Sam had indeed unpacked their lunches by the time Rebecca found her again under the shade of a tree with Christine and Patrick. She'd... probably waited to hear Rhonda's radio orders for teams to rotate through whatever breaks they needed to take? The girls felt a little out-domesticated by the insulated steel containers of thick soup Patrick revealed, but swiftly bartered portions of the remaining bread loaf (that of course Sam had brought along) for half of one to dip the remaining bread in themselves.

The primal little dose of social contentment helped Rebecca continue to breathe easier. Cat and her traveling horde hadn't shown up yet, so she was sitting with her back against the tree and Sam leaning on her as best their armor would allow, while Chrissie lay on the grass watching clouds go by with her head in Patrick's cross-legged lap. Rebecca let out a long, relieved sigh that made Sam look up.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah, getting there. You know, I had a thought that you're going to like."

"Oh? Go on..."

Rebecca let out a short chuckle, barely more than a forceful exhale. "If you like that picture of me in my college volleyball attire so much... you're going to really want to get my laptop charged up."

The mischievous smirk was audible in Sam's voice. "Oooh. Are there naughty pics from back in the day?"

"Hah! Maybe only by my mom's standards." Rebecca paused to laugh a little and reminisce. "She took me to Thailand to celebrate getting through my first year of college. It was wonderful... the temples, the beaches... but she wasn't ready for the ever-shrinking trends in swimwear. She almost had a heart attack when I took my sarong off to dive in, but... I finally managed to get her to take a few pictures with that amazing bay in the background."

"Hah. So you're saying the 'freshman fifteen' did your figure some good?" Sam gave Rebecca a suggestive looking-over.

"No, no... you can thank grandma Miri... Miranda... for my one-quarter-Cuban pelvic geometry that you seem to appreciate so much." She teasingly rolled her eyes at Sam. "Anyway, I heard about it for days, and she made me promise to never post the pictures online. With that scenery though... I tell you, I felt like a model on a postcard or magazine cover."

"So I have my very own would-be Instagram travel 'influencer' girl?"

"Something like that. Are you gonna take me anywhere fun when the apocalypse is over?"

"Maybe, my credit card miles are probably all going to expire by then though. Did Jaime ever get to see? Sounds like they'd have made one hell of a dating profile."

"Yeah, but I never sent them, he only got to see on my computer after we got together."

"Mmm. Well, I'd like to join that exclusive club, so you bet I'm going to get that thing powered up again. The best I have to offer is a few pics in the Ren Faire outfit I specifically chose to show off my tattoo when it was new."

The radio interrupted their banter as Rebecca held one earmuff closer to listen as she smiled at Sam. "Well, I'd consider that an equitable trade. But let's go see about those solar panels so you can work your miracles, huh?

**

Rebecca made her way to Rhonda's side after the call from the crossroads announced Cat's approach. She could tell Ronnie looked her over as she approached and seemed to approve of her mood, and returned the nod of greeting she got.

"Hey kid. Sounds like your pal came through."

"Yeah, she might be a bit thorny sometimes, but even back when I knew her in school, she always delivered if she said she would. She might outright refuse to do something if she thought it was bullshit, but you'd know it, and if talked into it, she'd still follow through even if she wasn't happy about it."

"I guess it can be good to have more than one kind of straight shooter around." Rhonda turned her head to look back down the approach road. When the unconventional convoy cleared the turn, the lead vehicle was one of those small flatbed trucks, like a big gardening service or small hauling company might use. The kind with a large pickup cab on the front, and a flat bed over the rear frame, bordered by slats or plywood walls.

Only in this case, the walls had either been replaced or augmented with metal sheets. The front bumper had an aftermarket brush guard on it, like cop vehicles or enthusiast 4x4's... with extra metal plating welded or bolted on covering the entire front except for the cutouts around the headlights. Clearly they'd prioritized protecting the radiator and engine. It looked like metal flaps rested atop the cab, where they could swing down on crude, bulky hinges to cover the cab windows, which were already reinforced with segments of cyclone fencing over the windows — maybe to protect the glass from the armored slats, or thrown objects while the flaps were up. And, sticking up from the back on some kind of post was a distinctively military machine gun with steel plates on either side of it, providing cover for a gunner, at least in whichever direction they were pointing it.

Fortunately for everyone's nerves, it was currently resting with the muzzle up in the air, and the guy behind it was hanging on to the gunner's shield and the walls of the cargo bed to stabilize himself as the truck drove. Still, Rebecca heard some kind of noise — a sigh or maybe a hiss — from Rhonda next to her, followed by a quiet epithet. "Well, fuck."

"What's wrong?" Rebecca wasn't sure if she should be worried about something and frowned slightly.

"I just never thought I'd see a technical on US soil."

"A what?"

"Improvised fighting vehicle, usually a civilian pickup, modified with a heavy gun. Not usually with that much armor added on, but I guess she cares more about survivability than your usual warlord. I'm just glad there isn't much leftover Soviet triple-A laying around."

Rebecca managed to derive that she meant anti-aircraft guns, not roadside assistance agencies. (She'd actually be pretty happy for the latter.) "And that if there were, at least it's in friendly hands?"

"Yeah, this one anyway. I'm giving her the benefit on the doubt on how she procured that MG, but if she's got one... worse people do too."

That wasn't a pleasant deduction. "Ugh. Well... small favors, right?"

"Take what we can get, I guess. Given her fondness for authority figures... you up for doing the talking?"

"Yeah, of course." Rebecca took a step back from Ronnie and turned away to where her friends waited a few dozen feet away.

Sam hadn't been close enough to hear much of the conversation, but obviously had been watching Rhonda's reactions. "Sarge isn't too happy to see that kind of hardware rolling around, huh?"

"Nooope." Rebecca shook her head.

Patrick spoke up. "It's not that much different than having a big gun on some sandbags at Broadway or the new buildings is it?"

"I think part of the problem is symbolism... but also maybe because that...." (Rebecca inclined her head towards the approaching caravan) "... can be used offensively. An emplaced weapon at our gates is hard to make anything other than defensive. It also raises the specter of more people doing the same thing." Her explanation elicited a nod and a chagrined expression from Patrick as he weighed the implications. Meanwhile, she looked to Sam. "You up for a chat with the neighbors?"

"Of course, sugar. I wouldn't want anyone to try and steal away my tourism spokesmodel while I'm just standing around."

Rebecca chuckled, rolled her eyes, and shook her head lovingly. "You have nothing to worry about. I don't think any of them can get my laptop going again."

Sam fell into stride beside her. "At least I know why you keep me around now."

"Fair trade for body heat, me thinks," Rebecca quipped back. They lapsed into amicable silence for the several yards to where the nomad scavenger convoy was slowing to a halt. The driver of the big armored brute looked familiar, so Rebecca exchanged nods with him as she went down the line looking for Catherine.

She found her two cars back in a lavishly, perhaps even opulently appointed Lexus, and heard the distinctive whine of an electric motor as it pulled up in front of her. Cat opened the driver's door and stood, grinning at Rebecca's quizzical raised eyebrow. "Hey, so I took a page out of your book and got a hybrid. Whaddya think?"

Rebecca looked it over, from the sparkly paint to the leather seats and fancy controls inside. "I think I don't want to know what the sticker price was..."

"Ahh, don't worry about details like that. If you ever want to borrow it for a spin, let me know, I also have a Mercedes hidden away for when we have more diesel than gas. 40-something miles per gallon! Well worth wasting a small fraction of that on the seat warmer the last few weeks though, I tell you." Cat's grin was irreverent and cheshire-worthy. Rebecca was somewhat proud of the pun, but kept it to herself, along with any moral debates about scavenging for essentials or looting luxuries. Sure, they'd allowed themselves fancy kitchenware, comfortable furniture, and cozy blankets, but... those were a far cry from luxury cars. Still, Cat wasn't hurting anyone to get them (assuming she was sticking to her original ways and promises to Rebecca) and they were otherwise just sitting around. Anyway.

Rebecca looked past Cat's car to the truck behind her (which was followed by a pickup and a van) and its big boom. Apparently she'd found scrounged it from a big tree trimming service — the bucket arm was folded over the large enclosed back area a tree chipper would ordinarily spew into, and the whole thing was a verdant green, with bright yellow lettering on the sides proclaiming it originally was in the service of Anderson Arborists. Not the cable company truck that she'd had in mind, but... it seemed to suit their core need. "Thanks a bunch for finding that."

Cat turned to look at the truck over her shoulder, then back to Rebecca, still leaning on the open car door. "Yeah, it wasn't too big of a problem. It had a pretty full tank, so depending on how much more of it you use, we might be able to just drain it to replenish what we used finding it and come out close to even." Cat was usually pretty straightforward in her dealings with Rebecca — as long as she and her people came out ahead, she didn't look to set Rebecca and her community back. She was plain about her priorities, but perfectly open to mutually beneficial situations. Rebecca was willing to place a significant bet that Cat no idea what she had up her sleeve to tell her about though.

"Sure... well, if you do need a top-off for you troubles, that's fine. I know you're not keen on remnants of the old establishments, but... our new friends come bearing access to hundreds of thousands of gallons of gas, fuel oil, and all that."

Cat was rarely speechless, but that did it, at least for a few seconds before she recovered. "Holy. Shit. Where'd they pull that out of their ass? Were they hoarding it as shit went down?"

"So cynical." Sam's little jibe easily came off as routine teasing, but Rebecca knew that their collaboration with Cat carried an additional cost of a little lingering insecurity on Sam's part about Catherine being the first Rebecca had realized an attraction to. She'd admitted she knew rationally she didn't have the least little thing to worry about after some very heartfelt attempts at reassurance by Rebecca — and after they'd essentially fed Sebastien to Cat as a willing but perhaps outmatched boy-toy — but the anxiety still lurked, and she felt bad about it sometimes. Maybe that led her to try to play off her slip-up further. "They found it, silly. Just like you and your resourceful little clan. Apparently it was at a pipeline distribution substation by the river."

"Huh." Cat tapped her chin thoughtfully with her other arm folded across her abdomen, attention to any slight stolen away by the revelation of new resource information. "We've been checking truck stops, big farms, whatever propane and gas stations didn't already have 'sold out' signs all over them. Pipelines are something that bears more research. Maybe the county assessor's office..." Cat's voice trailed off as she clearly organized some mental notes for later, then she circled back to the present. "Well, if the pipelines were twenty feet off the ground, we'd have noticed them ourselves... so what fruit are you plucking with that contraption there?"

"A solar panel array just the other side of the woods. Way better than the random stuff we've scrounged up before. Sam's..." (Rebecca took the opportunity to reach her hand out and brush her fingers against Sam like an innocent conversation gesture, but really to make a brief physical connection...) "... going to have a whole lot more to work with by the time we're done!"

"Again, huh. You're full of surprises today. Where are these, over at the National Guard office by the expressway? How do you know they're still there?"

Rebecca pointed up. "Smile, you're on camera. I mean, I don't know where it actually is right now, but Ronnie's pals have recon drones too."

Cat glanced down at the car, feigning self-consciousness. "Well. I guess I'm getting a lump of coal in my stocking. Worth it, though." She looked up at the buildings around them. "You been to your place yet?"

Rebecca made a sour face. "Meh. My old place. We got a few things. Couple squatters, seemed alright enough at first but the guy tried to take Sam's gun. She kicked his ass."

"Really now?" Cat glanced Sam over with an appraising look — not much unlike the first time they met and Sam had set her jaw and didn't break eye contact, all while maintaining a polite smile.

"Well, technically I head butted him in the face..." (Sam rapped her knuckles on her helmet) "... kicked his knee out from under him, and punched him in the kidney. But yeah, you know." She shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.

Cat grinned, again with similar amused respect to last time around. "I always knew you punched above your weight, cutie."

Rebecca broke back in. "So... speaking of contraptions. What's up with the beast up front?"

Rebecca wondered if Cat's facial muscles ever tired of grinning, or if at some point her mom had been right and it got stuck that way. "Oh, don't worry. It's mostly a visual deterrent, and we looted the gun fair and square from a guard tower at an abandoned outpost. Seems like with the assholes you told us about last year wandering around, it can't hurt to have a little firepower, right? Turns out Jessie's a pretty good welder and we knew where to find a mostly full tank of acetylene, so, tada, battle wagon. Oh, and Sam, you'll like this. The doors? Armored with phone books inside the panels. Literally right out of Mythbusters."

Sam quirked an eyebrow. "Huh. You're not wrong, I am kinda impressed. But you know one phone book only stopped small arms fire in the actual episode, right? You need two for rifle rounds."

Cat frowned and look back at the truck, flipping some of her dark hair out of her face. "Shit. I guess we have some upgrading to do. Do you know how hard it is to find phone books this decade?"

"Auto parts store. Sure, people will have looted everything else, but I'm pretty sure they left the part catalogs behind."

Again, Cat paused thoughtfully. "Huh. You really are pretty damned smart. If Rebecca ever treats you wrong, you can come ride with us any time."

Sam blinked — and here she was worried about having Rebecca pilfered away from her, not the other way around. "Thanks... but I like my big warm stationary bed."

Rebecca was pretty sure there had been the tiniest hint of emphasis on "warm", and that it was likely a little signal to her. A verbal equivalent of the finger brush a minute ago, perhaps. "Yeah, and, uh, I kinda miss it right now, so maybe we should finish standing around yapping and get a move on, huh?" Cat shrugged and waved her hand in a "Well, lead on!" sort of fashion, and Sam stepped back and aside with a synonymous lifted eyebrow. So, Rebecca started to lead the two of them back towards where Ronnie waited with Epstein near the cargo truck. Along the way, Cat spoke up again.

"So... if Ronnie doesn't like the truck with the gun... don't let her look in the van in back."

"Uh, what? Why not?" Rebecca didn't like the sound of that.

"It has another machine gun inside. It's not as useful, it can only fire out of the side or rear door on its little track, but it makes a good spiked tail for the end of our convoys. That one, we actually didn't make. The original owners weren't very nice to other people, so now it's ours and they're not anyone's problem anymore."

"Huh." Rebecca hoped Cat still wasn't the sort to use a door gun in a drive-by (on anyone who didn't deserve it, apparently) and decided to worriedly file that one with Patrick's "sandbags" theory.