The encampment in the Redwoods was small, really little more then a cluster of sixteen or so tents and five RV's but it was well defended, with a wall of logs stacked around it and a dry moat of spikes beyond that, the camp has only one entrance from the outside, a gate that is meant to have a guard on it at all times. Granted, as time goes on with nothing threatening rearing its ugly head in the woods anymore, the guard shifts have been getting pretty slack.
Connor shook his head slightly as he surveyed the area. What he hadn’t had the heart to say to the group quite yet was that while they appeared to be well secured and stocked on food and survival items there medical supply was desperately low. They would need to send people out into the field to get supplies.
It was a dilemma Connor was rather familiar with by now. Sending out only people he knew he could trust would leave the camp with too many rouge elements, while sending out a group of untrained, or worse possibly disloyal members could mean that the scavenging party could end up dead, or return with larger numbers against them.
He made his decision. Jason, his lieutenant and right hand man, as well as most of his squad, would stay behind to protect the group. He would bring Alan, Durrell, Lee, and Cyrek for sure. That would be a relatively honest well balanced group, and at the same time leave plenty of trustworthy people back to defend the camp.
He got up and headed to the central campfire and knocked twice on the pot to get the groups attention.

Lazarus was sitting in his tent when he heard the meeting signal come from the centre of the camp. He reached for his club which he used in non combat as his walking support and raised himself to his feet with it with some difficulty. He knew his dwindling sight and bad leg only endangered other members of the group and the old man's frustration at his lack of usefulness was deeply devouring him inside. He hadn't been able to defend his family or find them justice when tested and these feelings although buried for many years had made a provoked return as he had began to develop bonds with certain members of the group and cared much for their well being.

He shook himself from his thoughts and wrapped his thick jacket around himself tightly as to not let the cold of the outdoors creep in as he walked outside towards the centre of the camp where he assumed Connor, the small group of survivors natural leader was summoning them all from. His thoughts wandered as he saw the various faces that made up their small dysfunctional group meeting around the camp fire. He knew whatever Connor was summoning them for he would be of little use for but he came anyway in the hope that he would be able to provide some sort of service and contribute to the camp. He sat on one of the spare logs that had been placed around the fire as a place for the occupants to sit as he waited for meeting to commence. Being of little use to the physical efforts of the camp he often had time to reflect and observe. He had drawn opinions of the group from what he knew and his mind wandered over these opinions.

The Finn siblings had been here since the beginning of the camp's brief life with Connor organising much of camps defences with the help of the younger men. He bore the heavy burdens of much older men and was tasked with holding his position for the good of the camp's more vulnerable members. Lazarus had come across Abigail first as he walked the long road from Crescent city southwards towards the national park and Connor soon after Although Connor had been reluctant to trust outsiders or endanger themselves by bringing on a potential liability at first but quickly changed his mind with the help of a sympathetic Abby. He had, after all come from a long line of honourable soldiers and had sworn to protect those in need if he was able. Lazarus held both of them in high regard and realised that they were good and trustworthy people. He looked over at Alan, he was a shy young man and kept to himself mostly but did more than what was required of him to aid the camp. He seemed to carry demons of the horrors he has faced as a result of epidemic that had swept the nation.

His eyes then passed over some of the more questionable members of the group, he frowned slightly as his opinions of them entered his mind. Cruse didn't seem to hold much regard for authority which seemed unusual as he was a military man and there was a little tension between him and Connor as the latter existed as their unofficial leader but Cruse was possibly the most adept fighter among them all and was a largely responsible for the camp still remaining in one piece. Lee seemed to act in the best interests of the community although he barely spoke the same language as Lazarus but then again Lazarus did believe in the saying "Actions speak louder than words." Durrell was held in the lowest regards by Lazarus as he had come across many gang members who often mistreated him while he was living on the streets of Crescent city and Durrell was an obvious criminal. Lastly he observed Luciano. He knew the least about this man, he was quiet and kept to himself like Alan but perhaps his age made him more adept at hiding his emotions that the former so he remained somewhat of an enigma to Lazarus although he had picked up enough to suspect that Luciano was successful in whatever his field, perhaps a self made business man.

With a soft rustle, the branches of a tree parted and revealed two observant eyes scanning the landscape below and around. erched on the branch of a tree. The branch was sturdy and thick, it was Lee's favorite place to stay, the camp had too much activity, it was suffocating. The tranquil peace of nature suited him much better. Leaning up against the body of the tree, Lee let his feet dangle down below him. It was from here he could see the camp. He had joined the group in order to survive, and it was working, but not being able to speak to anyone as well as being unable to roam the forest freely made him question his decision. The language barrier made it tough but he had come to the conclusion that the group wasn't dangerous to him.

Some movement down below caught his attention. Silently he removed his bow from his shoulder and unlatched the cloth covering on his arrows. Drawing an arrow he nocked it quickly, and pulled the bowstring back until it was taught. Holding his breath he waited for whatever was in the bushes to walk out, or stumble out. A few moments of silence fell as he held his breath, it was if the whole forest had quieted itself in order to watch. The bushes parted and a doe walked out. Releasing his breath he fired the arrow, with a whiz the arrow shot through the air and landed directly in the doe's eye, an instant kill. The doe fell to the ground with a thump. In the former world, Lee remembered hunting these was illegal, but not anymore. Dropping down, Lee removed his arrow from the downed deer's eye socket and slumped it over his shoulders.

He reentered the camp with the deer on his shoulders and heard the clanking of pots. That usually meant it was time for a "group meeting", it was one of the things he had figure out since joining the English-speaking group. Dropping the deer he walked to the people gathering as usual, he leaned against the RV at the very back and listened.

Durrell

I lay in the driver seat of my car, reclined all the way back, my bandana over my face to help me relax. It worked decently as a bed, and even better as a shelter. I knew that these honkies probably wouldn't let me come anywhere near their trashy RVs. Shit, they would have probably shot me dead if I even touched one of their over-glorified trailers. I chuckled at the thought of it, of how daft the prospect of them shooting someone they allied with. However, it still was a very real possibility. All the murderer would have to do was say it was just self defense and no one would bat an eyelash. After all, why would they think different, some black gang-banger got dangerously close to their own property, of course it was "self defense". Whatever, as long as I kept as far away from those WASP a-holes it was smooth sailing. I mean, free food and protection just for doing odd jobs here and there was a godsend in this sort of situation, even if I did had to deal with some rather colorful characters and their colorful vocabulary, especially at the start of this whole thing. I swear there was one bitch who actually said "Is that black guy gonna kill me?" behind my back. At least I could confine myself to the comfort and silence of my own car for most of the time, even if I didn't have any rolling papers.

With that said, there were a few outstanding fellows who were pretty cool, at least in my eyes. That chink kept quiet most of the time, he was weird, but at least he wasn't stupid. Other than that, there was another guy, some teenager, looked pretty jaded. He was way too reserved, rarely spoke, probably took either crack or meth in his spare time. The rest of the camp was populated with soldier boys, WASPs, or a mixture of the two. Although one guy was real weird, and I mean REAL weird. Some fuckin hobo who looked 5 years past his expiration date, and would probably croak the next time sneezed. I didn't give him any trouble, it really wasn't any of my business, judging the people here. Although I was a bit bummed by the disturbing lack of the opposite sex. I guess it really was true about what they do in the Army. But there was this one chick I saw before, white girl, looked like some sort of jailbait mixed in with a gallon of white trash. I guess it wasn't much, but I would have to make do.

Before I could really get to comfortable, some asshole started ringing what sounded like a bell, except more raw. Like someone decided to go full retard on a chamberpot. Now, I haven't heard much of this sound before, obviously it was meant to call my attention, but to what? We used it before, but we never really designated it to any specific activity, just to get everyone's attention. Dumbass honkies and their ambiguity.

I grabbed my AK and almost all my other gear. I managed to find a way to attach the handbag snugly to my hips, allowing for storage on-the-go. It looked rather stupid, but it was effective, as it allowed me to hold way more gear, until I managed to get some sort of backpack. I got out of my car, making sure to lock it, and headed over to the commotion already brewing. A few idiots moved away as soon as I got there though. Of course, making sure that they didn't get the negro virus or whatever they think.

The sound of the pot being smacked a few times cut through the silence, but only minimally. It was always important to maintain light and noise discipline in this small group of survivors, and Connor at least had this training ingrained into him, which was congratulated by silence from Cruse. Cyrek Krusek, as his full name went, was never one to speak too loudly of his complaints, unless it was putting someone else in their place for complaining. He was never one to brag or congratulate people profusely. He was a great embodiment of the quiet professional that the military prized so much. It was unfortunate that he left, as he was being considered for more advanced training, in the forms of earning a commission and Special Operation Forces. But, he decided to leave for a PMC job with the hopes of getting better pay.

Cruse had been instructing a few of the children with firearms. He enjoyed training people, though sometimes frustrated if someone could not do something correctly. He still enjoyed teaching other people something that had been a large part of his life for so long and nowadays, remained so. It was also essential for defending Redwood. Cruse was also surprisingly good with kids. He had not always been so, but in his deployments he had been around a lot of children and found himself doing babysitting duty. He even went and took care of kids and mothers at those support groups for military families with deployed service members. As cold and highly trained a fighter as he was, that was not all there always was to military service, and he gained rank for many reasons, one of them being his volunteer work for the family support groups.

He respected many of the elder, but he was not one to like officers or politicians. Politicians were mostly despised by him. As much as he didn't like officers, he disliked insurgents and disloyal degenerates far more. He might have been known for hating officers, but he would never be known for being disloyal. He would respect Connor as his leader, but would always make sure he was aware of the large difference in training between the two.

Cruse assembled up with the rest, assuring the children that he would be back to finish their lessons and make sure they were good with firearms. He walked up to the group and presented himself in the large space between Durrell and some of the other members. Cruse spotted a young man on guard duty vacating his post to pay more attention to Connor's assembly. Cruse's response was quick as he captured the young man's attention, and gave furious hand signals for him to keep focus on his duty. Somehow, it worked and the young man was back to focusing on his duty and Cruse was back to waiting for everyone to gather around, so Connor could give the briefing.

Alan sat in an empty tent, slowly undergoing the process of waking up. It was small, and rather barren, with the exception of a sleeping bag, Alan’s baseball bat, and his pack. He felt reminded of stupid memories of camping as child, an activity he hadn’t enjoyed, and still didn’t. However, the security of the camp more than made up for it. There was food, weapons, and other people, something Alan had missed for a long time. He heard Connor trying to gather everyone. He sighed slightly as he picked up his bat and stepped out of the tent.

He held a hand over his face as his eyes adjusted to the sudden light. He slowly walked towards the group that was forming around a campfire, his bat dragging lightly behind him. He took a moment to look around at the group. There was Connor, the group’s current leader, who had called everyone together. Both Connor and Alan weren’t too far apart in age, and got along rather well, though there was a clear cut difference between them. He tried to spot Abigail, but had little success. Lazarus was there as well. Although he was old, he must have been doing something right to have survived this long. Also present was Lee, who had just brought in a deer. Although he hadn’t talked with him much, he was one of the stronger survivors within the group. On the note of strong survivors, there was Durrell. It was clear that he had had a rather easy time transitioning to this new world. Alan didn’t truly trust him, though he respected him. And finally, Cyrek. He and Connor were similar despite the age gap, and Alan knew that he had a clear understanding of survival.

Although he got along with the Finn siblings, he still felt rather awkward and an outsider to the group. He understood the implications of keeping to himself, and that people didn’t necessarily trust him because of it, but still. “What do you need Connor?” He asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to the answer. Although Alan tried to help out as he could, he still couldn’t handle combat situation well. Not that he thought that was an entirely bad thing. He didn’t look forward to the day he was proud of his ability to fight.

"Alright, I'll make this quick and short. We have a good amount of food, both what is stocked and stored and what we are bringing in from hunting. We are fairly well stocked on ammunition, and our defenses are relatively stable. We do however have a concerning lack of medical supplies. There is a hospital near here, only about fifteen miles from camp, its in Crescent City, which from what we have gathered is relatively empty, with only a few of the infected still around. I think we should take a small group to the hospital and scavenge some supplies. While we are in the area we can check the police station in the city and keep an eye out for survivors. It's always possible that there may be more people out there." Connor spoke quietly, but made sure to enunciate, finding a balance between being loud enough to be heard, but not being overly loud, so that his voice would never carry past the circle of survivors.

“I want to leave at dawn, it shouldn’t take more then a day. Dwayne, Serena, Alan, Durrell, Lee, Cyrek, and Roland, you all are with me. The rest of you stay at the camp, keep the guard rotations moving.” Connor spoke with gentle authority. He knew he could trus DM and Sir. Alan was a good kid, he meant well, and Lee and Cyrek were both good people, whether or not they liked him. Durrell and Roland were loose cannons though. He felt like he could trust his people though and he certainly didn’t want to leave either of them behind at the camp. He needed those two where he could keep an eye on them.

Lazarus nodded rhetorically and got to his feet. He always came to the meetings to show his support even though he was rarely called upon to do anything important due to the unpredictability of his health. He observed Connor gather the men he had requested to his side. He had divided a good balance between the survivors staying at the camp and those who would venture from it for supplies. Lazarus had been lucky to not have ran into any of the infected when he roamed the road southwards from Crescent city but if the survivors were to be stranded in the wild again without the safety of their walls he would be no more than a dangerous liability, something he had told himself he would not be. He wandered around the small camp, it was half prison and half home but it was the only option they had. Lazarus had long accepted that life was something to be endured not enjoyed and all this outbreak had done was lower the standard of living of those who had previously been "above" him in a sense. He knew that he would be lucky to survive one on one against one of the infected but in addition to this knowledge he knew that he would give his life to protect the others in the camp. Why should a man almost dead be afraid to sacrifice himself for one who has a long life ahead of them, even if it is a life in this bleak reality. Lazarus pondered these thoughts as he strolled the perimeter of the camp slowly.

Cruse looked around the camp, not really intimidated or surprised about going on the mission. He had become at ease with putting himself in harms way, as it became a part of his life for so long. He spotted Lazarus looking a slight bit miserable, or so he perceived him to be. The old man didn't always look to be the most chipper in the world. No surprise. He had been through a lot more than Cruse had been through, as he had lived longer, and even though the man didn't have the experiences Cruse had, he still earned his respect.

Cruse had learned to respect those who were barred from going on the front lines. He wondered if Lazarus might want to join them on the mission. Cruse called out to, suddenly "Hey Lazarus, I'll try to bring you back a firearm you can use! If I get lucky, I can get you a 10/22 Ruger! Hell, if I don't find that, I'll bring you the nicest .22LR I can find!" The Ruger 10/22 was probably one of the most popular semi-auto .22LRs back in the day. The old man would have no trouble using it, with it having such a light kick. However, having the gun wouldn't be so great without some good 25 round magazines. The best ones were the Ruger BX-25s.

Cruse was usually up for, even just attempting, cheering someone up. Morale needed improvement constantly. Even him, with a serious chip on his shoulder on good training, would stop to try and stay positive. Having fun was one of the best things for morale. Cruse also had another plan for the kids that would cheer them up. He was looking specifically for a soccer ball. Some of the children had been pestering him to find them one, and he was just the man to be suckered in to doing it. It wouldn't be a problem for him. He just had to keep focus on the true purpose of the mission, even if it meant disappointing some people when he got back. Coming back alive, with supplies, was better than dying while trying to find something that was not a necessity to survival.

The sun wasn't quite up yet, the sky was just barely beginning to lighten on the eastern horizon, giving the vaguest hints of pink to the far side of the sky over the mountains. Connor had taken his map and set out six different possible routes to take from here to the Crescent City hospital in case any had been blocked by road traffic or by nature taking back it's hold. He was planning on leaving on foot for the initial journey, as there was a small reserve of gasoline left over, and that was all in reserve for the trailers and the escape cars, in the event of a WCS (Worst Case Scenario), so taking a vehicle to begin with was absolutely out of the question, but if the path in appeared to be clear, and they could find then, they could bring back any vehicles they found to both add to their fleet of escape vehicles, and to bolster their defenses. They could use the cars as extra barricades, or as inner supports to the wooden wall they had surrounding the camp.

He shook himself from those thoughts as he saw DM and Sir walking towards him, the first of the individuals he had called to come with him. He quickly checked his weapons, first touching the knife and checking its slide out of its sheath to make sure it moved fluidly, then testing the hatchet and crow bar. Finally he shifted his weight slightly, feeling the hidden revolver safely stored where he hid it, and then drew and checked the load on his glock, one full clip in the gun, and three full clips in his belt. Finally he swung the shot gun around on its strap checking the eight shells that were already loaded in the magazine, he then checked the chamber shell. The initial loads were all Foster slugs, heavier at the from with hollow backs to highly improve accuracy, along with sixteen buck shot rounds, a bakers dozen of home packed fletchette rounds for lethal purposes. On the non-leathal end of the spectrum he had a hand full of flare rounds, two gas rounds, a couple breaching rounds, two bird bombs, four screechers, a bolo round and another handful of dragons breath round, all neatly ordered and safely secured in his pack. After checking his weapons and ammunition he quickly went through his pack ensuring that all of his gear was were it needed to be.

As DM and Sir saw their CO going through a check of his equipment they did the same. Dwayne quickly checked his weapons quickly, a Heckler and Koch MP5 9mm sub hanging from his left hip served as his small armament and an HK416 served as his main weapon, both of which were lifted from a Swat member who had clocked out early on during the outbreak. Serena was armed with an almost comedic contrast of weapons. Her side arm was a Smith and Wesson J-frame snubbie, which while still firing a .38 special, was one of the smallest handguns Connor had ever seen, but her primary rifle was a Barrett M82 rifle, with the rifle Serena liked to say she could take out an enemy from so far out they would never get to hear the shot that killed them. In addition to their weapons they also checked their packs, each containing items of a similar assortment as Connor's own pack.

Alan woke from his nightmares, cradling his bat in his arms. He sat upright in the tent, breathing quickly, sweat on his brow. He didn’t get much sleep these days, but this night had been particularly brutal. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he threw on some clothes and equipped himself with his bat and pack and made his way out from the tent.
When he heard he was going on the mission, he hadn’t been excited. Alan wasn’t a combatant, nor a real survivor. Although he was glad to be alive, he still questioned whether or not things would get any better. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alive if things stayed the way they were. These sort of melancholy thoughts weren’t unusual to Alan, though he knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that before he went off. He hadn’t left the camp in quite some time, and fear was creeping upon him.
He quickly spotted Connor and a few other soldiers grouped up. They seemed ready to go. He glanced at their various firearms. He had never shot one before. He knew all that could happen when someone inexperienced fired one, and he didn’t want to risk it. He looked up at Connor. “Morning.” He said quietly. “I’m ready to go. I think.”