A pound on the door startled Sam out of his slumber.  He reached for his sidearm, but realized that it had been confiscated.  After hearing no undead moans on the other side of the doorway, Sam looked around the room and shouted “Jesus Christ, what’s the matter?”

            Had the walls been breached? Were they being evacuated again?

            “Mr. Paterson, we need you to open the door,” an unfamiliar voice said in return.

            The man on the other side sounded steady but impatient.  If Sam decided not to cooperate, they would just kick down the door.  If they wanted to kill or capture him, there were better, quieter ways to do it.

            “I’ll be right there.  Just let me put some pants on.”

            Looking to the other bed and the sofa, Sam noticed that Jack was missing.  He couldn’t afford to worry about him at the moment.  If an emergency was unfolding, Sam would have to think clearly.  He needed to worry about one thing at a time.

            When he opened the door, two soldiers armed with rifles and side arms pushed him aside and searched the room.  They inspected the bathroom, glanced at the opened closet, and looked under the bed.  Before Sam had a chance to demand an explanation one of the soldiers shouted “Just one!” and left with his partner in tow.

            When Sam stepped out of his room another soldier put a hand on his chest, pushing him back inside.

            “Sir, I need you to stay inside.  We have a situation.”

            “What kind of situation? What’s going on?” Sam shouted.

            Though his face was close to the soldier’s, he resisted the urge to grab the stranger’s arm.  He’d dealt with messy situations on the force.  When society started to fall, he’d seen some of his buddies on the force turn violent.  He’d had to stop a few of them from bludgeoning bystanders to death with their knight sticks without provoking them to strike him.  He’d seen bullies on both sides of the law and the number one rule in surviving an encounter was to not provoke them if you didn’t have an advantage or you had another choice.  On top of his previous experience, Sam remembered how quickly Franklin had vanished.

            Rather than giving the soldier an excuse to detain him, Sam stepped back and took a deep breath.

            “We have a situation.”

            With that, Sam surrendered his ground and allowed the soldier to close the door.  The clock on his night stand read 1:37 AM.  He’d only slept three hours, but he couldn’t climb back into bed.  Not with the knocks and shouts outside.  Not with two of his men missing.  Not with a situation.  He wondered how the group across the street faired.  Were any more of them going to turn up missing?

            The commotion ended around 2:15 and an abrupt knock on the door followed.  Readying himself an abduction attempt, Sam inched towards the doorway.  As he searched around for something to use as a weapon, he heard Helen’s voice at the other side of the door.

            After opening up, Sam asked “Have you seen Jack or Ted around?”

            “No, I thought they were down here,” she replied.  “Did they say anything about what’s going on?”

            “They just said that we have a situation.”

            “I’ll say.  This reeks.”

            “Maybe they weren’t snatched.  Did Jack tell you anything?  Were they planning to sneak off or meet someone?”

            “If Jack would have told me anything like that, I’d be with him right...”

            Helen’s voice trailed off and she looked to her right.

            “Step outside, Mr. Paterson,” a man’s voice commanded.

            “If I shout, you’ll have a hundred angry people to deal with.”

            “If you shout, they’ll all be executed.”

            He was right.  If the refugees fought, they’d be facing a superior force as it was, but this was just an outpost for them.  The army they’d face if their hosts called for backup may very well have dwarfed the numbers the numbers he’d seen when facing the cult.  Only this time, it wouldn’t be so easy to assassinate their leader.  Olmstead was not a public figure.  He made the occasional speech, but he seemed to prefer the shadows.  Aside from the greeting speech he’d given, Sam hadn’t seen the man since they arrived.  All he and Helen could do was to cooperate and wait for a chance to break loose away from the others.

            Sam stepped outside, shutting the door behind him.  The man who spoke held a .38 revolver to Helen’s side.  Two other men flanked either side.  Rifles hung from both men’s shoulders.  Their sidearms covered Sam.

            The leader’s free hand combed through his gray hair and an unlit cigarette protruded from his mouth.  Though his voice had been calm and level, the man’s face was drained of color save for the dark circles under his eyes.  Eyes which locked onto Sam’s in expectation.

            “Where are we going?” Sam asked.

            The gray haired man responded by waving Sam and Helen towards the stairs.  They were in front while the armed men followed.  Once they reached the street, he instructed his prisoners to walk to a jeep that was parked at the edge of the lot.  Though he looked ahead, Sam could feel their pistols aimed at his back.  Though they probably intended to snatch both of them, they were clearly more worried about Sam than Helen.  They knew Sam’s background and assumed he was more of a threat than the eighteen year old girl.  As soon as an opportunity presented itself, their assumption would be a big mistake.

            “In the back,” their captor said to Helen, motioning towards the doors with his gun.  After she climbed in, the other two gunmen sat on either side.  He then instructed Sam to climb into the front passenger’s seat.  “Don’t force us to shoot your friend.”

            Before the dead started to walk, a rule of survival was never to let an abductor put you in his car.  Once there, you were on his turf, where he could do kill you on his terms.  Though the same concept applied in their situation, they faced certain death if they didn’t get in the jeep and do what they were told.  There was also a chance that they would be able to escape after finding out what their captors wanted.

            Had Jack and Ted disappeared looking for the same answers?

            The possibility angered Sam.  He wondered why they couldn’t have just gone to him.  Because I wouldn’t have let them out.

            He wondered if they were dead or being tortured.  No, he though.  If they’d been captured there wouldn’t be a visible search going on.  The whole situation seemed like an investigation.  Something happened and their hosts were trying to figure out what was going on.

            “You know,” the gray haired man said.  “Your little friends’ stunt has made things a whole lot worse for the rest of your people.”

            “What happened?  Who are you?”

            “My name’s Gideon Turnbull.  I’m one of Olmstead’s lieutenants but after tonight, I’ll be a fugitive.”

            The answer perplexed Sam.  The demeanor of his captor changed as soon as the jeep started to roll.  He seemed more relaxed and had stopped giving orders.  However, his men in the back still kept their guns on Helen.  Turnbull was confident of his control over the situation and for the moment, Sam couldn’t see a reason for him not to be.

            “To answer your other question,” he said taking his eyes off of the road for a moment.  “Your friends took a walk and got into a confrontation with three young guards.”  He looked in the rear view mirror and said: “I think you met them earlier today.  Don’t worry, your friends are alive, but the three guards didn’t get off so easily.  One of my agents saw fit to jump in and help the two kids off of the base.”

            Sam’s hand reflexively formed a fist at the disapproval in Turnbull’s voice.  If their captor was telling the truth, Sam could have pinned a medal on this agent’s chest.  They’d been trained well and had both survived against impossible odds in the wild.  If they were out with the undead with weapons and supplies they were still alive.

            “That’s all I can say for now, but you’re in great danger and I’m your best hope for survival.”

            “Why should I trust you?” Sam asked.

            “You don’t need to right now.  I trust you as long as I have guns on Helen.”

*

            Gideon Turnbull was going to have to keep an eye on Sam Paterson.  For now, the former police officer was complacent, but he would pounce if an opportunity presented itself.  Snatching Paterson and his companion at gun point wouldn’t help earn their trust over the long run, but it was the only way he could have convinced them to come with him without a struggle and in a short amount of time.

            Sanchez had royally fucked up.  He was supposed to find Sam Paterson and Helen York.  The jeep was meant for them.  They were on a list of people of interest, even before Kyle Franklin had broken and given their names up during a session with Mr. Truax.  Paterson was a target mainly because he’d lead the expedition the colony had sent prior to the attack.  He’d also taken charge of the survivors since his return.  If anyone there had confidential knowledge, it was him.  Ms. York was more of a wild card.  Not many people knew her, but they’d said that she’d returned with Paterson.  According to the interviews, York had been a survivor of the colony who’d developed some sort of vaccination, so she was likely to have knowledge of the package.  Something bothered Turnbull about York’s story though.  He wondered how she could have survived a large scale assault by herself.  The refugees had told their interviewers that York had been on the science team, which meant she’d have little survival training.

            Thanks to Sanchez’s fumble, Turnbull had to think of a way to get past the guards at the gate without raising alarms.  Hopefully someone sympathetic with his cause would be manning the gate.  Otherwise, there’d be a firefight and the snipers on the wall would end this mission real fast.  Had Turnbull been a praying man, he would have turned to the Lord on High for an answer.  And he’d never have had results.

            Stopping a few yards short of the gatehouse, Turnbull unlocked his door.

            “Sit tight,” he said.

            Paterson’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say a word.  The two guards kept their pistols trained on the girl.  He locked eyes with her and for a moment wondered if she was more of a threat than the cop.

            Stuffing his pistol into the deep pocket of his jacket, Turnbull headed towards the guardhouse.  His eyes drifted skyward and for the first time, he noticed a large cluster of clouds blocking the sky to the north.  He couldn’t tell in the moonlight if the clouds meant rain or just shade.  By the time his eyes leveled back to the gate house, one of the guards stepped out to greet him.  The rifle was slung over the soldier’s shoulders, which was a good sign.  It meant the alert sent out about him either hadn’t gone through yet or it hadn’t gotten around.

            The guard was about twenty years old and sported a shadow cast by two or three days without shaving.  With few women on the base, many of the young men assigned there had relaxed their hygiene.  The young soldier wore his hat backwards and his shirt unbuttoned.  Turnbull didn’t recognize him, which meant that the guard was probably not a member of the resistance, but also ruled out the possibility of him being an agent of the darker portion of Olmstead’s agenda.

            In an instant, Olmstead knew how to get past the gate.

            “Good evening sir,” the soldier said.  “What is the purpose of your trip?”

            “Are you a soldier or gas station attendant?” Turnbull shouted.

            “Sir?”

            “You sure as hell don’t look like you’re supposed to be manning that gate! When was the last time you shaved?”

            “Two days…”

            “And turn that god damn hat around!”

            The soldier fumbled with his hat.

            “And tuck in that shirt!”

            Nodding, his shaky hands buttoned the shirt.  Before he was halfway finished, Turnbull stepped closer and poked a finger at the soldier’s chest.

            “Now you’re going to open that damn gate and then you’re going to finish tucking in that shirt.  Then you’re going to shine those boots.  And for the love of God, SHAVE!”

            “Yes sir!”

            The soldier tripped as he retreated to the gatehouse and spoke into an intercom.  A few seconds later the gate slid opened and Turnbull jumped back into the jeep.  After pulling through the gate, Turnbull let out a sigh of relief.

            “We’re doing better than I though,” he said.

            “What do you mean ‘we’?”

            “I mean you’re as lucky as the rest of us that those guards didn’t just kill me and decide to take you and your friend.  They know that you know something and they were going to make a move some time tonight.  If they grabbed you, you’d both be getting very familiar with a man named Truax right now.  And trust me when I say he’s someone you don’t want to know.”

            “What about the rest of our people?” Paterson asked.

            “I’ve bought them some time, but they are still in great danger.”

            That was a lie.  No matter what, everyone Mr. Paterson knew would be dead by the end of the week.  Olmstead would likely grab some of their leaders for torture, but he’d find a way to kill the rest of them sooner than later.

            “You said someone helped our friends.” Ms. York said.

            “One of my agents got them out of the compound and gave them a jeep and supplies.”

            He didn’t see the point in lying about their friends.  Though Sanchez saw fit to give the boys a ride and supplies, he didn’t know how long they could survive.  Had they escaped a month after the dead walked, he’d figure them for dead but it was a different world.  Turnbull had seen people survive against amazing odds and do things he didn’t think were possible in the last twenty years.

            Too bad the rest of their people have to die.

            After about forty minutes on the road, Turnbull entered the remnants of a state park and pulled over, killing the engine.

            “I wish I could leave you the jeep, but we need it.  We’re going to have to link up with some friends and plan what’s next.”

            “Just like that?  We’re just free to leave?” Paterson asked.

            “Yes.”

            “Without anything to defend ourselves?”

            “There’s a box in the back.  It contains some supplies and weapons.  One of them is the rifle Ms. York arrived with.”

            “So you’re just going to drop us here and run?” Ms. York said.

            “No, we’re…”

            “I know you’re going to ‘plan the next step.’  From what it looks like, your people have been planning the next step and retreating for through this whole mess.  It’s exactly what I used to do until they pushed me too hard.”

            He wondered what she meant by that.

            “Helen!” Sam said.

            “The best thing both of you can do for your people is to get out of this jeep and disappear.  We’re going to figure out how to help them.”

            “If I let them wait for that, your people are just going to sit on your hands and wait until our people are fucking dead.  Then you’re just going to soothe your consciences by telling yourselves that you tried!”

            On her last word, Helen shoved the pistols away.  The guars responded by shoving their side arms in her face.  The girl ignored them.

            “Look, if you’re going to be a problem, we can just shoot both of you and dump you outside.  It’s not like anyone will find the bodies.  Olmstead will still think you disappeared.”

            “If you wanted us dead, you would have killed us back inside of the compound and shoved our corpses in the back of the jeep,” Paterson said.

            “And you sure as hell don’t seem to like the idea of us coming back and raising hell,” York said.

            “Now…”

            “And that’s exactly what we’re going to do if you don’t help us!”

            Suddenly, Turnbull wished he’d forced Paterson and York to dig their own graves at gunpoint.  But the thought faded.  He was going to see enough death other the next few days.  Two more killings were the last thing he wanted.

            “Why should we help you?”

            “Because your people have to make a stand some time.  If you can’t do it to prevent a mass murder, your revolution will never happen,” Helen said.  “I suppose you suspect that I wasn’t a biologist.”

            “Helen,” Paterson warned.

            “Most of the report’s true.  A cult did attack that other compound, but I wasn’t a survivor.  I’d disserted from the attacking army intent on running away until I saw Sam’s people under fire.  At that moment, I decided to take a stand.  Just five of us took on an army and all we had to do was show the people that their leader could be killed and that he’d come back like anyone else.  They’d started to destruct immediately.  The chaos started before we’d even left their compound.  Soldiers fired on civilians.  Preachers flung themselves out of windows.  The people saw their spiritual leaders cowering in fear.  All it took to break them was one bullet.”

            “So you expect us to plow through the compound walls and kill Olmsted?”

            “No.  He’s not a public figure like our messiah, but if you give him a target, he’ll send his best men to come for us.  If we can send enough of them back in body bags, it’ll show your people that his army can be hurt.  Maybe it’ll even show them that everyone else isn’t on Olmstead’s side.  At the same time, the battle will thin his resources, allowing our people a little more time and a better chance to find their own way out.”

            She did have a point.  Preventing a mass murder was motivation that would convince many in his network to scurry out of their hiding places and fight.  But what if the battle gave a plausible cover to the mass killing?  He sure as hell wasn’t about to argue that point.  He believed the girl when she said she’d been a killer, and he believed she and Paterson were capable of delivering every threat they’d promised.  If they knew he’d intended to let their people die, it would have taken more than Turnbull and his two guards to stop them.

            “How many people are on that base?  Four, five hundred?  Of those, how many are soldiers and how many of them are unquestionably loyal to Olmstead?” she asked.

            “I don’t know for sure, but close to four hundred of the personnel there are soldiers.  I’d say two hundred are either in Olmstead’s secret force or are fanatically loyal.”

            “How many of your people are inside?”

            “Considerably less.  I’d say maybe twenty-five maybe seventy-five.   We don’t all know about each other.”

            “And there’s nowhere else they’d be able to draw quick reinforcements from?”

            “The main compound’s at least a day or two away.”

            “If we can draw enough troops to us, then maybe your people can organize a strike inside of the compound.”

            The idea was starting to sound appealing.  Maybe keeping these two around would help his cause.  Turnbull motioned for his troops to lower their weapons.

            “I have to admit, your plan sounds attractive.  I’ll talk to my people and see how many men we can gather,” he said.  “You two can get back in.”

            This time when everyone climbed back in, the soldiers in the back of the jeep held their weapons at ease.

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