[center][b]Nathanson Convoy.
Yesterday.[/b][/center]
[i]Sam's hands tightened around the steering wheel. The quiet among the convoy left her ears ringing, and Darcy's odd silence wasn’t helping. Just to assure herself the kid was still sat in the passenger seat, Sam glanced down. She forced an uneven smile at the kid and stared back out at the campus security building. The rest of the convoy continued slowly into the campus. 

Someone popped out of their driver's seat window to swing a bat at the head of a walking corpse. Darcy snapped her eyes shut but didn't move or make a sound.

Sam rolled her shoulders back and cleared her throat. "Ready for a wild ride, short stuff?" By now she was pretty good at sounding more confident than she felt.

"Readier than you," Darcy muttered. She inched up her glasses and pinned her aunt with an all too familiar look, sending a wave of uncertainty through the air. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Of course it wasn't. "It's our safest bet for now." Sam twisted backwards, reaching for the tire iron in the back seat. "You wanna go marching up the streets with some brain dead psychos, you go ahead. You wanna live, you follow me." She fished a penknife out of her pocket and flipped the blade out.

"You're so dramatic." Darcy felt a sickness growing in her gut, the kind she used to get if she didn't eat a snack between breakfast and lunch. She took the penknife and crawled under the dashboard. "Someone tries to grab at you, jam this in their eye," her aunt instructed her some few days before. Darcy wasn't allowed to hold onto it unless Sam felt especially nervous.

Sam set the tire iron in her lap and began the slow drive into the campus.[/i]

[hr]
[center][b]Halliwell Administration Hall.
Now.[/b][/center]
Sam pulled her neice into the conference room and pointed to the back. With an audible grumble, Darcy dragged a chair aside and seated herself. Sam straightened her back and stood at the table, arms crossed. She spent the silence observing those who bothered to turn up. A natural frown took place on her features as the conversation began. None of these people could be trusted, she decided, and whatever they said would have to be questioned. 

Her eyes darted to the gun rested on the table. Her shoulders lifted and tensed.

She was still wearing the bright coloured work overalls she had on during the cataclysm, unbuttoned to the waist and tied by the sleeves. From the look of everyone else, they hadn't changed either. Somewhere to wash and pool resources ought to be established. 

The suggestions were to be expected, and Sam couldn't help agreeing, but anyone with half a mind would think the same. She had little to offer by way of politics. Yet, if they were to set up some form of government she'd be damned if she didn't have something to say about who ran this place.

She remained quiet for the most part, closely watching the speakers. Her neice huffed and rolled her eyes every so often. When there came a pause in conversation, Sam coughed. "Leadership's all well and good, but those trees ain't no wall." She nodded to the guy who suggested better security. "Ain't gonna stop dead people walking onto campus. Buildings ain't that safe neither." She neglected to mention the number of children the convoy had brought in, lest the room think her soft. It was bad enough she couldn't let Darcy out of her sight. "We get those rifles and start building a defences."