Somewhat dazed, Peter staggered out from behind his cover, hands and shirt slick with Isabel’s blood and in to the light, “Who are you people?”

Cameron grabbed the outstretched hand and pulled the man aboard, “We're a little busy right now. I'm Cameron, that's Robert on the machine gun,” he pointed upwards, “in the roof turret is Jaira on the grenade launcher, you'll meet the rest later, for now, take the gun!”

Peter made no sound, still stunned by what had transpired in the last fifteen or twenty seconds. All he could was stand there until Cameron snapped at him, “The gun!” Cameron slid the door shut and locked it, as Robert scrambled in to the front passenger seat. Peter took a moment to get used to the weapon before him as Cameron made way to the second trailer, taking a moment to grab one of the 30 inch long cylinders from its crate as he opened the second roof hatch and clambered up the ladder, tube in hand until he was well braced, half out of the Fortress.

With the number of small fires burning and the lights of the fortress, he sighted easily upon the stripped down pickup trucks as a savage grin creased his features as flipped up the sights, lined up his shot and pressed down on the trigger, “Dodge this!”

The projectile left the launcher, the darkness hiding the passage of the missile until it struck its target several heartbeats later, another fireball blossoming, throwing more light on to a carnage strewn battlefield. From above and behind them, Natalie continued to search the battlefield. It was too bright now for night vision or thermal, and relied on her eyes. A single motorbike zipped across her scope. She resisted the urge to take the snap shot as she searched for her prey and found it. Her finger caressed the trigger and sent the last bullet in her clip through the center of the retreating motorcyclist's back, bisecting man and machine.

“Archangel,” she folded the bipod and slung the rifle that was almost as long as she was tall, “Decamping!”

To Peter the move from damnation to salvation seemed to have taken several long hours when it had only been several heart stopping minutes. The Spartans now plus one dominated the battlefield as the raiders fled in a full retreat, having left a most of their number without quarter and without mercy. Glancing at his watch, Cameron noted that it was just after five in the morning. “What a shitty way to start the day.” he groused, “Robert: double back and get Natalie, our supplies and secure our cache."

Cameron turned to their newest friend, drawing the massive machete from its resting place on his lower back to cut open the man's shirt. Peter stood without protest, realizing that one misstep and Cameron would no doubt impale him upon the blade. They rocked slightly as Robert started the engine and turned them around, “Sorry about the shirt,” Cameron was anything but sorry but he could at least be civil, “No hard feeling, but with all the blood, I didn't know if you'd been bitten. You got a name?"

"Peter... Peter Sanchez," he gasped as he collapsed against the wall, his breath coming in fits and starts as his braced himself against the wall, "My friends..." pushing himself off the wall, he fumbled with the mechanism on the door for a few moments before wrenching open and jumping from the moving vehicle.

"Shit!" Cameron hesitated for the fraction of a second, grabbing a second gun belt from its hook and jumped to hit the ground and rolled. Scrambling to his feet, he chased after Peter, advising the rest of his team that he was on foot in pursuit.

Acknowledgments came through and Robert advised they would be back to pick them up in a few minutes, even as the rifle slung across Cameron's back came in to his hands. He stopped short, near the barrels. He didn't have to see to know that whoever was there was dead.

Turning his gaze towards the rising sun, he spied movement amongst the wreckage and dropped to one knee, brought the rifle to bear on the exposed head and fired. He swept forward and made his way to the second body, dressed in civilian clothes, noting the lack of any protective body armor and the line of holes across her back. His ear piece crackled with the report that the last of their gear was loaded and that pick up was on its way.

Cameron paused for a moment, and hoisted the corpse on to his shoulder, finding her to be surprisingly light and carried her back towards the barrels where the rest would join them. Peter was leaning against the wall, and from the way his shoulders shook, he was holding back tears.

Peter didn’t say anything but just stood back and watched as the Fortress stopped next to them and disgorged its crew. The remains of his comrades were carefully sealed in body bags and brought aboard. Cameron waited a moment, giving the dead the respect that they were due before turning to their shirtless acquaintance, "Peter right?" he nodded, "Good. What where you and your friends doing out here?"

He stared for a moment at the remains being placed aboard, "Medications. We needed medicines back at our community and food and some other things too. We were part of a supply convoy that was in Shasta Lake City. When the raiders hit us, we got separated from the rest of the convoy and we kept running, trying to shake them off."

"You were running your raid in the middle of the night?"

"It tends to be the best time because normally the raiders stay inside at night so the only problem is the zombies which at least, don't shoot back. But these raiders, they're the same ones that have been hassling us for some time but they came, better armed this time, with rifles and more vehicles instead of pistols and shotguns" he explained.

Cameron nodded in the direction of the truck, " I had to toast their trucks... probably took out a portion of your stash as well. What goods were you carrying?"

“I already told you: medications, cleaning agents and hygiene supplies, a little food and water,” grief warred within Peter, that much was clear even though he was doing his best to keep them under control, “Its Cameron isn't it?”

“Yeah,” was the reply as the radio crackled and he replied. Numerous small fires burned out, smoke drifting away on a gentle breeze that helped to hide the twin stench of blood and death. Peter stared at where his comrade's body had been. He looked over his shoulder, and eyed the hospital building close by. The undead would definitely be on their way, falling down the stairs in the hospital at least, “Mount up!” he ordered, “Robert, bring us up to the van, Natalie: keep an eye on the hospital, everyone else, salvage op! Tag everything we take,” he gave Peter a look even as he spoke for the benefit of his team, “Whatever comes out of that van belongs to our new friend Peter.”

Peter blinked in surprise, “What?”

He gestured towards the end of the second trailer, where the bodies lay, “Your friends gave their lives for what's in that van... and I figure that since we're going to be taking you home, we might as well take your cargo home with you too.” Peter’s smile was grim and whatever he was about to say was lost as Cameron thrust the gun belt in to his chest. “Standard M9 9mm Beretta. There is one clip in the gun, an extra round in the chamber and you've got an additional three clips on the belt.” Cameron stayed silent for a moment, “You should also know that the nearest hospital is about twenty five feet that way with a couple of hundred zombies in that building.”

He took the offered belt, “What makes you think that I'll just let you “take me home”?!”

The trio of ladies froze for only an instant but then kept moving, and while Cameron may have missed the microsecond pause in his crew as he sized Peter up, “Tell you what, if my... if our offer sucks,” he gestured to the gun belt, “You keep that, and you can bloody well walk home!”

Jaira was the first in to the verbal sparring match as she knew that she had some leverage, “Cameron back off a bit,” she pushed him and spun him around, “The guy's just lost two friends, nearly been killed and now you're threatening to abandon him in the middle of nowhere with a mess of zombies round the corner?” she slapped him across the back of the head, “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Cameron bristled at the implications behind her words, “You think I'd actually leave somebody out there? When did you become a major player in the stupid stakes?” he turned towards Peter, “We get your cargo, you go home, we come with you.”

Peter nodded his acceptance of the blunt no bullshit terms, “You going to have sentries posted?”

“We always do,” was the reply as they checked their weapons one final time as the fortress halted alongside the brutalized van. A quick glance inside made it clear that there would be no real sorting, just a snatch and bag as they filled a half dozen large duffel bags with the majority of the van's contents before a string of explosions ripped through the air and a flare soared skyward. The grenade traps inside the building had slowed them down, the ones outside had probably shredded a dozen more but a firefight on the ground would be risky, “Fallback!” ordered Cameron.

Peter hesitated for only a moment, almost dropping the bag he was carrying as he hightailed it back to the Fortress, the other Spartans running alongside him as they clambered aboard the fortress as the undead swarmed out of the ruined hospital towards the sound on the engine, stutter stepping as they seemed to sniff the air before moving in their general direction. Robert moved the fortress in to position, at Cameron instruction and with the side door open, he took careful aim, using single shots to dispatch the undead as they staggered towards the Fortress, Natalie and Jaira kept watch, the heavy guns trained on the flanks of the horde to prevent any stragglers from getting away. Peter hefted a rifle from the weapon rack, snapping a clip home with practiced ease before joining Cameron. Cameron stole a sidelong glance at Peter, “Got a personal vendetta?”

“Doesn't every living human have a vendetta against them?” came the reply as the rifle clicked empty, and he swapped out the empty clip for a fresh one, “Head shots don't always work do they?”

“Sometimes the round doesn't punch through but bounces off or just skirts along their skulls. Don't ask me why. I'm no specialist – all I know is that when you aim for the head, four times out of five, they go down and they stay down.” replied Cameron, stealing another sidelong glance at the sandy haired, brown eyed shooter.

“Isn’t that the truth,” grunted Peter. The duo continued their execution on the horde, and after expending nearly five clips, plus several short bursts from the machine guns, over one hundred and fifty of the undead had been slain and the stockpile of weapons, vehicles and ammunition that they had secured inside some of the deeper reaches of the base were secure. The armored door slid shut and they were moving off the base, heading south towards the destination provided: Redding, California

“Just remember that these raiders crawl out of Shasta Lake city on a fairly regular bi-weekly basis.” Cameron filled the warning about the raiders away for future reference, as they made their way back on to Route 97. They had at least two days travel before they would get to the interchange that would get them back on to Freeway 5 towards Redding – once they cut their way through Shasta Lake City and the raiders.

“They really, really took a wrong turn,” thought Cameron to himself.