," Roberta said as she pulled the boy in for a hug.  She was still on the emotional roller coaster of losing both Rod an Ivy.  At least there was someone she hadn't lost.

"We came out to see how you all were doing," she added without letting go.  She hoped the kids hadn't known about Rod and Ivy.  She wasn't going to tell them.

(OOC:so every time I want to set a map for this thread that is anything but super simple I can't make it work. Sorry about that. I will try to explain things plainly so it is obvious where you choices lie.)

"Listen, kiddos, we have to get you organized and ready to roll ASAP." Jed told the little group. "It's time to get you out of here. It's been far too long."

"We apologize for that." Matt added. He looked rather embarrassed.

"Roberta here has an idea for a way to communicate using some of the old tech." Jed went on. "We are going over the mountain to Dunlap. But from there we need to head north cross country in the backroads to Savage Gulf state park. There are number of towers out that way Roberta. And hopefully not a lot of anything else."

"What's your situation here?" Roberta asked the tall boy she remembered.  "Is there really a good reason to stay?"

Despite what the brother had said, they couldn't force the kids to leave with them.

"Nah," A taller Bay began, he looked all of fourteen. "This place has really gone downhill in the last week. That gang Rod and Roberta blew up fell apart. They keep fighting each other more than anybody else. They really tear stuff up when they fight."

"Yes, please, take us away from here." A girl, most likely a senior but very small in stature, said. "You guys are in clean clothes and you have shaved recently. You have a place where I can take a bath. So, I'm in."

There was a general sense of agreement.

"I won't sugar coat it. Some of your parents are alive, but no all of them." Jed said. "I don't know them all well enough to say who, but I do not that Micky's brother is lost also."

It sunk in, but their determination didn't waver. Half an hour later the cars was stuffed with kids, adults, and a ludicrous amount of canned food, bottled water, boxed candy, basic medical supplies, board games, and a small amount of ammunition and gasoline.

Once in the car there was the unmistakable smell of soiled gym clothing. But, they weren't in a gym. Roberta's nose wrinkled reflexively.

"Ok, where is the nearest stream access?" Matt said as he fired up the station wagon.

"That sounds more like a local question than a map reading question," Roberta pointed out.  Was he thinking about dunking the kids before they went too far?

"It's the meat grease." The fat kid told them. "We kill one of them things and use fat from them to make a stinking grease that smells like them. Keeps them from trying to eat us al the time. You should try it."

"I'll keep that in mind," Roberta replied, revolted by their ingenuity.  These kids had been left alone on the island perhaps a little too long.

"Hopefully, we won't need that on the way home. We managed to avoid them for most of the way here.

"And I'd much prefer a tractor solution than that," she added.  "But yes, it wouldn't hurt to stop and get cleaned up for a proper road trip."

"There is an old pump house not far away." Said the tallest girl.

Moments later they car was pulling in. The kids made no bones about stripping down and getting cleaned up. There was even extra clothing in the pump house. There weren't stares, innuendos, or even fake modesty among them. They seemed more like athletes in common showers or soldiers in shared barracks facilities.

They didn't seem to notice the awkwardness of the adults, or if they did they tactfully ignored that as well. The kids were quick and quiet. A small gas stove nearby was used to heat water. Their old clothes were tossed into a barrel that was quickly filled with water and bleach. Clean and sterile, nice, but the clothes would be left there when they rolled out ten minutes later.

Once the kids were clean and looking normal again, they were all back in the car. It was crowded, for sure, but at least their spirits were high and their stomachs were no longer churning.

"Roberta, want to make a stop at a tower?" Jed asked. "I think there is another one in a field of the side of one of these back roads we are about to be taking."

"I think it would be best if we just picked the best way back, right now," Roberta said.  "Once we're back at the Farm, I can take a good look at the manuals I've collected and then range out from there to see if there's a switching tower closer than the one we accidentally found."

She was really focused on getting the kids back in one piece and seeing her family again.

The ride back was going smoothly, if not uncomfortably. The kids were quiet and attentive, almost monk-like. It made her wonder just how they had managed for so many weeks without anyone to guide them.

As the day drew darker they drove into the park. It was odd, but it looked like the place didn't know the world had come to an end. There weren't the usual camps of corpses and abandoned gear. No barbed wire and revetments common to the military camps. And none of those silly FEMA signs telling everyone to line up, stay calm, be patient, help was on its way.

"This place looks pretty good." Jed said as Matt slowed the car to stop at the entrance. "Might even be safe enough for a cook out."

"Just pick somewhere open where we can see in every direction," Roberta said, remembering the fairgrounds.  "I don't want anything wandering up on us without us seeing it first."

She wasn't going to depend on anyone else to set up a perimeter watch this time.  She'd even stay up all night if she had to.  She could sleep in the car.

"Sounds like a plan." Matt said.

They were passing a side of the road mom-n-pops gas station when a fourteen year old hand shot out the window pointing.

"There." A girl said. "We can sleep on top of those. The dead don't now how to look on rooftops."

All eyes turned to the station, Marvin's One Stop Gas, Food, and DVDs. It was actually two squat block buildings that stood about ten feet tall. Flat rooftops, it made sense. It was probably how the kids survived.


"Now, that is a good plan." Jed said. "Let's put in there for the night Matt."

"Sign says phones and accessories." Matt added as they pulled up slowly. "Want to go take a look Roberta?"

As the station wagon rolled in closer several undead came shambling and stumbling out of the gas station. However, the other building where the stop and shop was located was sealed up with boards over the windows and front door. Roberta noted the boards were on the inside.

"Let's clear the area while we have the light," Roberta said.  "Double team them and keep it quiet.

"We'll park the car near the building that isn't boarded up and use it's roof as our camp.  If we park the car about 3 feet from the side wall, we can block off front and back with barrels, pallets, or whatever to leave us a safe spot to drop down into in case we need to get loaded in an attack.

"Then we'll check out the boarded building to see what's left over and also see if we can pick up a few more phones and solar or crank chargers.

"No one goes anywhere alone and keep your eyes open.  We're not in a hurry."

She also wanted to get everyone a hot meal before it got dark with a small fire they'd put out afterwards.  No need drawing anything in to the light.

The secret to the kids survival was soon made apparent; wrist rocket style sling shots and steel ball bearings. The kids went to work with murderous efficiency. It often took two to six shots to properly strike an undead in the skull. But, it took less than a minute for the kids to put down the undead at the station.

It would have been comical had the situation not been for real.

"Man alive, that's great, how many of those bearing do you have left?" Matt said to the kids as he checked the undead.

"Don't know exactly." A boy replied. "We had these bags. They weighed like twenty pounds each. We still had about one and a half when you guys came for us. So, like thousands, maybe."

"Right," Jed added. "Roberta want to come with me to check this place out? Matt, you and the kids figure out how to get on the roof and stay close when you do it."

"Sure, let's check it out," Roberta replied to Jed, grabbing her spear off the roof rack.  "But if there's any in there, we'll back out and have them come to us in the open.

"We don't need any surprises."

They found a back door that was not sealed up. Picking the lock, Jed managed to get them into the stop-n-shop in minutes. Pushing the metal door open he knocked loudly several times and they waited. And waited.

After a bit, Jed dug out a flashlight and led them inside. They were in a backroom of sorts with racks and tables filled with supplies like detergents, shampoos, toilet paper, bar soaps, canned fruit, powdered potatoes, ketchup, notebooks, shoe laces, and so on. The stuff that would have been expected. Moving through a bead curtain they came into the interior of the store.

Most of the shelving was pushed along the front of the building pinning plywood to the walls and covering the front door. There wasn't any windows to look out of making the room into an artificial cave. Folding cots and hammocks ran along the walls on three sides. In the center was a pair of folding tables surrounded by folding chairs. Boxes of cereal, instant foods, canned goods, bottled water, sodas, and the like set on the floor under the tables. On the shelving units used to bar the front of the building sat shotguns, rifles, and pistol with boxes of ammo at points along the front barricade.

There was a roster of duties; cooking, cleaning, guard, patrol, maintenance, etc., posted on the wall near the door they came through. It showed seventeen people. But there was no sign of them here. On the table was a hand written note that told someone named Steve that they had all decided to go the Navy ship near Gulf Port and to hurry along an catch up.

It was shocking to see so much left behind, but there wasn't corpses everywhere this time. Moving back outside they went over to the gas station. They could see through it from side to side thanks to the broken windows. It was a mess. Whatever had happened there had been enough to wreck the place. Shelves were on their sides. The cooler was smashed open and looted. The cash register was in the parking lot.

"Unless it rains, we're still staying on the other roof," Roberta resolved.  "Don't eat or drink anything that's been opened, and we'll collect what we think we need and can carry.

"And it would be nice if we could find a second vehicle or a trailer."

She left an addendum to the note for Steve that the port was a trap.  They never left and were just collecting up supplies from the survivors before sending them back out to die.

It was nice, though, to find it had been such a large organized group still working together.  She hoped they were still doing well.

Notebooks and a pack of pens would be great to help he figure out how to rebuild a cellular network.  Thinking of networks, she decided to check up on her radio checks while they were getting things set up.

Roberta spent some time on the radio. She learned that there was a wedding planned back at the farm and that the others there were really excited to get the band kids back. Especially so quickly. Some of the folks had begun calling Roberta 'Lucky' out of fondness.

She also checked other frequencies. The false message was still broadcasting from down south. Only now the message spoke of a small flotilla guarded by a Navy ship. She sighed. she came across the rag-tag unit of military and civilian law enforcement that as fighting the undead to the east and overheard a few calls about a fight near Cleveland, Tennessee. Checking the map she realized that was within fifty miles of where they were. And she came across a new broadcast, Free America Radio, and it was a doozie.

"Hey folks, this is Bad Mojo coming at you live from the Free America Radio tower in beautiful downtown Frogjump, Tennessee." The man said with a bit of laughter. "Out here where our population of forty seven has actually grown during the fall of humanity. Though it would seem the frogs have multiplied as well. Don't go south, word is that Navy ship is a trap. Don't go east, the living dead will eat you, and don't come here cause the migrating dead from Memphis are slowing shuffling through like a herd of, well, dead people. Now for some more tunes from my pal Tom Petty.."

Music began coming over the radio and Tom Petty began singing...'No - I won't back down - gonna stand my ground.....'. That was weird was her first thought.

"At least they're saying the navy ship is a bust," Roberta said aloud as she shut down the radios.

She'd been careful not to broadcast their position or numbers, but Roberta still wasn't comfortable calling back to the Farm on an open channel.  She really wanted to get a closed cell network up, but it was going to take time.

Finishing her notes on where and when the current fighting and what she'd heard, she headed over to see if anyone had started something for dinner.

Roberta made her way up onto the roof of the stop and shop. She was surprised to find the camp already laid out. Cots were laid out. But too many. It hit her then; the former residents had stayed up here to. Probably sleeping in the cooler night air. A steel drum had a fire burning away. A metal grate across the top was covered in slices of canned meat.

'Oh, yay, more SPAM.' flashed through her thoughts with all the joy one might expect at getting a root canal.

There was a false front at the edge of the rooftop that extended down the front of the building about two feet and extended up from the rooftop about three more. It made for a good advertising space for deals, prices, etc. Stepping over the facade and onto the roof Roberta was surprised to see hundreds of boxes, milk crates, coolers, and so on under sheets of plastic, tarps, and boards to protect them from the elements.

The previous residents had been really busy.

"So," Matt asked from the grill. "How do you take your SPAM, with or without onion on top?"

"With an onion, please," Roberta replied to Matt as she looked around at the view of their safe zone.  They really needed to have someone on watch at all times and to close up the buildings so nothing wandered in during the night to surprise them in the morning.

"Who do you think put all this together?" she asked.  "Has anyone found any clues?  National Guard, maybe?"

Whoever they were, they must have been really well stocked to have left this much behind.  They just didn't leave behind an extra vehicle or a trailer.

"This." Jed said holding up a book. Turned out, it was a hymnal. "Savage Creek Lutheran Church. Must have been the remnants of a group from a local church. They would have been close by, organized through church activities, in contact on a regular basis, and known the area well enough to scrounge the devil out of it. No pun intended."

He dug around in a suitcase marked 'COMMUNICATIONS' on it and found another book and held it up. He smiled, "It's a HAM radio manual. Want to try to call them? Maybe get them to come back this way?"

"Find me some names if you can," Roberta said, eagerly taking the manual. "I'll see what I can do."

She sat down and flipped through to see how the radio was supposed to work.  If they'd earmarked any frequencies or made any other notes she could find them with.  She didn't want to make any general broadcasts if she could help it.

Then again, did it matter?  She'd already done it once and this time she was even further away and they wouldn't be there that long even if someone could triangulate where she was.

If she couldn't be precise, she'd just blast it out there that the SCLC or anyone else should avoid the ship as it never leaves and just collects up what the survivors bring in and sends them out to die.

And of course, she should thank them for the SPAM.

OOC: Roberta Johnson rolled 12 using 3d4+2.  Ingenuity Check, Ham radio.

As they ate Jed and Matt, with the help of a few band kids, read through many of the books. These people kept strict ledgers of deaths, new members, and even a few births were recorded. It some doing to figure out who was who but in the end there were what seemed to be three important names.

Reverend Harold Beachman
Sarah Beachman, his wife
Randy Newsome, a tech guy

After dinner they set up a HAM unit among the stored items on the roof. Hooked it to a battery bank with a nearly full charge. And hooked the battery back to a small generator that ran on gasoline that still had half a tank of fuel. It would be loud, like a car motor, but it they needed to they could use it to keep the battery bank charged.

She turned on the radio and immediately there was a multitude of people talking on the frequency used to broadcast for the ship. Roberta was shocked to here what was being said.

"....Sinclair six, we are trapped on an overpass on highway seventy-one. Break." A man was saying. "I can see an old Citgo station. Send retrieval now. How copy? Over."

In the background there had been the sounds of gunfire and frantic people.

"Team four-four, this is Sinclair six. Hold your position. We are dispatching the helo to retrieve your salvage. That will allow you to abandon the vehicles and evade on foot to the next salvage location. How copy, Team four-four. Over."

Another snip-it of conversation drown out the first when a woman broadcast, "..we are in the McDonald's, Peter can you here me, we are in the McDonald's. Don't come this way. It's a trap, Peter, don't come this way. Those men aren't real Navy, they are killers. Peter can you here me?..."

The memories of harrowing escapes and the threats her children faced when their father and the others tried to make it the the ship on their first trek south came to the front of Roberta's thoughts. She felt for those people, truly.

"McLaran, can you here me?" A man asked. He was stern voiced, like he was accustomed to giving orders and spoke over the radio like he was talking to someone in the same room. But there was an immediate response.

"I'm here. Go ahead." A man responded. His voice gave nothing away, but the response was almost instant.

"Move twenty men to Howes Road, the fourteen hundred block, and watch for a group leaving the overpass on highway 71." Man replied. "They are about to get lightened. Support their exfil off that overpass but do not engage the team."

"Copy that." was the only replied.

"Why did they have to tell them not to engage their own people?" Roberta said aloud after hearing the odd exchange.  It took her a few seconds, but it was obvious with what she already knew.

"Find me a Peter," she said urgently pointing at the paperwork they'd been going through.

Grabbing up the handset, she took a breath and depressed the button, even as she was jotting down names before she forgot them.

"Team four-four, this is Subaru," she said calmly.  "Why did Sinclair 6 have to specify NOT to engage your team?  Shouldn't that be obvious?  Unless it's code for something they don't want broadcasted in the clear.

"You have to ask yourself, why are they jamming if they don't know you're coming?"

Everybody knew what came next, right?  It's not like her husband didn't embarrass the kids with his accent whenever the opportunity came up.  And he wasn't even that geeky.

"Subaru please be advised that you are interfering with the safety of our deployed teams." The unknown leader said flatly. "To answer your question, to engage our own if they get into contact with the undead can lead to fratricide. Now, please be kind enough to give us your location and intention."

The conversation between Team 44 and Sinclair 6 continued for a while. It became obvious in no time that the helicopter was being flown from the Navy ship, now confirmed to be a a frigate, to retrieve supplies from the heavily loaded members of Team 44. It explained a lot. Keep them under observation by skilled personnel, expose the 'unkonwn' but desirous survivors to the risks of accumulating needed supplies to keep the ship's personnel safe, limit the ability of people on shore to get to the frigate, and a means to stockpile a large amount of supplies aboard that ship without exposing those supplies to the needs of people who gathered them. It was creepy and sinister.

"There is a Peter Metcalf here." Jed said. "But, according to this he is old, like seventy-three. He is listed here as a senior deacon with a date of birth and everything. You really think that was him on the radio?"

A woman's voice could be heard in the background of radio conversations about the locations of teams, hordes of undead, and the actions between them. She was quietly talking, almost as she were whispering in someone's ear at a party. The conspiratorial feel drew Roberta's attention.

'..on the American Meteorological Civilian Radio Frequency." The woman was saying. "And discuss the conditions of where you are. It would be nice to know if a storm is coming our way."

"I don't think they'd take a 73 year old out on a scavenging mission," Roberta agreed with Jed.

"It seems a lot of folks have fought their way down to that navy ship," Roberta said calmly as she depressed the handset to broadcast.  "You'd think more of them would still be there.  Still be alive.

"Are they really that bad at keeping folks alive, or just really good at collecting supplies without having the extra mouths to feed?

"And if the SCLC folks can hear this, come home.  Randall needs some new flip flops.  Subaru, out,"

She let go of the handset button and shrugged. "I couldn't think of a good code for beach other than flip flops," she admitted.

"And now for the weather," she said, reaching for one of the manuals she'd been looking at.  "I was pretty sure there were a list of emergency frequencies somewhere."

Finding the page she was looking for, she ignored anything further from Sinclair and turned the dial to the real frequency for the Meteorology report.  She also dialed her broadcast strength down to a quarter of her previous strength.  It should cut down their broadcast distance considerably.  Or at least, that's what the manual said.

"Could I get the weather for South Carolina, please?" she asked over the new frequency with as much of a sweet southern drawl as she could muster.

"We'll see if I got this right," she explained to the others as she jotted down the new frequency into her notebook.  If she didn't get any response, she'd boost the power little by little and keep trying.  Ideally, she'd have enough power to reach the Meteorology folks, but fall short of Sinclair.

Or, she might have just been barking up the wrong tree.

A man answered Roberta on the HAM radio.

"Hello, I am so glad to hear your voice." He said. He sounded relieved. "I feel we have been lured into an exploitative situation her in southern Alabama. Do you know something about this Navy Ship? Are we in danger here because of it?"

"Yes," Roberta answered plainly in her normal voice over the handset.  She was happy to hear she'd guessed correctly about the frequency change.  In one of her son's role playing games, she'd probably get puzzle solving experience for that.

"The ship is bait to lure in survivors.  The crew convinces them they need to gather supplies and have the survivors go out and collect them.

"Then after a while, before anyone gets suspicious, they send you out into a trap to tie up loose ends.  With their broadcast, they have survivors coming in all the time to replenish their disposable scavengers.

"At some point they could take that ship anywhere they want, but for now, they've got a good thing going.  People want to believe there's still some order out there.  That the United States still exists in some form, but it's not them.

"You're best off finding a small farming community that's self sufficient.  I've found that large farm tractors work well at grinding down herds.  Just watch your fuel gauge and stay on the flats."

She released the handset and looked around at the others while waiting for a reply.

A woman came onto the radio. Roberta wasn't sure, but it may have been the woman who had spoken earlier.

"Hello, thank you. We are, well, we were beginning to get suspicious. They are sending a helicopter out to other teams to collect the supplies we gather. But no one seems to be making to the ship."

Roberta could hear crying in the background. She was beginning to wonder if these people had figured it out a little too late.

"We have some wounded among us." The woman said. Probably just to air out her thoguhts to someone whom she felt cared. "We got caught inside a small store by a horde. Several of us were injured by an explosion. We, ah, blew out a wall to escape. One of us fell to the undead. Hard to believe we went through that just get some damned cell phones and tablets to go on a list of so called needed electronics."

"I'm sorry to hear about your losses," Roberta said sadly over the radio.  "They're good at convincing people to believe in them.

"From your list, it sounds like they either have someone who can actually keep those devices working, or they're just looting."

It would be bad if they did have someone on their end that could get a cell network back up.  Though, she didn't really think it would be helpful to them unless they planned on staying where they were for quite a bit longer.  If they could switch to cell phone communications, they could stop using the radio broadcasts that everyone could hear.  It would allow them to control the narrative of what was happening to the other teams and the rest of the country.

And anyone that could set up their cell network had a chance at unlocking their more advanced weapons systems.  She didn't know if that ship had cruise missiles, but she didn't want to find out.

"Your best bet is to head north and find farms.  Not too far north to deal with the winter, but far enough away from where you are to be safe.  I don't think they're going to stray far from their ship, even if they can get it to move."

She was reluctant to point them at the Farm.  She hadn't asked and didn't feel she had a right to invite anyone in.  Especially over an open broadcast.

"What else was on their list?  Anything really specific?  Like electronic parts or industrial equipment?"

"It was mostly things like canned goods, toiletries, clothing, linens, pharmacy supplies, ammunition types, and basic machine parts like electric motors and sprockets." Came the reply. It was an older man that sounded as if he was reading from a list of organized items.

"The most peculiar things on the list are bee sting kits, rat poison, and moth balls." The man said as if telling her would suddenly explained the need for those items.

She was relieved they weren't looking for specific electronics.  It wasn't positive proof as they could have a special team looking for those parts. but it was something.

"All right," Roberta replied over the handset, "it sounds like they're still just building up their supplies.  My worry was that they were able to get into their advanced weapon systems.

"Thanks for your help.  I have another call to make, so get out of there, and good luck."

She listened in for a final reply as she looked at her map for the other frequency she was looking to tune in next.  Bad Mojo.

"That was A-C-D-C with their top notch friday night firefight song 'Back in Black'. Coming from yours truly, and up next we have bit o' news from a little neighborhood ten miles southeast of Atlnta." His voice was at a fever pitch. Roberta wondered what had him so stoaked; good news or good druggs? "A group of eleven families has won a majour fight against a ferocious gang of very malignent survivor scavenger types. Killing twenty seven and sending another thirty or so running with their tale between their legs. Many, they say, were shot up good. So, watch out, these crazy motherfuckers are looking for anyone they can take easily. Violently. And, man oh man, this pot is some mean stuff itself."

Roberta unfolded the other half of her map and traced her finger to what she thought was 10 miles southeast of Atlanta and circled it with a note about 11 grouped families and raiders.  When they got back to the farm, she'd recommend having someone listening on this frequency for information around the clock.

She'd planned on breaking in to his broadcast to speak against the ship, but he'd given her another idea and she spun the dial back to the weather channel.

"If you're still there," she said over the handset, "there's a group of families 10 miles southeast of Atlanta that just drove off a group of raiders.  There are more than a couple dozen raiders left in the vicinity, but if you head that direction and link up with the families that drove them off, you may be able to join them.  Or at least get some information.

"I heard this on the Bad Mojo broadcast," she explained, following up with their frequency.  "I've never met him, but he seems to be trying to help folks.  He's actually been warning people away from the ship.

"Just be careful in the area, because both sides are going to be jumpy."

A different male voice repsonded to Roberta's latest broadcast saying, "Thanks for the heads up. We will get a road map out and look into it. We here that there was a lot of undead near Atlanta. Do you have any knowledge of the conditions there?"

Before Roberta could think of how to respond there was a different voice on the radio.

"Beware of traveling west of Atlanta." A woman was saying. "We are holed up to the north of the city with a shrewd survivalist type. He said that the city overrun pretty early on. There seems to be a lot of those hungries migrating to the west and southwest."

"I can't say what's in the Atlanta area," Roberta admitted over the handset, "but I would stay away from the city itself.  Too many people packed in to start with.

"Just stay safe out there and good luck, out."

Flipping back to the Bad Mojo, frequency, she listened in for a lull where she could break in and ask if he took callers.  She really wanted to reinforce that people shouldn't be headed for the ship.