Kevin wasn't enthusiastic about letting Three Scar and Razor go, but he didn't see any choice as the alternative was to kill them. He'd disposed of scavengers before, but it had always been in self defense. The situation was rapidly getting out of hand. First, Three Scar and Razor get recruited into their group, then a female scavenger, and now, Kevin was forced risk his life, as well as that of George and Isabella, on the possibility the new members of their group were on the level.

Putting his discomfort aside, Kevin concentrated on moving quickly through the undergrowth and closely packed trees. They'd been forced to leave the road as it passed too near the scavenger base. He needed his focus centered on the task at hand because if he wasn't careful, he might run into a scavenger patrol he didn't notice in time. It wouldn't matter if Three Scar was telling the truth if Kevin got himself killed before they even reached the military outpost.

***

Surrounded by sizable paved areas of concrete, the base was a collection of more than four dozen buildings. They varied in size, shape, and function. The smaller, square buildings were for base administration and the upper chain of command. Larger structures in rectangular shapes were barracks, and Kevin saw the neat rows of bunks when he passed by a window.

Fitted with folding doors at both ends, the giant arch of an airplane hangar's roof was unmistakable at the far end of the compound. Kevin wondered if any aircraft were still available or if they'd been either taken by the fleeing military or stripped down by the scavengers. A flash of light caught his eye, and he forgot about the hangars as his attention centered in front of him. Moving around a burned out military truck with an arrow ready to fly, Kevin discovered the flash was from sunlight reflecting off the water of the bay.

Anchored in the base's private harbor, a massive transport ship floated silently. Equipped with a helipad on the forward deck, the transport ship looked seaworthy, and it made Kevin wonder why it had been abandoned.

"Think we can use that to get where we're going?" George asked, his unexpected question caused Kevin to flinch and nearly lose his hold on the bowstring.

"Could be," Kevin considered as he eased the tension on his weapon. "I wonder why it's still here. It could be filled with scavengers."

"Or zombies," George suggested. They kept their voices low to avoid drawing unwanted attention from either scavengers or the undead. They didn't know who or what might be around, but they didn't want to attract either.

"We need supplies first," Kevin stated, focusing on their immediate requirements. "Let's divide up search the various buildings for the things we need to collect. We'll meet back here when finished."

"We need to check for zombies or scavengers first," George pointed out.

"What about the one we already have?" Kevin asked, directing his attention toward the red haired woman who had been recruited into their party.

"I could use a rest from all this hurried walking we've been doing," Isabella mentioned. "Why don't I sit with her and hold down the fort here?"

"Sounds good," Kevin answered. "We'll be back soon. Stay safe."

***

Razor and Three Scar approached the encampment of the Snake Eye clan, but Razor felt decidedly uncomfortable. It brought back the unease and fear he'd felt when first dragged here seven years ago; they were not his clan but his enemies, as they had become again. If anyone suspected the truth of Three Scar and Razor planning to leave the clan and escape the zombies without them, neither Razor nor Three Scar would leave the encampment alive.

Once inside Three Scar's large tent, Razor breathed a little easier and was able to ignore his discomfort by focusing on the job of gathering weapons and supplies. He opened a large crate and began stacking everything he collected inside. While Razor filled the crate with weapons, Three Scar dumped bullets into the container, filling in any gaps between the guns.

When the box was full, Razor dropped the lid and snapped the latches down to secure it closed. Three Scar lifted one end of the crate, and Razor took the other. Carrying the heavy container outside, they walked, with more confidence than Razor felt, past the scavengers and toward the front entrance.

One of the guards eyed them suspiciously, and Razor knew they'd never leave without an explanation of some sort. He pulled up on the crate to get Three Scar's attention, and they set the box down.

Razor took a steadying breath before plunging ahead. He pointed toward the black tally marks on the guard's chest, indicating the zombies the man had killed. Using the gestural language he'd seen Three Scar use, Razor pointed toward the eastern horizon, sweeping his hands over everything and right up to the entrance where they were standing.

Opening the crate, Razor pulled out a sniper rifle he'd collected and directed the guard's vision toward a building a fair distance away. One of the tallest structures in the ruined town, it stood above the landscape and was clearly visible.

The guard nodded, accepting Razor's explanation of setting up a sniper post further out as a front line of defense. When the guard hurried away to rally the rest of the clan to defend against the incoming zombies, Razor put the gun away and latched the crate again. He and Three Scar lifted the heavy box and continued on their way without further delay or distraction.

Although they headed for the abandoned city, Razor and Three Scar changed direction the moment the intervening trees and landscape blocked the line of sight from the scavenger base. They kept hidden as they headed for military outpost, not wanting to lead the scavengers to it, but Razor couldn't shake the growing sense of urgency; it was only a matter of time before the undead actually did arrive, and even the full strength of the Snake Eye clan wouldn't be able to do anything more than slow them down. He hoped it was enough.

***

"We found some unused and unspoiled medical supplies," Kevin related to Isabella after he and George had finished checking the base for hostiles and regrouped near the docked transport ship. "We still need to secure some climbing gear for getting into the trees and for moving about in the canopy; we found it during our search of the base, but we'll need some extra hands to haul it back here."

"We're up for the challenge," Isabella said. Her voice took on a sarcastic tone. "The girl and I have been chatting away like old friends."

George tried to hide his smile, but Kevin didn't bother as both men knew the scavenger woman didn't talk. All preparation and levity instantly came to an end as the sound of intense gunfire reached their ears. The shooting of guns was quite common with survivors fighting off zombies, or scavengers attacking someone, but this was different. It wasn't the usual sparse number of rounds but hundreds, and it continued without abating.

"Scavengers?" George questioned, even though he suspected the answer already.

"No one else we know of has that much ammo to burn," Kevin replied. "The horde must have arrived. We need to hurry."

***

Kevin led Isabella and the female scavenger to where he'd found the climbing gear. George had disappeared on a retrieval mission of his own, and Kevin knew he'd be back before they were ready to leave.

As the trio was heading toward the transport ship they'd chosen as a rally point, Kevin was startled by a sudden change in the scavenger woman with them. Until now, she'd been silently accompanying them and doing her part in the carrying of the supplies, but she suddenly went tense, halting in place and pulling out the knife Three Scar had given her.

Kevin and Isabella trusted her instincts, setting down their gear and readying for a fight. Isabella checked to be sure she had a round chambered in her submachine gun, and Kevin shook his bow to snap out the folding arms into a locked position for firing; he put an arrow to the bowstring. Moving forward slowly, they discovered a man coming out of one of the military buildings.

Despite the man's slim frame, he was heavily muscled. Tattoos created colorful imagery on the back of his hands and up both arms to where they vanished under the edges of his sleeveless shirt. His head was shaved to a thin fuzz, and his partially grown beard had more black hair than what currently resided on his scalp.

When the stranger noticed them, he raised a combat knife, and the opposite hand leveled a sawed off shotgun toward the group, switching between targets and silently threatening anyone who even looked as if they would interfere.

"Whoa," Kevin said. "Who are you?"

"Since you clearly don't have a clue what's going on, that must make you the leader," the man commented, shifting the aim of his shotgun toward Kevin. He noticed the badge in his belt. "Cop, huh?"

"Used to be," Kevin replied.

"Can't say I cared much for them, even before the end of the world," the stranger said. Despite holding the shotgun at arm's length, his muscles let him keep it steady and unwavering.

"Things are different now," Kevin said, trying to defuse the situation before one or more people got killed. "My name's Kevin."

"Adam," the man stated.

"Good to meet you," Kevin said.

"You don't know that yet," Adam interrupted. "For all you know, it won't be good at all that we met."

"Let's find out," George said, appearing from around the corner of the building behind the man, sunlight flashing along the curved edge of his sword.

Adam took a quick step away, turning to face George without taking the aim of his shotgun from Kevin.

Razor and Three Scar arrived, carrying a heavy crate. When they saw the situation, they set the reinforced container down and pulled weapons of their own, aiming them at the stranger.

"This is clearly been a misunderstanding," Kevin said, keeping his voice calm despite his rapid heartbeat. "We don't have to be enemies. We're gathering a few supplies before we leave."

"I'm passing through myself," Adam explained. "You can help yourself to whatever I leave behind."

"We were here first," Kevin pointed out. "We're putting together a few things for.."

"Look, Cop," Adam interrupted. "I don't care. I don't care who you are, where you're going, or in what way you die. If it doesn't affect me, I don't care."

"I does affect you," Kevin insisted. "It affects what remains of the whole human race. This is about making sure we have a future."

"There's no such thing anymore," Adam denied. "There's only today and maybe tomorrow. Day to day is all anyone gets. I'm headed to Montana or Wyoming, one of those northern states with loads of undeveloped territory. The lower the population level, the fewer zombies."

"You won't be able to get away from the undead," Kevin warned. "They're spreading out from all infected cities, merging into larger groups. Eventually, they'll converge from all directions like ocean waters swallowing a sinking ship. They'll find you no matter where you go."

"At least I'll have a few more days," Adam responded. "When death is certain, does it matter whether it's sooner or later? The result is the same."

"We've found a different option," Kevin continued. "We're going to build an encampment in the canopy of a forest, out of their reach."

"Good luck with that," Adam said in a dismissive attitude. "I'm headed north."

Adam shifted his boot under the black backpack at his feet and kicked it, snaking his knife hand and arm through the strap and catching the pack in air without taking his eyes or his aim off of Kevin.

"Like I said, no one can guarantee more than day to day," Adam reminded. "You going to shoot? I promise you, I won't die alone."