The walking dead had made firearm proficiency a requirement to live and in Redding, new arrivals were required to demonstrate their proficiency and if found lacking to train with their weapon of choice. The fortress crew were exempted as they had demonstrated their proficiencies with firearms of all make and caliber and participated in Redding’s shooting competitions simply for bragging rights along with some friendly gambling.

The firearms policy in Redding meant that children were given their first weapon at the age of seven with semi-automatic .22 caliber loaded with hollow point bullets. Birthdays in Redding were new milestones as specific birthday “unlocked” new classes of firearms, large caliber hand guns at the age of ten, shotguns at thirteen and submachine guns and assault rifles at fifteen. Some opted for sharpshooting and started their training at fifteen. Firearms were for survival and protection against the dead and in Redding and there was no crime in Redding. Everyone had been involved or at the very least seen a zombie attack and that was incentive enough to follow the rules. Stupidity could result in extra guard duty or time in the crop fields but the only punishment for a major crime was banishment, with a gun, three clips of ammunition and whatever they could carry.

Redding had thrived from its humble beginnings at the Redding Inn, and after almost two years survivors still showed up on Redding’s doorstep, sometimes solo, but more often in small mounted or motorized groups. All had been made welcome, and some, according to Peter had been turned away after they had made it clear that Redding’s laws were not agreeable to them. The fortress crew had split up generally helping out where they could. Under the supervision of several of the more experienced instructors, Natalie was holding class for the three children that had just turned seven years old. She wore the pistol in a thigh holster and when she had their attention, she faced the target and executed a blinding fast draw and fired. The entire clip tore a large ragged hole in the center of the paper target some twenty feet down range. She smiled and ejected the spent clip and slapped home a fresh one, “Beretta 21 Bobcat, blowback semi-automatic pistol with a double action trigger and seven round magazine chambered for .22 caliber,” she gestured to the collection of gun belts hanging on the wall. “Each of you gets one gun, three clips and you will learn how to shoot. But first,” she smiled evilly, “How many of you know how to clean and maintain one of these?” That question brought a round of shrugs and then groans, “Exactly. First you learn how to clean one.”

Robert and Nastia were both working closely with the rest of Redding's mechanics to straighten out the mess of crisscrossed wires that made up the electrical wiring of the fortress from the solar panels to the batteries mounted under the floor to the various electrical systems. Robert stuck his head out from the fortress, “Hydro-spanner!”

Nastia leaned over the edge of the roof, “What?” her red hair caught the sunlight as she wiped her hands on a rag, “What the hell is a hydrospanner?”

The two were only a few inches apart from one another, “I just made it up,” he joked, “I need the engineering screwdriver to test a connection.”

She pulled herself up top, rummaging in the toolbox for a moment as she grasped the handle of the screwdriver before leaning back over the edge, waving it, “I got it!”

His hand reached out, flailing blindly in search for the screwdriver until his hand made contact with hers. He didn't pull back immediately as she blinked in surprise. She leaned back over the edge until she was half in and half out, as her eyes met his. He let go almost as if he'd been burned in those few seconds and snatched the screwdriver with a mumbled, “thanks.” Nastia chuckled as she pulled herself back on to the roof to continue hardwire the solar panels in to place.

Cameron was nowhere to be found, but then again, neither was Jaira as they just walked, wandering through the more deserted sections of Redding. They had wound up along the boundary of the community that bordered on deep ravine that encircled them from the south east to the western side of the community. Apart from the few sentries in the guard towers, they were alone and Cameron wasn't talking, just listening as Jaira talked. They had spent much of the past few days alone, keeping to themselves but those who had known Cameron the longest could see the change in him, as he had thawed out, actually revealing the presence of a sense of humor, and the couple had joined several of the community’s hunting expeditions.

Zombies, for some unknown reason never went after animals and as a result the population of smaller mammals such as rabbits and squirrels had exploded. But there were few complaints as the creatures provided both fresh meat and suitable moving target practice. Peter had figured that it would be a few more years before larger animals such as deer would get out of control.

Jaira and Cameron were part of a hunting party, and were crouched twenty feet from the closest person. They had been tracking the small herd of deer for the better part of half an hour but had yet to actually spot any of the herd. They had taken cover when voices reached them from a clearing not more than ten meters ahead.

The hunters were some of the most skilled shooters at Redding's disposal, most capable of plucking the eye out of a zombie's head at over four hundred meters with their bolt action hunting rifles, and for the moment, the group of ten had spread out amongst the tree line that skirted the edge of the encampment, composed of six people with four vehicles setup up in a semi-circle to offer some protection. With the hunting party in possession of clear lines of sight, Cameron and Jaira had sat back and watched as the leader of the party stepped from the brush and introduced him. While too far away to hear more than the occasional word brought to them by the wind, a few things were immediately clear: This ragged group were looking for a place to call home.

The small group was granted access to Redding, their vehicles and persons all checked as was the norm when he was patted down. Peter was waiting for them and he nodded in Cameron’s direction, “I'm going to give them the big speech. Care to join us?” asked Peter. Cameron looked across at Jaira, who gave him a soft smile before he pulled her in to a brief kiss.

All Peter could do was shake his head.... he had no idea what had happened to Cameron, or between Cameron and Jaira that night, but Cameron was happier, more normal person for it, “Get a room or follow me. You can't do both.” He teased playfully.

Jaira blushed as they broke it up and she turned mumbling something about a shower and him not taking too long. He playfully slapped her on behind and all she could do was glare at him for an instant as she laughed. Cameron had to hurry to catch up to Peter, and give him the news, “We're going to be hitting the road in two days,” he said.

Peter nodded, “I figured it if wasn't tomorrow, it would be by the end of the week,” Peter slapped him on the back, “I guess that gives us a chance to throw you a farewell party.”

Cameron laughed, “So long as there is welcome back party.”

The two men walked over to the single building with the vehicles of the new arrivals parked alongside it, where Peter sized up the vehicles and reminded Cameron of the standing policy when it came to new arrivals in Redding, “If you work and contribute, you will have a place to call home. If you don't, you go.” It was a far cry over what other communities existed out there. While mostly rumor, there were confirmed cases of communities that exposed hatreds ranging from racism to supposedly one community in Carson City that was a fascist state with all of the evils that such a moniker implied.

Peter lead the way to a room, outside which a dozen armed members of the community were clearly waiting for something. Amongst those waiting were a couple of teenagers, armed with shotguns, handguns riding on their hip. Most of the new arrivals were shocked to see children, albeit teenagers armed but it was a fact of life. The room they entered was, to Cameron's eye, dedicated to the specific purpose of “the big speech.” The walls were washed white, with nothing but four rows of chairs occupying most of the space. They split up, Cameron heading to the back of the room as Peter began the speech, not bothering with introductions.

“Welcome to Redding. There are a few rules that come with living in this community, the first few are the most important as they apply to you as of this moment: Rule number one: If you stay, then you have to work and contribute. Rule number two: If you don't know how to shoot, you will learn how. If you can shoot, we'll see if we need to make you a better shot than you are now.” He held everyone's attention as he panned his eyes across the room, “Rule number three: A full physical examination to make sure that you’re in good health.” Peter paused as he handed out round a stack of clipboards and pens, “These are questionnaires that I'd like you to fill out. It’s just so that we can figure out where you'd do the most good.”

A man, middle aged, wearing jeans and red checked shirt raised his hand, and unnoticed by anyone else, Cameron hand slid down to his thigh holster where he undid the catch, his paranoid nature getting the better of him. The man stood and wiped his palms on his hands, “Afraid that I can't read or write,”

Peter didn’t make an issue out of it, as it had happened several times in Redding’s past, “Alright. What you name?”

“William but everyone just calls me Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” he shook the man's hand and Peter assessed the handshake as being strong and firm meaning, “So tell me, what kind of skills do you have?”

“I never went to school but my dad did show me how to use tools ... general construction and some maintenance type work, mostly plumbing though. I have some experience with livestock... cows, chickens, goats that kind of thing and I even know a thing or two about horses and animal doctoring.”

“General construction type work we don't have much use for at the moment, but what you know about animals will definitely be useful – we've got plans to try and bring in animals in the next couple of months thought. I suppose you know how to shoot?”

Will smiled, as he realized that he was welcome in Redding, “I've been hunting with a shotgun since I was about fourteen...broke my nose the first time I used the one too,” he said, with a hint of a nervous smile.

Peter laughed, “Excellent! I've got a pretty good idea about where to place you. You'll still have to go through firearms training with everyone else,” Peter called one of those waiting outside, “Take Will here to the vehicles so that he can get his stuff and then on to the hospital,” Peter turned, “Sorry Will but that's how we do things.”

Will just shook his head and smiled, not too concerned so long as he was accepted and had a place to call home. The others were in the middle of their questionnaires when the well-dressed man in half a suit stood, “You would allow such an uneducated person to stay and participate in your community?” Cameron realized that his instincts had been wrong about Will, but were right on the money when he'd realized that there was a trouble maker in this bunch. He was educated, intelligent, the kind that would have been called a “nerd” in high school. He may have been unclear as to the alternatives, but it seemed the gentleman had the overwhelming need to speak up and alienate himself.

“Who, are you?” asked a nonchalant Peter.

"Dr. Thomas Chase Sebastian House PhD. I have traveled with my five companions, none of whom are qualified to deal with this situation, and neither are any of you. As such, I refuse to be a party to your ignorance and stupidity and demand that you put me in touch with the closest government or military official sir!" Thomas clearly had a pole up shoved so far up his ass that it should have caused some degree of paralysis.

“There is no government official left alive to be contacted, and the military has shattered and no longer exists as a unified whole.” Peter’s tone had gone dangerously quiet, “I suggest that you complete the questionnaire, and we find a place where you can fit in, here in Redding.” Peter was calm, but Cameron had seen the flash of anger that Thomas had either ignored or had not seen. Thomas’s refusal was calmly accepted as Peter snapped his fingers, bringing two armed men in to the room, “If you do not wish to be a party of us, then you are not welcome here,” said Peter as two armed men appeared from outside the room, “You have worn out your welcome in Redding. These gentlemen will escort you to the front gate. Do not come back."

Two years in to the nightmare and some still refused to accept, refused to see and understand that survival not only meant adaptation but also working together. The other survivors dutifully filled out the questionnaire placed before them before being escorted to Redding's Hospital. Peter had made the same decision on several occasions and it brought him no guilt: It was necessary that unhealthy dissent was quashed before it could take root and fester like a plague filled pustule. He would not compromise when it came to Redding's safety and security.

“Party starts at about eight,” said Peter. Cameron promised that he and the rest would be present and on their best behavior as they parted to go their separate ways. Cameron retreated to the warehouse that housed whatever additional goods and items they had salvaged but could not use or need in the immediate future.

Since the end, the building's interior layout had been altered, reinforced to keep the undead out with flapped firing slots cut in to the walls every half dozen meters or so. A close inspection of every standing structure in Redding would have revealed the same reinforcements and modifications, each building a miniature stronghold in the event the walls were breached. Cameron rummaged amongst the boxes until he found the ones he was searching for before calling his team together via the radios that never left their persons. They came together in the warehouse, wondering what the emergency was when Cameron pointed to a large box, “Choose something nice.”