By the time breakfast was served for the rest of Redding, they already knew what had transpired during the night, and Redding was over represented at dusk that same evening for Natalie’s late evening funeral. Her simple pine casket was already balanced between the four of them, draped with the American Flag. Peter had asked to help bear the casket, but Cameron who refused him, firm but gently.

Every unnecessary human death was felt acutely by those who were left behind to mourn, but for the five that knew her best, it wasn’t just another friend but family who had fallen and Cameron struggled with the short simple eulogy they had prepared, “Natalie Coltrane.” He took a breath, to give himself a moment, to pause, to collect himself, ““Where we are needed, we are there” was and still is the motto of the Oregon National Guard. She fought where she was needed so that others could see another sunrise. She gave her up that which matters most to make life better for those who remain behind, and for those who continue to fight, every day, building a bright future, a better future against a dying world.” He stepped back, snapping to attention as he gave her casket a crisp military salute. He turned smoothly to his crew, standing at parade rest, “Honor Guard! Present arms!” he barked.

They shouldered their rifles and the thunderous roar of their rifles, shattered the silence with a trio of volleys. They shouldered their rifles before each of them taking a corner of the draped flag. They held it taut as her coffin was lowered in to the ground, and finally, began to fold the flag following military tradition: Lengthwise twice and then diagonally, starting in a stripped corner until the folded flag rested in Cameron's hands. Turning he took two steps forward to address Natalie’s only known next of kin, “Peter Sanchez, as her commanding officer, it is my high privilege to present you this flag. Let it be a symbol of the grateful appreciation that this nation feels for the distinguished service rendered to our country, and our flag, by your loved one.” Peter took the flag with trembling hands and for the first time met Cameron’s eyes, “Because you are the closest to family that she has,” replied Cameron in a whisper to the question in Peter’s eyes.

Any who had lived through Armageddon and its aftermath had seen and experienced more than their fair share of death. But no matter what the world had come to, the need for revenge was overpowering, and it provided the necessary focus and energy to do what has to be done.

Peter knew exactly where to begin when it came to revenge. He stared across the table at the gathered foursome, “You all know exactly what I want. My only question is will you help?”

“We know why you want to do it, but you can’t expect people to risk everything, especially if failure is a possibility,” countered Jaira, “You would have to wipe them out to the last man. Otherwise you’ll have to deal with reprisals.”

“You don’t get it,” snapped Peter, “And I don’t get you. They took family and you hesitate when it comes to exacting justice!” his fist slammed against the table.

Cameron had the measure of the marine standing before him, and it was clear that Peter was trying to justify a personal vendetta. “What you want is a military campaign where no prisoners will be taken; you need to solve three problems: Not enough weapons, not enough people, not enough combat vehicles.”

Nastia had a more important consideration, “They take, and they destroy. And now you want to do to them, what they have done to you. But what you don’t see…”

“There isn’t a philosophical argument that is going to change my mind! Are you going to help me or not?”

Nastia’s response was abusive and in Russian, “You do what they have done and you become exactly like them. People will die, all for revenge, and no matter how many of them you kill, you won’t bring those already dead back!”

“I know this is not going to make sense to you. But she’s right, and when the blood is on your hands,” Cameron hesitated. He knew what he wanted to say, but trying to put it in to words was nigh on impossible, “When you lead, people follow and people will die. Those deaths are forever on your conscience, the blood on your soul and it doesn’t wash away, no matter how much good comes of it.” He hesitated, “You want my help, you need to understand that I will help, but only if you let me lead.”

Jaira head slapped him hard without affection or playfulness, “Are you crazy? This isn’t some salvage mission. What you’re talking about is total war.”

Cameron nodded in agreement, “It is war, and we are already at war. First we’re at war against the undead and then a second front against the Redeemers. We can’t fight both at once and win. And for the moment, the Redeemers are a bigger threat. How long do you want them destroying lives and communities, helping the dead exterminate us? How many more innocent people have to become slaves? How many communities do they have to destroy?”

“That’s just a convenient coincidence!” She jabbed her finger in his chest, and did the same to Peter, “Both of you are chasing revenge. I understand revenge but it’s not a motive that I can condone, nor can I condone you risking the lives of others for your own selfish ends!” she rounded on Cameron, “I know you feel responsible, and guilty.”

“About what?” he cut her off with a snarl, “About Natalie? You would be right! My decisions got us trapped in there, got us a truckload of refugees and got Natalie killed!” he shook his head, “You can call it vengeance,” he turned to Peter, “You could be searching for vengeance. I’m seeking redemption… for more than just Natalie.”

Quiet, thoughtful, and always insightful, Nastia had the answer to the puzzle Cameron had just presented, “Portland.” She said. Cameron nodded, “You still blame yourself.”

“If only it were that easy,” his laugh was humorless, “Peter, you want my help then you let me lead the assault. You are way too involved in this. You can’t lead much of anything.”

Peter nodded. A concession that he knew he had to make but looking round the table, he knew that it would take more than just Cameron’s support to get the rest on board. Robert cut in, “You have got something planned. And it’s not just “ride out there and kill a few.” What are you thinking?”

“Shasta Lake City,” replied Peter, “There’s a nest of Blessed Redeemers. I want it destroyed. That will make making Redding safer, especially since there is more than one group of these lunatics out there.”

Silence hung heavy in the room, “Natalie told me about the weapons cache up at Parks Army Base. Said you have enough to outfit at least a hundred. Vehicles and heavier support weapons too. We’d hit them from afar with snipers and mortar artillery fire before we would go face to face with them.

“Wait a second. What artillery?” asked Nastia.

“We have 60mm mortars and rockets amongst our stockpile in Parks Base,” said Cameron, “If you know about the mortars, then you know about the vehicles sitting there.”

“Well that’s great. Any idea where we can find enough people to fight the same number of crazies in Shasta Lake?” asked Robert even though the answer was obvious.

“Redding’s population is just over three hundred. I can find the magic number of volunteers.”

Jaira hesitated, “You’ve given thought enough to come up with something, I don’t agree with the idea,” she turned to Cameron, “Or the fact that you’ll be leading this. For the two of you, this is personal.” She shook her head, “But I’d be kidding myself if I said it wasn’t personal for me too. The world isn’t perfect. Count me in.”

Nastia looked at her gathered comrades, and hesitated, “We've survived and helped rebuild wherever we can,” Her gaze met Peters, “No hesitation, no second guessing when it comes to a fight. I guess we are in for the fight of our lives.” she nodded firmly; “I'm in.”

Robert just shrugged, “Where you lead, I guess I don't have a choice. Besides if statues are going to be built in anyone’s honor, I want one of me too.”

Cameron nodded, “Now all we need,” Cameron nodded to Peter, “is for you to convince everyone else that this is a good idea, that they should all be a part of it.” Cameron hesitated, “It should be on a voluntary basis, but that’s your problem. All I am responsible for is the battle plan and actually leading in the field.”

In the end, Cameron never found out what exactly Peter had said to gather the necessary number of volunteers, but sure enough, Peter found the volunteers enough for them to field an army, albeit a small one a hundred strong. From Peters own military experience, they were broken up in to individual units ten men strong – a platoon – that could be broken in individual squads of five. All of them were capable of precision fire and their real training was more about urban warfare and the brutal type of close quarter melee that they would face against opponents who would shoot back.

Cameron had taken the Fortress north to Parks Army Base and the trip was a little crowded with a total of twelve men and women aboard, most of them mechanics. It took them the better part of three weeks to repair and fuel the vehicles as well as load up on the needed weapons and ammunition to outfit the small army in training. Their return was on schedule, the Fortress at the lead of convoy of six heavy vehicles loaded with weapons and ammunition aplenty for all.

It took two months, for everything to fall in to place. Everything included field reconnaissance and intelligence gathering that helped fine tune the details of their assault strategy and now, the night before their departure Cameron ran through their plan one final time to the gathered Platoon leaders who would in turn brief their individual units., “If there are no other questions,” he glanced at his watch, “Make a final check of your vehicles and equipment, and be ready to leave at 09:00 tomorrow.”

Later that night, Cameron found that he had nothing to say as he held Jaira in his arms, and together they stared out the window, shrouded by the darkness of night. There was no telling how long they stayed like that, enjoying the simplicity of being together when she asked, “Tell me, honestly, do we have the right to make war on others?”

He stared out over Redding, its walls and the wilds beyond the walls, “There is no right and wrong in this Jaira,” he kissed the top of her head as he marshaled his thoughts, “What we’re going to do, is something that has to be done. We don’t do it now; we may do this in a month or a year. But you know what scares me the most?” She shrugged and looked up at him, catching his eyes, shaking her head. “What scares me is that if we don’t do this now, we may not have the numbers or the weapons to do it in the future.”

She looked up at him, “How can you just sit there are say that war is inevitable? Is it because we’re human that we have to destroy everything we touch like a virus or a plague?”

“Don’t we already do that?” he countered, “The Blessed Redeemers have forgotten, what civilized human beings are. If we don’t destroy them, they will destroy us.” Words from a long deceased friend came to mind suddenly, “Ci vis pacem, para bellum.”

The following morning was perfect for history to be made. Just before nine and the sun was already casting its brilliant rays over the gathered crowd, mingling alongside their vehicles. Cameron watched them from the roof of the Fortress, Peter standing to his left with the rest of his crew close by. He simply watched as people said goodbye to each other. Some to husbands and wives, but all of them seemed to stop to say farewell to the children, for the future of Redding and humanity as a whole that they were setting out to fight for.

Cameron raised the bullhorn and suddenly found himself uncertain what to say, his carefully prepared speech derailed at the last possible moment. He floundered for and instant and then dove right in, “Good morning,” his voice sounded freakishly loud to him, as he paused for a moment, getting used to the bullhorn’s echo, letting the gathered crowd turn to him, "Si vis pacem, para bellum.”

Latin grabbed everyone’s attention, “We occupy a strange place in human history: We survived Armageddon, and now rebuild for our future. The darkest hours have come and gone and in the light after it, human civilization struggles to rise from the ashes. But we have failed. Where we needed civilization the most, it has crumbled the quickest.”

A wave of mumbling swept through the crowd, and it was a clear indicator of the crowd’s mood. He had their attention, he had them slightly angry, “If somebody should one day ask you, why you went to war, you have your answer: Si vis pacem, para bellum. The Blessed Redeemers,” he poured all the hate and anger he could in to those three words, “do not share our dream of peace, which would let us rebuild. They only want war! So I say this: they want war, we give them a war!”

A voice from beyond the ranks of gathered militiamen roared in opposition, “You will fight, and you will die! There are too many of them for us to make a difference!”

Thrown off balance for a moment, he pondered the words and hurled them right back, “We will fight and we may die.” His hand lanced out like a knife, pointing towards the crowd where the voice had originated, “But you have already let our enemy win. The Blessed Redeemers win when we all do one thing,” he paused for effect. He had the crowd’s attention and he had them listening, now he had to trap then with logic and common sense, “Nothing. Nothing! Evil triumphs the moment good men and women refuse to oppose it.”

“Those of us who march forward, to fight understand why we fight. We understand why: We can never have peace until these fanatics have taken everything that they can take from us!”” There was a scattering of agreement from the gathered and he pressed his point home, “To have peace, one must be prepared for war. We go to war to preserve peace. Ci vis pacem, para bellum means “If you want peace, prepare for war.” Our preparations are made. Now, I give the order! And the order is to march!” he took a breath, “To war!” he shouted.

The silence after he spoke lasted a moment, then shattered by the applause of a single pair of hands from somewhere in the depths of the gathering. The applause was joined, scattered at first, like the first drops of rain until suddenly, there was a thunderous applause that echoed to the heavens, the roaring voices of support the thunder of a coming storm.

One hundred soldiers and a twelve vehicle convoy with the Fortress in the lead pushed through the open gates. Redding Peacemakers, First Company made their way North to Shasta Lake City, to bring war to the enemy.