But the friendly communities they had encountered showed signs of warfare, and confirmation that it was the Blessed Redeemers. What each and every community cited was a need for heavier firepower to drive back these raids. The problem was where to actually acquire the kind of firepower necessary, “The fact is that we don't have enough weapons to outfit every community. Realistically, we can supply one, rebuild up our stockpiles and then go to the next community,” said Cameron.

“Yeah, and the guns these Blessed Redeemer people are a match to what we have,” replied Natalie, “But we also have a hell of a lot more armor and can bring a hell of a lot more firepower.”

“What we need is another military base, another huge cache of weapons like Parks Army Base,” said Robert, “It might actually be easier to return to Redding, empty out everything we don't need, and then make a hard push north to recover everything we left behind.”

“Especially since every gun store we've visited lately has been picked clean,” agreed Jaira as she flipped through their inventory sheets, “We've got forty assault rifles with three clips for each, in packed crates, a mixed bag of shotguns, and mostly single action revolvers that we can trade,” she said.

“Fine,” said Cameron, “We'll have to also look in to the possibility of making a full out assault against these raiders, especially in Shasta Lake. If we can knock them out of there, maybe we can get the damn working again,” Cameron said, “But before that, which way do we go from here?” The Fortress was currently parked on the outskirts of Lassen Volcanic National Park, and they were debating whether to turn back the way they had come, or to follow the road south.

“Head south,” suggested Nastia, “and I think we should be trading with whichever community can give us the very best “deal” for whatever they want that we have.”

Robert disagreed, “No. We have extensive supplies with us, and piles of stuff in Redding, and in our army base up North. I think that we should just trade whatever we can and if we have it, and can afford it; we give away whatever they need.”

“We've risked our lives for every single thing in our inventory!” shot back Nastia, “I don’t think give it away does us any favors.”

“We can go about this one of two ways: We could be mercenaries for the rest of lives, but that's not the only road we have,” countered Robert, “Each community that we can strengthen with supplies,” he paused to marshal his arguments, “Consider that within our lifetimes, there could be reestablished communications and trade between different outposts – if enough of them are close enough and more importantly, survive. It’s the first step to rebuilding, more than communities, but the country. We’re the ones who stand at the crossroads between choosing to survive day by day or to start rebuilding the country,” he paused, “Who knows, we could get statues built in our honor in a decade or two.”

That idea got a few smiles and but even though Cameron had made it a vote, “We'll trade on fairly even terms with all of the communities, but if they have a particularly dire need for something and we have it a sufficient stockpile, we will spare some. Besides, having more communities that welcome us means more places for us to rest and repair off the road. Besides,” he laughed, “I would like to see that statue made.”

They paused briefly for lunch before turning south, cutting through Lassen National Park along around that would lead to the town of Red Bluff, then turn North and head back to Redding and then to their weapon stockpile farther North. Lasson National Park a place of beauty and natural wonder was ignored by the crew of the Fortress as they turned and followed the road and their maps, finally coming upon the city of Red Bluff, former population 30,000.

The roads were clogged with the ruins of both vehicles and from the looks of it the remains of hastily erected barricades that were surrounded by skeletons, brittle and yellow, some upon the road, but with many more draped over the barricades. Their progress was slow to nonexistent as Robert edged the Fortress up against their fourth line of wreckage in the past hour and slowly applied power to it. A half minute later and the wreck had been bulldozed on to the pavement. The barricades across the many streets told the story that was no doubt in many ways similar to that of Sparta: The undead had come, they had been killed, but using sheer numbers, they had overrun the barricades and the walls, slaughtering every human encountered. When Robert was able to barrel through most of the barricades using only speed, it was clear that whatever pockets of humanity had tried to setup home never had a chance. They pushed through the city until they rejoined the number 5 highway, turning north.

They were approaching the small town of Cottonwood, about sixteen miles south of Redding, when the first echoes of a full blown fire fight borne on the wind. Several long strings of firecracker like explosions ripped through the silence intermingled with the snap crack of hand guns and the dull throaty booms of shotguns. There were moments in Cameron's life where he had not considered the potential consequences of his actions. Robert pulled them off the highway, barreling through a thin stand of trees and across some long abandoned field until what was clearly as school came in to view, its buildings and walls on their left while the invading army of dead continued their advance across an open field towards the aforementioned walls.

“Positions!” ordered Cameron. Seventy or eighty zombies were simply no match for the destructive firepower that the Fortress could bring to bear, eradicating the dead with waves of machine guns fire and grenades. The small battle in a very long war over within minutes, and the Fortress sat inert, keeping a watch for the odd zombie that could have survived and also on the community as within, they made their usual preparations for contact. The survivors had made no attempts to communicate with them, but it was clear that the community had all off its guns pointed in their direction from the top of the wall, “How many times have we been in this particular predicament?” muttered Robert.

“I've got movement!” hissed Jaira as a drawbridge slammed down, revealing the only way in and out over the dry moat they had built. An armed party of six men advanced on to the field, five men surrounding a sixth who bore a white flag on one shoulder, and another black flag,

“Let's go say hello,” said Cameron, “If they want to talk, the least we can do is be polite and civil.”

On the ground, Cameron and Nastia stood, weapons drawn but lowered waiting for the party to close distance. Beneath his vest and t-shirt, Cameron wore the heaviest bullet proof vest they had, matched by Nastia, shotgun resting in her hands. When they were ten feet from one another, it was clear that both groups were eyeballing each other, until Nastia broke the silence, “hello!”

Their flag bearer stepped past the destroyed hulk of some vehicle, “I would ask who you are and what your business is in Cottonwood, so close to our Chapel-Barracks.”

“Travelers and traders looking for likeminded communities,” said Nastia, wondering silently what “Chapel-Barracks” are.

“For traders, you come as well armed,” was the reply from the man clearly disinclined to speak to Nastia, directing his comments towards Cameron.

“Considering the dead would have eventually breached your walls, slaughtered all of you, men, women and children and then “recruited” all of you in to their army, you should be thanking us,” snapped Nastia.

Several trigger fingers had tightened up at her words, and more than a few of the hunting rifles previously pointed at the ground rose. Cameron stepped in front of Nastia, partly to shield her, partly to placate their potential hosts, “There has been more than enough killing for one day.”

“She,” the word was spoken with an undertone of venom, “said you were traders, what do you have to trade?”

“Food, a few weapons, some medicines, and perhaps we could even search for certain items that you specifically require: Electronic components and the like,” he hesitated, “and if you're not interested, then we'll leave.”

From the direction of the wall behind them, another group approached, reinforcing the first group in the field, as the flag bearer considered the offer, “Let's see what you have to offer, but it would also depend upon what you want in return,”

The community’s reinforcements arrived and Nastia frowned, all men, twenty dressed all in black. It was... strange. From her vantage point at one Fortress’s guns, Jaira tried to get a better look at the flying banner to no avail. Men of the community walked through the battlefield putting a bullet in to every intact skull that they came across when a shout came from a sentry.

“The minions of darkness approach!” caused everyone to pick up the pace as the earpieces crackled in to both their ears. The pair retreated towards the Fortress, as the flag bearer called to them, “Our leader has extended an invitation, to share our sanctuary. Be quick and take advantage or we shall leave you to your fate at the hands of these beasts!”

Clambering aboard, Cameron made the snap decision, and Robert moved them in to the compound. The moat was impressive n both depth and width and Robert noted that there was no way they could cross such a gap. The drawbridge rose on its chains as they surveyed their surroundings. Inside the compound, the main buildings of the school were visible, and as Cameron cast his gaze about the first word that came to his mind was: Dirty. There were no women or children in sight. Jaira voiced the same consideration, and Robert admitted that something just didn't feel right about the whole community. It was Natalie who pointed out the problem, hanging from what was once the school's flag pole: The base coat was a midnight black but in the center of the black fabric, was a large stylized print of hand in white, with a red star in the center of its palm.

“Shit,” muttered Robert as his eyes reached the flagpole.

“Shit,” muttered Cameron, cursing his snap decision that had put them in this position.

“Shit,” was all Jaira could say in agreement.

Somebody banged on the flank of the Fortress, causing them all to jump in fear, “I am the Chaplain, the face of purity and faith, assistant to the Cardinal of Cottonwood Chapter of the Brotherhood of the Blessed Redeemers; I understand that you have goods for trade?”

With little choice, Cameron pulled the door back, helping the man clamber aboard. In an attempt to divert his attention, Cameron asked about the undead that had been clamoring at their walls, “The dead came from the South, and we have engaged them in a running battle over the past week, thinning down their numbers until today they number less than one hundred as we had planned, and as was ordained by heaven, they have been purged from this world, their tormented souls put to rest. We thank you for your assistance in our most holy endeavor.”

“Your brothers?” asked a wary Jaira.

For a moment, a flash of anger crossed his face before it returned to its normal, tranquil appearance, “You would do well to teach your woman that she has no place amongst a conversation involving men,” it was a mild rebuke that got Cameron's hackles up, but the Chaplain continued, having pointedly ignored Jaira's question, “The place of a woman amongst the brothers is a place of silence. Here in Cottonwood, we number eighty brothers and perhaps a dozen or so women amongst our number.”

Jaira opened her mouth to protest but was silenced as Cameron stepped on her foot. Still fuming she glared at him as he shook his head, before addressing their guest, “Perhaps we should reconvene in an hour or two, and so that we may prepare an adequate selection of what goods we have available for trade?”

“Of course,” he smiled, “But we can conduct the business of men tomorrow. For tonight, we shall feast and celebrate your coming and your union with our devout and holy brotherhood.”

“Perhaps, Chaplain, it would be best if we were to first resolve the matter of the enemy beyond your gates?” suggested Cameron, hoping for a quick exit “Opening your gate will let us bring to bear our weapons.”

“The enemies of the righteous, shall be given their judgment in due time. For now, your immediate concerns are to rest, and relax, to enjoy dinner and a comfortable night's rest,” while soft spoken, there was a core of steel to the chaplain's words, “Farewell, until later this evening,” he said as he dismounted and retreated towards the building, a cordon of men forming a protective guard around him.

“Shit,” said Natalie, “Any ideas how to get out of here?”