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Dead Men Walking
Topic Started: Nov 28 2014, 02:20 AM (71,052 Views)
DoctorYerishi
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Dude, wake up! We've got a world to save.
Eli nodded back to Randall, so he knew he understood. He raised his hands away from his knife, then started walking. He moved to the bed suddenly, though, and towered over the sleeping form. He locked his eyes on the sleeping man's temple, clenched his fist, and twisted his hips. Then he tapped the man on the shoulder. He opened his eyes, confused and disoriented. That’s when Eli’s punch came down between the man’s hairline and his eyebrows, and the man blacked out immediately.

“He’s fine,” Eli quickly assured the others. “Just couldn’t risk him being a light sleeper.”

At that point, Eli noted the man’s hoodie. It was pure black and maybe a size bigger than Eli. Impulsively, Eli grabbed it by the bottom and dragged it over the man’s neck and arms. It was exactly the kind of black attire he wanted, and it could come in handy yet.

“Watch the doors,” he said when he turned around. He nodded to the door they came in, and the other one on the other side of the room. Then he headed for the window of the room. The blinds were closed, and he only opened them enough to peek out of.

Outside, he could see people approaching the buildings from the pathway leading into the back. A lot of people. More than the voices led him to believe. There were the hard-looking men and women from the bridge carrying boxes of stolen supplies, but they were also flanked by many others. Less hard looking people. Many of them were women. Some of them were children younger than Kelsey. At least two of them looked to be pushing 70 years old. Eli was taken aback.

The people Eli didn’t recognize from the border were largely trailing the men with the boxes. Eli could make out bits and pieces of their questions from where he stood, but he needed a clearer picture. With a grunt, he pulled the window to the Officers’ Quarters up just a bit, letting the sound in.

“How could this happen?” cried the woman of the elderly couple. She sounded distressed. “Rob, Calvin, Randy, Nate, and how many more? In just one night!?”

“We don’t know about Randy and Nate! For now, they’re just missing. We’re still looking for them, and we haven’t given up hope.”

It was the man in the lead who answered, and Eli’s face curled into a scowl at the sound of his voice. He was the one that was issuing the orders back at the checkpoint. He’s the one that demanded they hand over their weapons, immediately after killing Mac senselessly. Now, he was carrying a box of canned goods that Mac helped fight for back in Patterson. The sight made Eli angry and sick at the same time.

“What about the others?” asked another woman, this one matronly looking. She had a small child in her arms, and the child with a blank look on his face. “You haven’t answered our questions!”

The leader of the group – a middle-aged man not unlike Randall, with a receding hairline and a short frame – stopped in his place. He put the box down, then looked at one of the other box-carriers with annoyance. The target of that scorn was shorter than even him, and had bright blue eyes Eli could make out even from a distance. He couldn’t have been older than 15. He looked sad and guilty.

The leader then turned to address the following he had gathered. “I know this is heartbreaking – it is for me too,” he announced. “Rob, Calvin and the others were good men. They died tragically, in the name of keeping us safe. Their deaths will not be in vain and they will not go un-avenged.”

The crowd was silent for a moment, which seemed to satisfy the leader.

“I promise we’ll talk more about this soon,” he said. “We’ll have a meeting tomorrow morning, and then we’ll put our fallen heroes to rest. But the day isn’t over yet, and we still have work to do.”

The crowd’s response was mixed, but one of the other fighters from the bridge put down his box and got in between them.

“We need to get back to work!” he yelled, more forcefully than their leader. “And so do you! You heard him, we’ll get into it soon! Let’s go! Come on!”

While he herded the crowd, a man appeared from the other side of the gate and approached the leader. “Sir,” he said, and Eli recognised his voice from a minute ago. He was Kevin.

“I told you not to call – look, just go get George,” the leader said, sounding wary. “Bring him to the barracks. He’ll want to hear this before anyone else.”

Kevin nodded his assent, then took off. Eli frowned. He bet he could guess who George was. He had to keep listening, though, as the leader turned to the kid he seemed silently annoyed at earlier.

“We need to talk,” the leader said as he picked up his box. The boy nodded solemnly, and followed him through the gate and out of sight.

Some of the other fighters were continuing to deal with the crowd. Eli had to stop studying them when there was a knock on the door.

“George!” Kevin’s voice rang out. “George, Paul’s calling for you! It's an emergency!”
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Of course, George would be the one guy in this entire facility in the same room as us! Randall found himself having internal monologues more and more often these days.

Despite his frustration, his expression was calm. Randall always feared making the wrong decision in a tense situation. But in times like this, with only one option available to him, he felt oddly calm. Maybe that is why people looked up to him; he feared the decision, but once he made it, he followed through on it no matter what.

He drew his M9 and strode towards the door. He knew what he was about to do was both stupid and dangerous, but it was reasonable to assume Kevin was the only one at the door. And if he was, then this would work. He made sure the safety was on, then flipped the gun so he held the barrel of it in his hand like a makeshift club. He then opened the door wide.

Randall read the confusion on Kevin's face clearly. He didn't know who Randall was or what he was doing in this room. Had he wanted, Randall figured he could have even talked his way out of the situation with a few lies. But he decided that plan gave Kevin too much time to think. Too much time to react. Too much time to call for help if he got suspicious. No, this plan was much better. The butt of the gun slammed into the side of Kevin's head, dazing him, but not knocking him out. Randall caught him as he fell; he tried to call for help, but it came out as more of a moan than anything else. He dragged the young man inside at the same time Willow slid in and closed the door behind them both. Then quickly copied Eli's move on him with his free hand; smacking the lad in the temple with a clenched fist. That strike did the job and Randall felt him fall completely limp. He took the kid over to the same bed as George and laid him down on it beside him.

"Why can't things ever go smoothly?" Willow complained quietly.

"They're going to come looking for him soon." Randall told Eli. "What's our next move?"
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Julie was starting sweat. Mounting anxiety drowned out her senses, like a roaring flood inside her head. What happened at the bridge they hadn't anticipated. That fight was one them beforr they knew it. This was far different. They'd be there soon but this time she had ample warning. The place was being watched, they couldn't get to the truck. They were trapped with two wounded, a child, a stranger and a Jeff. Glenda was the only one fit to fight.

"I can fight." Brandon's voice cut through the noise.

He stood leaning against the door frame, zipping his jacket up. He looked like hammered shit but his face was set with a determined look. It didn't make her bold, but looking at him like that almost shamed her.

"I've still got one good arm." she said, trying hard to swallow her apprehension.
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DoctorYerishi
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Eli watched Randall's takedown with a kind of amusement. When it was over, he was kind of impressed. Eli wasn't a violent guy in general, but he did have some moderate practice with this kind of thing. Randall and Willow were adapting impressively to these circumstances. He'd wonder if he'd do as well, if he went into it as blind as they did.

"Our next move is we find out where they're taking our stuff," he said, then peaked again out the window.

He observed the crowd continuing to break up. Many of them went back in the direction they came. There must have been camps or beds set up along that side of the fort. Enough went through the gate, however, to renew Eli's worry. It would be incredibly troublesome to dodge all of them completely.

"Willow, search the dresser," he said, turning around, speaking the words as fast as the idea emerged. "And Randall, take that guy's shirt, like I did. The new goal is to blend in. If they don't get a good look at our faces, they may not think twice."
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Eli was right; this dresser was stuffed with clothing. Probably more clothes than this thing was designed for. While Randall removed Kevin's hoodie and slipped into it, Willow shuffled through the dressers, searching for something that she could use as a disguise. She found a couple of Playboy magazines dug deep into some of the drawers, but after a minute or two her search revealed no coats or hoodies. They were probably too bulky to store in a dresser with so little space left in it. Eli and Randall probably wanted to move out soon, so she needed a new plan.

A quick glance around the room revealed something Willow had missed earlier; a hat rack tucked away in the corner. There were quite a few different varieties of hats; flat caps, fedoras, baseball caps, even a trilby and fez! There were even a few scarves, broaches, and other accessories hanging alongside them. Willow was impressed and got the idea someone had been building a collection of these things up. Or maybe it was communal thing; she didn't really know and frankly, it didn't really matter. All she did know was that it was what she needed to cover her head. She instinctively reached for the black fedora with the widest brim and placed it on her head. A near perfect fit! She tied up the disguise with a black scarf with a little pink trim, which she wrapped around her neck to help cover her distinctive pink hair. It wasn't perfect, but now she could hide her face and hair. With this many people though, she could probably slip by unnoticed. She did see a few other people wearing hats down there, so it was hardly something unusual. And, as she thought about it more, it looked less unusual than having three people with drawn up hoodies walking around the place.

"Okay." Willow announced. "I think I'm ready."

**********

"I can fight too!" Maxwell nervously proclaimed. "I-I'm not very good at it, but those barbarians have taken enough from me already."

"And what are we up against?" Glenda glanced at Julie.

Glenda nodded her head grimly as she listened to Julie explain their situation. A jeep had found them, dropped off two armed men, and then departed to presumably get reinforcements. With only herself capable of really fighting, it seemed like a hopeless situation. They would come in force, Glenda knew this. After the incident at the bridge, no chances would be taken and no expense would be spared. If everyone were here, Glenda would suggest finding a way to retreat. They couldn't leave the truck with their supplies in the back.

Find and kill the scouts; get in the truck; retreat.

The plan seemed simple in her mind, but retreat was not an option. But then a light bulb went off in her head. Maybe it was. They didn't need to actually retreat, just move the truck somewhere more discreet. If those fools came back, found their scouts dead and the truck gone, who wouldn't think that they just up and left? It was risky, if they decided to check out the hospital anyway, there would be little that they could do. But something told her that they wouldn't. Too time consuming and too late at night by then to risk it.

"That could work." Glenda nodded in approval after a short moment of introspection. "Okay, the plan here is deception. They left two guards out front to make sure that we don't move. They think we don't know about them yet, and we can use that to our advantage. We have a lot of windows and a little time before they organize enough force to come get us. If we can find where they are hiding, we should be able to kill them. That should give us some time to move the truck somewhere more low-key. When the reinforcements come, find their men dead and the truck gone, they will assume we are already gone."

"And what if they decide to look inside the hospital anyway!?" Maxwell asked, readjusting his glasses slightly. "There is no way that we could defend against that! Why don't we just leave; the cure is probably a load of crock anyway and you know it! This is suicide and-"

The glare that Glenda shot Maxwell stopped him dead in his tracks. He awkwardly cleared his throat; "We should stay right here and defend regardless of that truth!"

"To cover all of our bases, we should move a little deeper into the hospital at the same time." Glenda conceded. "It is dangerous, but if they do decide to storm in here, we have a lot of long hallways that would serve as ideal ambush locations that give them nowhere to hide. So... are there any other complaints?"

"And I mean real ones." She added, giving another harsh stare in Maxwell's direction.

She already did not like this man.
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DoctorYerishi
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Eli looked over to Willow, and was again impressed. For him, the fedora-scarf was a little ostentatious as a fashion statement, but it should do the trick here. If she was only ever seen in profile, nobody would bat an eyelash.

“Nice work,” he said, voicing his approval. “Let’s go.”

He peeked out the doorway again, and when he didn’t see anyone in the next area, he led the way. It was a hallway, with a line of windows facing towards the grounds. By instinct, he found a short set of stairs and took those.

They ended up in the officer’s kitchen on the lower floor, and Eli identified a door he guessed led outside. He was about to go scout it out when he saw the doorknob rattle. He turned around suddenly, grabbing Randall by the shoulder and forcing him down with one hand. With the other, he motioned for Willow to do the same.

They took cover behind a table just before the door swung open and two people walked in. When one of them started talking, Eli recognised the voice as belonging to the leader he saw outside. The same one who issued the demands back at the bridge. Paul, apparently.

“Fuck this day,” he sounded exasperated. “First those other guys try to hit us, then this. What were you thinking!?”

“I told you–” responded the other voice, before being cut off. He sounded young.

“That’s not good enough,” Paul interrupted. “Five dead! Two missing! Three injured – and I don’t think Josh is gonna make it, so make that six dead. And now I’ve got a dozen men screaming for bloody vengeance. That could not have gone worse.”

“I’m sorry,” the younger kid responded, sounding sincere and regretful. Eli would have liked to have seen his face, but he stuck to where he was.

There was a pause. Eli could hear Paul sigh.

“It should never have gone down that way, Evan,” Paul said. “You never pull the trigger without my say so, unless it’s to save your life. This whole thing falls apart otherwise.”

Evan?! An alarm started ringing in Eli’s head. That was the name Nate had given him during his short interrogation. Evan was the son of a bitch who murdered Mac unprovoked.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Evan said – which isn’t good enough, Eli thought, not even close. “I got scared. There was that group that attacked us this morning, and then this guy had a big gun, and-and-and-and I panicked. I’m – I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Paul sighed again. “You’re never going to the border again, you understand that, right?”

“I know,” Evan repeated. “And whatever punishment you want to give me, I’ll accept. But please-please-please don’t kick me or my brother out. Please. I’ll do anything.”

“I’m not making any decisions now,” Paul said. “Just… bring that box to the quartermaster’s room. We’ll sort through it after the meeting.”

“Yes, sir,” Evan said, and Eli could hear him walk away through the door he came.

Shortly after, Paul left too. The room was once again empty except for intruders.

A lot of thoughts were running through Eli’s head, but several more frequently than others. What he wanted to do with Evan was one of them. The location of their supplies was another. And then there was what Paul and Evan had said about another group hitting them and putting them on edge. When it came to that last thought, Eli put two and two together.

“You know they were talking about Maxwell’s group, right?” he said softly, his voice bitter.
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So that was the kid that shot Mac! Deep down, Randall could not deny his fury towards him. But at the same time... he was still a kid. He was conflicted; had he found himself alone in a room with the kid, would he be able to pull the trigger? Would he avenge Mac or would he show mercy? Before the rotter pandemic, he would have been angry, but let the courts decide. But here there was no law, there was no right or wrong apart from what each individual person decided. So would killing the kid me right or wrong? Randall couldn't answer that question.

When they were gone, he answered Eli's comment.

"Are you sure? I got the idea Maxwell's group was gunned down a while ago. He didn't seem too torn up about losing everyone." Randall softly responded, but eventually added. "But he could be hiding something from us."

We can worry about that after we get out of here. Randall mentally chastised himself. If we get out of here.

"So, are we going after that box?" Willow finally inquired.
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"Do you think... could we somehow take them alive? I don't regret killing those people at the border, that was self-defense. These guys... I know why they're watching, there's an attack coming, but all they've done is watch. When their friends come back, missing people are just as telling as dead people, and if they decide to push the hospital we'd have hostages. If you don't think it's worth the risk though, then I can kill them." Brandon put his idea forward.

Having found his reserve of willpower he no longer leaned on the door frame but stood upright. He'd do whatever he had to to keep everyone safe. If they made the mistake of testing his group again then they were going to pay for it.

"We've got the winchester, I think if we had a good shot in one of the windows upstairs we could give them a warning shot, order them to throw out their weapons and then two us march them in here at gunpoint." Julie expanded.
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"Believe it or not, those brutes can be reasoned with." Maxwell came to the support of Brandon and Julie. "There are certain advantages to having hostages that would be lost by killing them. If we keep them alive, we have bargaining power."

"Killing them is easier and safer."

Glenda would have rather just killed them for the reasons she stated. But it was fairly obvious Brandon and Julie would rather not kill the scouts. She never doubted that they wouldn't do it she asked, but she couldn't do this alone and she wasn't going to ask anyone to kill if they did not want to.

"However... if you think we should take them hostage, I won't ask otherwise." Glenda added. "But we can't let our guard down with them; we need all of you to be alert. It isn't just us putting ourselves at risk here."

She glanced at Kelsey, sitting in the corner, head lulled to the side and fast asleep.

"No mistakes."
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Eli was pretty sure, but didn’t press the issue with Randall right now. There had been something off about Maxwell, he was definitely overcompensating for something. Now they knew what. Maybe he hadn’t personally attacked anyone – Eli had known for the man for under an hour, but it seemed unlikely that he had that in him – but his former group certainly weren’t the saints he made them out to be.

And maybe if these Old Fort Erie people hadn’t been agitated earlier in the day -- maybe then this whole situation would have gone down differently.

Eli shook himself out of it. He was deflecting blame, and it wouldn’t do him any good. Even if Maxwell’s group had put these guys on edge, they still killed Mac and injured the rest of them of their own volition. They were still responsible for their actions. That Evan kid – he was still responsible for killing their friend.

“Yeah, we are,” Eli said, and he got up.

He moved to the door, opened it a crack, and saw a crowd of the fighters from before heading towards the barracks, where they were going to have that meeting Eli overheard them talk about. The kid, Evan, emerged from a doorway in the other main building, no longer holding a box. He followed the crowd.

“Now,” Eli said, and he exited the building. “Walk, don’t run.”

He threw his hood on and shoved his hands in his pocket. He kept to the shadow of the gate as he walked across. He was exposed now in a way he was deeply uncomfortable with, visible from so many angles and windows. And if one of the people heading to the meeting looked behind them for too long, they might catch too good a glimpse.

They didn’t, though. A few glanced back at some of the other fighters, hurrying them along, but none seemed to notice Eli or the others. Their eyes just skimmed over them. In the dark, their minds must have assumed they were other residents of the fort. Maybe George and Kevin, even, since at least Eli and Randall were wearing their clothes.

Ahead, Evan entered the barracks last, further down in the second building. He entered it at about the same time Eli arrived at the door he had seen him come from – the Quartermaster’s Room, he supposed.

He found it blissfully empty of people, and held the door for Randall and Willow before closing it. It was a big room, with a row of modern shelves stacked against a decidedly un-modern stone wall with burn marks. Perhaps it had been damaged in a fire during whatever war was fought here, and it had never been repaired for historical authenticity reasons.

On the various shelves were various goods. Clothing, bottled water, canned food, other necessities. These people were well stocked – they would have had to be, to support all those people that Eli saw in the courtyard. He wondered how much of it they gathered themselves and how much they had robbed.

One shelf on the wall was dedicated to weaponry, and it had an impressive selection. A shelf below it also had an impressive selection of ammunition.

There were also boxes, meanwhile, sitting by the feet of the shelves. They had the SUV’s stuff, but they weren’t the same boxes they had originally packed. The border crew must have repacked these goods after recovering them from the crash.

Mierda, there’s a lot to go through,” Eli said, looking it over. “Randall, lets you and I try and find the cure. Willow, you keep watch by the door. Let us know if someone’s coming.”
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In another time, Randall might have admired the stone masonry and construction of the Quartermaster's Chambers. There was an old Colonial era charm to it that he would have enjoyed seeing. It would have made a good trip for his family. In another time. Now it just felt like a tomb, threatening to envelop them all if they didn't escape from its darkened maw in time.

As Willow took up her post by the door, Randall hesitantly opened the box nearest him. He didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid. Afraid that even if they got all the way here, deep in the belly of the beast, and found their stolen supplies, that the cure wouldn't be among them. Then they would be back at square one in their search.

Inside the first box; food. Food from the rec center that they had looted.

It sickened Randall. All the work they had put into this food, only to have it stolen by some thugs with guns. There was no way they could get it all out of here, even if their mission was a success and they escaped, the food would still be theirs. If only there was more time, Randall would burn this room to the ground again and deny them their supplies. He would rather seem them all burn than to go help this community.

"Nothing in this one." Randall closed the box and moved onto the next one.
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“Keep looking,” Eli said, even though he was certain he didn’t have to. It made him feel better to say something, though.

He finished rummaging through one of the boxes himself, with no luck finding the canister. He meant to move on to the next box, but a crate on the weapons shelf caught his eye. He stood over to inspect it, flipping back the wooden cover. He find a pile of oblong, bumpy green shapes.

Grenades, he realized with surprise. Where the hell did these guys get their hands on these?

They were MK II grenades, and looked like they could have come straight out of World War II. They didn’t fit the Revolutionary War aesthetic of the rest of the fort, so Eli couldn’t imagine they were already sitting there. This group must have found them on one of their runs, or taken them off one of those groups they turned away from the border.

Eli didn’t have time to consider it further. He just grabbed one, then another, then one more after that and shoved them into his new hoodie. He didn’t have experience with these kind of devices, but the movies made it look simple enough. He just hoped they wouldn’t go off in his pocket by accident.

He moved back to the boxes on the ground, started rifling through a new one. Eli was starting to consider the prospect that they hadn’t even recovered the cure from the glove compartment. That they had taken everything else but left that behind, and Eli had led Randall and Willow into danger for nothing. Then his fingers found a familiar texture.

“I think I found it,” he said, cautiously optimistic. He kept the one hand where it was, and with the other he brushed aside the cans of food that covered it up. When he got a good grip, he pulled it out of the box. He smiled disbelievingly.

There it was – that long black canister he had first seen back in that wine shop, in the moments after ending his first real human life. It was unopened. Without the accompanying map and description, it was just a canister, after all. These fort assholes had no idea what they had. And now they never would.

“I found it!” he said, this time with certainty. He held it up for Willow and Randall to see.
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"No mistakes." Brandon concurred following Glenda's gaze.

He shared Glenda's concerns exactly. It would be easier and safer to kill them outright, but only inthe short term. If it came to a fight even having set up an ambush, their buddies would be too many. They'd die. With hostages they could possibly bargain their way out, and avoid a fight entirely. Brandon rationalized that these people, even if they were murderers, at least cared for their own. The way they kept coming at them back at the border made that clear.

Glenda was the only one aside from Brandon with competence with firearms and also able to climb the stairs without difficulty. She'd take up position a little ways back from one of the windows to avoid being spotted. Brandon was also glad to have her there because she would not hesitate to shoot if their friends outside cooperate.

Julie and Brandon would make contact with them and then Glenda would give them a demonstration of how dead they would be if they didn't comply. Max and Jeff would grab their weapons and search them once they surrendered. Once that was done they'd herd them inside, tie them up with power cords and then Julie and Max would watch them like hawks while Jeff keot a lookout for their friends, or their friends. Brandon and Glenda would take the truck somewhere less conspicuous and each make sure the other got back safe.

This plan would work. Hopefully.

Glenda was in place. The two of them weren't far apart, the one who went around the back had rejoined his friend. He must have figured they wouldn't leave without their truck and supplies so there was no point splitting up to cover the back. Good guess but a very stupid move.

Julie and Brandon formed up on the front door, using the reception desk to move to either side of it without being seen. Jeff and Max were behind them.

"Gentlemen! We know you're out there. Please direct your attention to the stop sign just behind you." Julie instructed in a clear loud voice, giving Glenda her cue to demonstrate her skill.
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"Thank God!" Randall proclaimed when his eyes confirmed that Eli was indeed holding the canister. The 'cure'.

Despite the tedious situation they found themselves in, it was really hard not to crack a joyous smile over the whole thing. In one stroke of luck, his fears had been alleviated; they were more than halfway home already. All they had to do now was get out in one piece. He knew they were still deep in the woods, but now he could see the light at the end of the tunnel.

His thoughts were interrupted by Willow kneeling down beside the two of them.

"Hide."

With that word, he saw the young woman head back to the door and press her back against the wall so that she would be hidden by the door were it to open. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what was happening.

Someone was coming.

He motioned for Eli to follow him behind the old desk that stood vigil in the corner of the room, it's surface decorated with various types of ammunition and at least one disassembled rifle that someone had been working on. There wasn't much room, but there was enough for the two of them to remain hidden. After what felt like long, creeping minutes, but was realistically probably only twenty seconds or so, he heard the door to the room open.

"Damn these things are heavy..." The voice of a young man echoed through the room. "They always give me the heavy ass boxes."

Apparently this man wasn't as the meeting. Or he was late. It didn't really matter which. All that mattered was that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Beneath the desk, Randall could see a pair of Nike shoes walking across the ground towards the boxes they had been sifting through only moments ago. His feet stopped moving and, with a heavy grunt, another box was placed on the ground.

"That's odd..." He whispered after a moment.

Randall saw a second pair of feet approach while the man's back was turned and he was focused on the open boxes.

"Shit, if we have another thief among us-"

WHACK

Randall couldn't help but cringe at the sound. The man that had entered collapsed like a cheap suitcase, falling on top of the boxes and laying still. Randall waited for a moment, just to make sure he was really out, before leaving the safety of the desk. He saw Willow place a finger against the guy's neck.

"I overdid it a little." She smiled nervously, the rifle she had used to knock him out with in her other hand. "He'll be okay. Er, probably."

"That's three guys." Randall frowned to no one in particular. "It won't be long before someone starts wondering where these people are."
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It hadn't taken long to find those guys at all. They were either stupid or overconfident. Either way, they were exactly where they had wanted them. From her vantage point on the second story, Glenda brought the Winchester into her shoulder, lined up the shot, and pulled the trigger. A single shot echoed through the otherwise quiet evening, striking at the stop sign violently and leaving a hole directly in the middle of the O.

Now, all she had to do was wait for their move.
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