"So, what do we do about this?" [color=red]Connie Flanagan[/color] asked her more senior attendant after seemingly half of the group simply walked away.

[color=red]Harry Timms[/color] looked to his coworker, then to the distant group, then back.  He shrugged: "Nothing."

"[i]Nothing?[/i]" someone nearby asked.  "Whaddaya mean [i]nothing?[/i]  They took most of the guns and almost half of the people."

Harry was disappointed, of course, but he neither saw anything to do about it nor any reason [i]to[/i] do anything about it.  He said before heading toward the fuselage to check on the injured, "They want to live apart from us, so be it.  And as far as the guns go, we have four still and fifty rounds of ammo.  It'll keep us safe from whatever this place has to offer us."

"And what about them?" another person asked, nodding a head toward the other, better armed group.  "What if we need to be kept safe from them?"

"We won't," Harry said after stopping and turning back to the group. "We have no reason to feel threatened by Victoria's group. We have nothing the want."

Connie stepped toward Harry and gestured casually past him, saying, "Tell them that."

He turned to see a small group walking from the second camp their way; the Berettas were noticeably displayed in the waist bands of at least four of the seven.  As they arrived, Harry gave Javier a sharp look, then looked to [color=red]Victoria[/color], who was also armed.  He looked to the 9mm and asked, "Really? You think that's necessary?"

"We're about to find out," she responded.  She looked past him to one of the piles of supplies salvaged from the plane's wreckage, then to the fire where several small carcasses -- a pair of rabbits, a raccoon, and several fish -- were cooked or still cooking for the upcoming lunch.  "We want half of everything."

Harry couldn't help but laugh.  "[i]Half?[/i]"

"Why not?" she asked.  "Two groups.  Even split."

"There's only about 60 of them, Harry," [color=red]Cliff Sampson[/color] called from nearby.  When he garnered attention from Harry, Victoria, and others, he continued, "That's about 40% of--"

"[i]Cliff![/i]" a female voice chastised sharply from nearby.  The teen turned to find his mother, [color=red]Shari[/color] glaring at him.  She said softly, "Keep still."

"I trust the boy's math," Harry said in Cliff's direction before turning to face Victoria again.  "Seems fair: you have 40% of the people, you get 40% of the salvage."

"Not including the food ... 'cause you don't deserve it," Cliff added, ignoring his mother's warnings.  When Victoria looked his way, the boy gestured toward the fire pit and clarified with an accusatory tone, "My little hunting club killed all of this.  None of your people did shit."

His mother again snapped at him, but Cliff was undeterred.  "I made the snares and fishing poles, with Harry's help ... and some of the others helped, too, but none of your people did. [color=red]Connie[/color] cleaned the fish, and [color=red]Julia Rivers[/color] found the herbs for cooking them.  Tammy helped, too, [i]and[/i] [color=red]Harvey Kingston[/color], [i]and[/i] them."

On [i]them[/i], Cliff pointed to a trio of survivors who'd been more than eager to help catch and gather food to keep their bellies from rolling around within them.  He looked to where his sisters were standing together and added, "Even Sammi and Molly helped, and that's saying something since Sammi doesn't like to get her hands dirty now that she's discovered boys."

"Bite me," his slightly younger sister mumbled just loud enough for her siblings and mother to hear.  It was, of course, very true: Sammi's love for the outdoors had waned as she's begun turning into quite a young beauty and [i]boys[/i] had discovered [i]her![/i].

"We can feed ourselves," Victoria responded as if she was being challenged.

Harry thought he was detecting some rising tension amongst Victoria's armed escort, and while he didn't think that there was actually going to be a gangland style shoot'em up, he also didn't want to risk someone doing something stupid.  Everyone had seen Victoria's people carrying their own personal stuff away with them, from their own bags to the seat cushions, airport blankets, and more that had been distributed that first night and next morning.  To be honest, there really wasn't that much more that hadn't already been claimed.

"Half," he said, nodding his head toward one cache, then another.  He glanced back at Cliff, then to Victoria: "You can take half the food, too.  I'm confident we can replace it by sundown."

Victoria smiled with a bit of triumph in her expression before gesturing to her people to get their stuff.  But before they could get more than a couple of steps forward, Harry cut them off: "[i]Not[/i] like this!"  He glanced to the guns in some of his rival's waist bands and said, "[i]No[/i] one who's [i]packin'[/i] takes a step closer."  He looked to the beauty before him and, speaking specifically for her own ears said, "This is a recipe for disaster.  Victoria, I think you were wrong to split the group up, but I respect you for speaking your mind and stepping into a leadership role.  But [i]this[/i]..."

He now gestured toward the gun in her own waist band and added, "...was idiotic."

Harry hesitated for her reaction, but all he got was a stare and a slight smirk.  One of the men behind her stepped closer and murmured, "You don't have to take--"

But Victoria slowly lifted her hand in a [i]quiet[/i] gesture, and after the man [i]stood down[/i], she said over her shoulder, "Javier, collect the pistols.  The rest of you, go with our friend Harry and get our stuff."

The men and one woman [i]packin' heat[/i] were reluctant to varying degrees to give up the guns they'd brought with them, but all did ... except for Victoria.  But she also didn't move any closer to the piles of supplies that were now to be split between the two groups.  Harry called Harvey, Connie, and Shari forward and told them, "Help Victoria's people, if you don't mind."

"And we'll need half of the medical supplies the woman from the [i]other team[/i] said a moment later.

"No," Harry responded simply.  "The medical supplies stay with the infirmary ... which will continue to remain fully accessible to your people, just as it will to ... well, [i]mine[/i], for lack of a better word."  He could see that Victoria wasn't happy with this and clarified, "[color=red]Doc Mason[/color], [color=red]Peter[/color], [color=red]Paula[/color], [color=red]Helen[/color] ... [color=red]Addler[/color] and [color=red]Rosalee[/color] ... they're all still here with me."

"Maybe you need to take another look at your staff, Harry," Victoria countered.  Regarding the retired Navy SEAL medic, she said "[color=red]Peter Wilson's[/color] over at my camp.

That surprised Harry, and while he tried to hide his disappointment, he could see in Victoria's expression that had noticed his disappointment.  He said solemnly, "Well, that's his choice.  Still ... the meds stay here.  If the Chief needs something, he can come ask Doc Mason for it.  The meds stay here."

There was a brief argument behind Harry about what 50-50 meant, but it was settled quickly.  Victoria's people began heading off toward their own camp with their hands full and in some cases backs full.  One of Harry's people grabbed at a bag that, apparently, Victoria's man had already been told wasn't theirs.  A brief scuffle began but ended when Harry gave the man permission to take the package.  

When only Victoria and Javier remained -- the latter acting as if he were the former's bodyguard -- Harry stepped closer to the woman and spoke softly: "This could have gone much differently." He looked to her waist and the gun in her belt.  Looking back into her eyes again and stepping into her personal space -- something that put the gunrunner on guard -- Harry growled at Victoria, "Don't you [i]ever[/i] brings guns into this camp again."

Victoria smiled wide, then reached up and caressed Harry's face with soft fingers, something from which he pulled away.  She told him before turning and leaving, "I'm gonna miss you, Harry.  You're a nice guy.  I think we could have been good friends ... maybe [i]more[/i] than friends."  

Harry stood there in silence watching the woman head away toward the distant camp.  Then, gesturing to three of [i]his[/i] people who he'd learned had actual battlefield experience -- one each from Vietnam, Afghanistan, and Syria -- and had expressed a willingness and even desire to be part of the security force, Harry said, "I want a 24/7 watch on the infirmary, specifically the drugs.  We'll move the rest of the supplies into the fuselage as well. You up to it?"

All three answered in the affirmative, and Harry told them he would find others to help.  He then called the entire group together for a discussion about what lay ahead for them: they discussed night watches, foraging, hunting, water collection, the building of latrines, shower stalls, and -- of course -- more permanent housing.  "We have everything we need within half a mile of here to make a comfortable and secure home for ourselves: wood for building, food for ... well, eating, duh ... clean water."

"What about that saber tooth lion?" someone asked.  "When it gets hungry again..."

The person didn't finish the thought, but Harry responded: "We will build a perimeter to keep it out.  We will train people to stand watch with weapons, including the handguns.  I assure you: if [i]everyone[/i] chips in and puts out the effort, we can build a safe secure home where we will not only survive but will thrive."

There were more questions and conversations before Harry said, "Again, I want to bring up the idea of an election.  We need to decide--"

But before he could get any farther, someone called out, "[i]I nominate Harry Timms for the role of leader of our group.  Do I have a second?[/i]"

Someone quickly called out, "[i]Second![/i]"

The first person continued, "[i]All in favor of Harry Timms being our leader, say aye![/i]"

As he watched, nearly everyone in the crowd either called out or raised a hand or both.  He smiled wide with delight and pride.  The man who'd started this finished with, "[i]Mayor Harry Timms, speech![/i]"

There was laughter and playful calls of [i]Speech! Speech![/i]  Harry only waved them off and said, "Okay, knock it off.  We've got work to do."

He called a few people to him by name, then said to the entire crowd, "If you have an immediate concern, please bring it to me."

Harry spent the next three hours discussing vital topics with others, and by the time the sun was halfway between high noon and sunset, nearly every person in the camp was off working on a project for which they'd either volunteered or been assigned.  Harry, Connie, Shari, and Harvey stood together watching the survivors becoming busy bodies for a moment, and just before they themselves went to work, too, Harry told them in a serious tone, "We need to keep an eye on Victoria and her gun toting friends, but ... not in a way that makes it [i]seem[/i] like we're keeping an eye on them.  I believe that eventually, they'll come back into the fold.  But for now, we have to give them the freedom to realize for themselves that they are making a mistake."