That brought a brief round of chuckles and smiles, and it was heartwarming to Cameron, behind his impassive face that his crew were still capable of a laugh and a smile, no matter how bad things got, and more importantly, the fact that they had not lost sight of the bigger, and more important picture. Robert had an answer, “I know just the place: Parks Army Base which just happens to be in California, quite close to us.”

“How do you know about military bases?” asked Cameron.

“Call it random luck,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “The first take down I made was outside the base itself – turned out it was an off duty Sergeant trying to make it to the base hospital because his wife was in labor,” he smiled at the memory, “I followed him on to the base and to the hospital just to make sure that he wasn’t trying to get out of a ticket.”

“What happened next?” poked Nastia.

“I got to meet the Sergeant’s son the next day. We became pretty good friends over the years and I had his help in an arms smuggling case where military hardware was being sold to rival street gangs.” Silence descended for a moment, as they all realized that they were all dead.

Cameron covered quickly, “Right… we refuel and then make our way to the base. We’ll camp on its perimeter tonight and hit the base tomorrow. Questions?” there were none. He nodded, “Grab your gear.” The meeting broke up on that note, but as always it was with the knowledge that they had a purpose and a direction to move forward. It was a “something” that kept them all from thinking too much about the future and or the past and what could have been.

Lacking proper body armor, they had made do with what they had: Heavy boots with thick denim jeans for the lower body. Upper body protection was comprised of simple Kevlar vests with a heavy leather jacket, or something that would be able to shrug off a bite attack but as the saying went, “Where there is one zombie, you'll be counting plenty more.” Cameron as always, found himself wishing that they had suppressed weapons, or silencers for their firearms. Even a small Beretta Bobcat allowed for the elimination of the undead at a relatively safe distance. But the noise was also effective at attracting the unwanted attention from other nearby zombies.

With the Spartan crew ready, they opened the armored sliding door on the side and Cameron was the first to the ground, covering Nastia and Jaira who lugged the heavy crank operated fuel siphon between them to the ground. Jaira deftly opened the top of the underground fuel tank while Nastia setup the pump and filler hose. The connection in place she began turning the crank, sucking up and then spitting diesel fuel into the empty caverns that were their fuel tanks.

Robert stayed at the wheel of the vehicle but kept a cautious watch upon their front arc as Cameron covered the left arc along with Nastia, weapons tracking back and forth ensuring overlapping patterns of coverage as they watched the zone. Natalie had thrown open the roof flap and was stretched out on the heavy transparent plastic mounted to protect the solar panels as she scanned the area surrounding them through the scope of her sniper rifle.

The knowledge that she was so well protected gave Jaira a sense of comfort as she continued to turn the handle, pumping precious fuel and making too much noise in the process. Luck ran out, proving she is a fickle mistress as from nowhere a dead women staggered from around the truck stop, taking no notice of them as she continued to stagger onwards with someplace to go and something important to do. Jaira’s hand slipped and she overbalanced, crashing in to the side of the Fortress. The zombie paused, and sniffed the air, her head thrown back with her mouth lolling open. That was when others started to stream out of the truck stop’s small market and office, as more appeared from behind the building. Cameron took careful aim with the MP-5 and sent a single bullet in to the woman’s left temple, “Contact!” he hissed. She fell but not before a fat dead woman came forward out of the darkened interior of the truck stop’s mini-mart.

Natalie pulled the trigger and the Austrian designed Steyr Scout sent her first bullet of the engagement through the fat woman’s forehead. She swung the rifle on its bipod and set her sights on the doorway of the truck stop. She fired again and blew the top portion of a young man’s head off. Cameron held his ground, taking precise single shots, and double tapping where necessary as he cut down the advancing undead, as Nastia joined in. Natalie' focus upon the mini-mart had jammed the doorway as the undead tripped and stumbled over each other. She caught the movement peripherally and swung her rifle. The shot took a zombie circling around the far side of the pumps through the neck and dropped the creature. It didn’t rise, “How’s it going?”

“Full tank!” Jaira replied while pulling up the hose and replacing the cap, “Cover me!” Cameron grunted in irritation as he dropped the spent MP-5, letting it dangle from its strap as he drew the first pair of Glocks from their thigh holsters and continued to execute the oncoming dead. Both guns ran dry as he slapped them back in to their holsters and cross drew his second pair of Glocks. Nastia called she was reloading and the gunfire tapered off for a moment before Nastia’s MP-5 rejoined the fray. Down to half on both guns, he was relieved when he heard the shouted magic word, “Clear!”

When they had first started roaming the ruins of America, there had been some concern as to whether there was sufficient fuel available to keep the fortress rolling. But with so few people left alive to drive, and the sheer number of petrol stations in towns, cities and truck stops along the interstate highways meant thousands of gallons of fuel left for the taking. “S-S-D-D,” grunted Robert from the driver's seat as he turned the key and brought the engine to life. Cameron grabbed one side of the pump and pushed Jaira on board as bullet’s whistled through the air behind him, practically throwing himself inside, the door slammed shut behind him as they pulled out of the truck stop and made their way towards their next destination: Parks Army Base.

They passed through the small community on the outskirts of the base, only to stir up the undead as usual. Controlled shots killed the undead that wandered to close but they otherwise ignored them as they left the ghost town .Only a few minutes later, they rolled up on the base and its chain link and barbed wire fence perimeter. Their first sight of the base was nothing encouraging: Its fences were flattened. The gatehouse and vehicles parked there had been overrun by the dead. Several defenders lay where they had fallen, rifles and pistols near some of the skeletal remains. A true sense of abandonment lurked amongst the buildings that they could see. The defenders had clearly failed to consider that the gates would stand while the chain link fence would give way under the press of bodies. “What do you think?” asked Jaira.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” replied Robert, “this base was the rally point for between five and ten thousand army reserve soldiers. The national guard was activated when the dead were deemed a serious problem… but there no telling whether they all mobilized or evacuated or whether there’s a couple of thousand zombies inside.”

“We setup for the night and hit the base as first light.” ordered Cameron, “Standard watches tonight, and watch out for that undead we passed to get here – they might just be following us,” business concluded he grinned at the gathering, “Who’s cooking dinner tonight?”

The lights were turned to their usual low settings with only one small lamp in the cab and whatever personal bedside lights at around ten in the evening as everyone retreated to their bunks and pulled the curtains closed to gain a small measure of privacy as they settled down to sleep, the end of another day that was more or less routine since they took to the road. The first watch was quiet for Cameron; Jaira relieved him at midnight, “Nothing to report.”

She brushed against him as they traded places in the front passenger seat of the cab, “How’s your day been? S-S-D-D?” her hand rested briefly on his shoulder and he broke in to a smile and gave a gentle laugh. Every time they switched over, they took a few minutes for conversation. But like always, Cameron brushed aside her concern about how his day was with the typical nonchalant shrug of his shoulders but something made him hesitate this time, as he glanced in to her eyes for just a brief moment and saw something he’d seen there before, but was unwilling to take advantage off again, until tonight.

He wrestled with himself and his conscience for a few long moments, and knew that her responsibilities and by extension his to everyone else meant that like the past few nights, he would not be able to do anything about it. He shrugged his shoulders, “S-S-D-D.”

She smiled and he did the same, before squeezing past her, the full body contact giving them both a moment’s pause. She licked her lips hungrily as he retreated through the flexible tunnel to the armored trailers. She knew he’d settle into the lowest bunk on the bottom right side of the fortress as she settled in to the already warmed seat – one of the few advantages of having the second watch of the night.

Cameron was tired enough to not even think about anything as he kicked off his boots and hung up the holsters on the hooks bolted to the wall and collapsed on to his bunk, not bothering with even the mussed blanket at the foot of the bunk. Having had the last watch the previous night, his day had been particularly long. He had only a moment to puzzle over the faint scent of jasmine or cherry blossom on his pillow as he closed his eyes voluntarily to let the comforting darkness of sleep take him as his last thought of the day came unbidden to his mind, “Same Shit, Different Day.”