Better Late than Never *open*

[Sullivan Maxfield]

Patrol...patrol was something that Sully usually found to be redundant. He would go out into the desert surrounding Haven and look for zombies or anything else that might pose a threat to the fortified settlement. Sometimes he would find a zombie or two and take them out quickly and sometimes he would find a dodgy looking vagabond and send them in the direction of New Vegas. If it was the later, he would follow for a spell to make sure they didn't double back. Haven was Sully's home and he was not going to let anyone or anything threaten it. Most days were the same.

Today, however, it was far from the same old same old. Today, he saw smoke in the distance. It was thick, black smoke billowing into the sky. It was definitely not a wildfire, which in itself could devastate Haven. No, it was coming from...something. Sully began running in the direction of the smoke. He had to see what it was.

It wasn't long before the scene came into view. Sully stopped and dropped to the ground to take in the drama that was unfolding from a less visible station. Zombies were snarling and gnashing their jaws at something Sully had not seen before. On the ground were two large horses, dead. Behind them was the old broken down, engine less vehicle they had been pulling. Trying to get to the underside of the vehicle was what could only be a Worgen...it barely resembled a Lycan, from the pictures Sully had been shown. Its snout was covered in huge, deep gaping wounds that dripped with muck and puss. It had lost most of its fur and had wounds similar to the ones on its face, all over its body, only worse. Its fangs dripped with some kind of thick yellow drool. Its snarls were raspy, thick and wet. This was one creature, he had hoped he would never come into contact with.

It was not a good thing that the Worgen was so close to Haven. Sully didn't have the proper weapons to kill the thing. It was simply mad with rage as it swung its massive claws at each Zombie, splitting their bodies in half or crushing their heads. The size of the horde was large enough, it might buy Sully enough time to get back to Haven and get help. Just as he turned to go, he heard a scream...

Sully's attention immediately went into the direction of the scream. Under the turned over vehicle was what looked like a space just small enough to crawl into. Two Zombies were reaching into the crawl space for something...another scream. It was the scream of a terrified child. One Zombie pulled back with a foot in its grasp. The other Zombie was picked up and indignantly thrown by the Worgen.

By now, Sully could see the legs and hips of the child. The second Zombie was grabbed, its grasp on the child released as it was thrown through the air. The jeans clad legs and torn pink sneakers immediately disappeared under the wreckage. Sully's mind spun with possibilities. That crawl space was not safe. If the Zombies could pull her out, it was only a matter of time before the Worgen got to her. That was, if there was any time to wait because the vehicle was on fire and it was spreading fast. The child would burn in a matter of minutes. Sully could do nothing less than try to rescue her.

Sully scrambled to his feet and circled around the wreckage so he could come up, unseen on the other side of the burning twisted metal. With a mighty shove, he pushed the vehicle over, exposing the hole in the ground where the child lay and crushing several zombies on the other side. The Worgen was pinned down by the heavy machine but that wouldn't last long. Sully looked down at the terrified child who screamed again. He put his finger to his lips to silence her and her scream immediately stopped. Sully held his hands out and motioned to the girl to come to him. She flew into his arms and clung to him. Sully turned and ran. He knew they wouldn't have much time before the Worgen realized that its prey was now missing.

Sully ran toward the distant blur on the horizon that was Haven. Patrols were supposed to run in pairs but if Sully had to wait on his partner, he would forge out ahead on his own. Sometimes his partners would show up later, sometimes they couldn't find him. It wasn't their fault, Sully had no patience for tardiness. Today, he wished his patrol partner had shown up in time, or that he had not trekked out on his own. At least the child was light, bordering on starved from what he could tell. How long had she been out in the desert? Obviously her parents or guardians were killed in the Zombie attack or by the Worgen. He would find out later, he supposed. For now all he could do was run and hope he had time to get to Haven before the Worgen caught the trail...

Just when he made the thoughts of hope, he heard a vicious, angry howl of rage. The loss of its prey had been discovered. If it were possible to run faster, Sully did it. Sully was faster at running then anyone he knew. He didn't know why. His blood tests had come out saying he was definitely not a mutant. He was just fast. He didn't know anything about his parents so it was believe that he just had some wild genetic trait. He was also stronger. He kept that to himself the best he could but people knew he was exceptionally strong. He also never got sick, but then again, a lot of people had strong immune systems and never got sick. But all this was neither here nor there. If that Worgen caught them, he would be dead anyway.

His breath came out in great, deep inhalations and exhalations as he focused on keeping his blood oxygenated so he would not lost his endurance. Endurance or no, the Worgen was faster than he was. Soon he could hear it galloping on all fours in his direction, snarling and growling in a zombiesque manner. This was bad. As fast as Sully was, the Worgen was a lot faster.

Sully spotted and arroyo ahead and ran for it. It might have some kind of cover. Maybe it was narrow enough to slow the beast down. Maybe there were hiding places. Before he could reach the deep dry gully that had been cut by an intermittent stream on the rare occasion that it rained, a thick, heavy paw reached out and hit him from behind. He tucked the child against his chest and rolled in the air so he landed on his back. He realized his plan was not the best in the world as he slid on his back into the dry gulch falling backwards and head first into the rocks. He nearly blacked out but was roused quickly by the ear piercing shriek the child let out. The Worgen was looking down in to the ditch, yellow ooze dripping form its teeth. This was it, it was over. He hugged the girl tight to his chest, "Close your eyes." he whispered and closed his own. He made eye contact with the creature just as its paw swung back for the killing blow. Suddenly, a shot rang out. KAPOW!

Sully watched in slow motion as the vile animal tipped forward and fell on top of him and the child pinning them down.

"Sully! You OK!?" came a familiar voice above, followed by a familiar face.

Sully grimaced and looked up at his long time acquaintance, "Ow..." he whimpered.

[Jericho Greybear]

Jericho wasn't a big fan of patrols. He understood the need for them on a technical level, but to him personally it always felt like he were milling about pointlessly just waiting for something to happen, instead of going out there and making something happen. He didn't care much for the partner he had drawn for this patrol either. Davies just never shut up. He had rapidly come to realise that no response was actually required from him to the endless stream of chatter and rhetorical questions, a fact that had come as something of a relief, Jericho didn't talk much unless he had something important to say. He had tried to filter out the rambling voice however the constant noise was becoming a major distraction to him and he could feel his head starting to ache.

His horse's ears twitched again and Jericho reigned it to a halt. The horse responded but seemed a little skittish. Something wasn't right. “Davies?” he called quietly, but the other man hadn't even paused in either his monologue or his forward motion. Jericho was suddenly furious and he spurred his horse forward again, lashing out without warning to strike Davies sharply at the base of the skull sending the man sprawling from his horse. He caught the horse's reins and wheeled both mounts around. “Shut the hell up when I am trying to listen!” he snarled furiously. Damn it! He hadn't meant to lose it like that with Davies, it was getting hard enough to find anyone who wanted to partner him on these patrols without his partners coming back bloody.

Sinjon was going to be pissed at him if this ass-hole complained to the Admiral, and Jericho hated to disappoint his brother like that. Davies was however just too stupid to stay down. “You little son of a bitch...” he growled as he stood up, his hand going instinctively to his split lip. That insult was just more than Jericho could take and his rage exploded as he kicked the man in the face and hurled himself from the saddle to pound his fists into Davies' face until the bigger man was begging and gurgling through his broken nose and cracked cheek. “P...pu..pulese Jericho... stop...” The red haze lifted from Jericho's vision to be replaced by the bloody face of his partner. Oh God, what had he done? Davies shouldn't have mentioned his mother, Jericho had worshipped her...

Hearing one of the horses whinny nervously Jericho was instantly back on his feet, catching the reins again in his now bloodied hands. He pulled the telescope from his saddlebag and scanned the horizon ahead. In the direction of a small rock outcrop he could see one of the foot patrols, or at least one man from a team half way between it and them, desperately signalling for their attention. “Mount up Davies or I'll leave you for the corpses.” Jericho was quite suddenly all cold precision. This situation had all the trappings of a great big fubar and that was what Jericho dealt with best. When Davies sat up Jericho tossed him the reins, mounted his horse and spurred it into a gallop towards the lone patrol man.

Jericho slowed his horse as he approached the patroler, but the man waved him on towards the rocks, “Worgan!” he yelled “Sully's got a civi...” The idea of a worgan so close to Haven was enough to make anyone's blood run cold, even Jericho, but abandoning Sully was just not an option. His horse leaped forward again, the scent of the beast clearly the source of its previous agitation but a horse that couldn't get past that fear for its rider was no use to a Havenite. He was almost at the rocks when he heard the high pitched screaming of a child echoing up from the ravine. He pulled the frothing horse to a walk, drawing the large calibre rifle with its special load from the saddle holster just as a huge dark shape reared up over the ravine. Jericho fired.

The bullet took the beast squarely in the head, shattering the front of the skull as it entered and fragmenting explosively inside. The worgan's head disintegrated in a cloud silver shrapnel and rancid flesh. The stench of the creature was now quite clearly perceptible even from where Jericho stood. Galloping hooves rang out and he turned to see Davies arriving, the other man riding behind him. The horse was frothing and panting, neither of these mounts was going to be much good for a couple of days. The patroler slid down from the horse and ran forward to peer down into the ravine where the worgan had fallen, calling down to his partner.

Jericho reloaded the rifle before he dismounted slowly. Whilst he was certain that worgan wouldn't be causing any more trouble he wasn't taking any chances with the possibility of there being another one about. There were not many things could drop a worgan fast enough to do anyone any good and while he was the man holding one he wasn't going to let his guard down. He scrambled up the rocks some way, getting his first clear view of the distant wreckage and milling zombies. “Sully...” he called back toward the ravine without taking his eyes from the distant shambling dead. “You and that civi clean...?” It was a bastard of a question to have to ask but a necessary one.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

Most residences heard the story about how Sully was found. It was estimated that he spent 2 to 3 days pinned under the tin shed roof where his parents lay dead and decaying. It was uncertain how long he was under there with the Zombies trying to get to him before he passed out from dehydration and the heat. They knew that someone, most likely priests and/or hunters took out the Zombie horde that devastated the camp and they completely overlooked the child Sully in his protective hiding place. As a result, Sully had terrible nightmares of being held down with the smell of decay and viscous creatures clawing at his arms and legs as they tried to get to him.

Now, with the smell of the rancid decaying creature, its weight crushing down on him, his arms useless because he was holding the child and keeping the weight of the creature from crushing her at the same time, that familiar feeling of panic slowly crept its way into his head. First his heart began to race, then, he broke into a cold sweat. Sully looked right then left the right again, his eyes were wide with panic. "God, please no." he croaked. The child had begun to scream again and that was not helping matters. Jericho's voice was a beacon of focus.

"Get it off!" he demanded. He pushed and heaved with his legs but if he flailed too much, it would endanger the screaming child. The girl was putting them all in danger by drawing more attention from the distant Zombies if they heard her. "Get it off!" he demanded again. The memory of his childhood ordeal was flooding into his thoughts and he was unable to steady the flow of adrenaline that was now pumping through is body. "Jericho! Jericho! Get it...get it...please!" he wailed and struggled against the heavy heap that was pinning him to the ground. If he didn't have the child...

Suddenly the weight seemed to lift and he made his move to get out. First he pushed the girl over and off himself. She quickly climbed out of the ravine and ran to the waiting men. Panic already took over. Sully rolled out from under the beast and scrambled for cover. He pulled his side arm and pointed it in front of him, aiming at anything that moved. Suddenly a bloody face that was swollen and purple in places appeared in front of him, their hands extended. One bullet to the forehead and the man dropped. Sully roared at what he thought was a zombie. Looks like a zombie, smells like a zombie (everything smelled like decay with the muck splattered all over everything), must be a zombie.

Sully waved his side arm back and forth, looking for a new target. His eyes were wild with panic. He was ready to shoot anything that moved. Anyone that knew Sully, knew that when he was like this, he needed to be approached very carefully or risk death or dismemberment. He wasn't playing games.

[Jericho Greybear]

Jericho scanned the wasteland carefully and methodically. The distant zombies didn't seem to have noticed them yet and there was only the one set of worgan tracks on the approach to the rocks. It looked like they were clear for now but they needed to get moving. The child's high pitched keening had begun again and it was grating on his ears not to mention carrying out towards the wreckage and the shambling dead. He scowled in irritation, turning to glare at Davies and Sully's partner. “What are you two just standing around gawking at? Get that thing off of him and shut that kid the hell up. She's gonna bring more of them at this rate, and get her checked for bites too.”

He could clearly hear the edge of panic creeping through Sully's voice like strangle-weed as the man continued to call for help but with the immediate danger past the other men were dawdling. Jericho shook his head in disbelief. He did not 'get' people. Not even slightly. They were on the whole slow-witted and totally irrational. You never knew what they were going to do or say next. They followed some insane pattern that he could never manage to wrap his head around. Sometimes he wished he were more like his brother. People liked Sinjon, they listened to him and respected him. With Jericho they were just ass-holes. “Move!” he snapped again at the two men. Couldn't the idiots hear?

Suddenly the wailing child was scrambling out of the ravine and she ran straight for Jericho. He looked down at the child in bewilderment as she threw herself at him and clung sobbing to his jacket. Gods but she stank. Rancid worgan purée was splattered all over her and now it was on him too. Bloody typical! He was going to reek of it all the way back to Haven. He stood there in confusion, unwilling to set down the rifle in order to prise the child off of him and being pretty sure that clubbing her over the head with it would probably get called an overreaction. “Sully...?” he called out impatiently. He had been the one who had rescued the kid, he could deal with her.

The single shot rang out and Jericho cursed under his breath, he had allowed the child to distract him and now he had to deal with the consequences of that lapse. It took only the smallest movement for him to turn slightly and bring the heavy rifle to bear on the explosive situation developing by the ravine. He was holding the rifle at hip hight, but at this range aiming was pretty redundant. The high power explosive round would decapitate a man by the simple expedient of vaporising his torso. Jericho didn't need to do anything but pull the trigger. With one rapid pass of his eyes he took in the entire situation as it spiralled rapidly towards Hell and made his move to put on the brakes.

“Ease down Sully...” he called out, not shouting but his voice clear and carrying. It was a voice that many shocked and injured raiders had clung to as the world slipped into chaos around them. It was not the voice of someone who hesitated. Sully's partner had frozen at the gunshot and was staring in horror at Davies' body where it had fallen beside the headless worgan. Mercifully he seemed either too shocked or too smart to make any sudden moves as Sully scrambled for cover sweeping his side-arm franticly about him. “Sully...” Jericho called again in the same calm voice, “You're wasting ammo. No wildfire... check your targets. You were taught better than that. You hearing me Sully?”

Jericho made no move other than smallest adjustments required to keep the rifle levelled at Sully's position. “Stand down Sully... we're done here. Let's go home.” There was a disturbing intensity to Jericho when he brought a situation into focus, and an unfailing ability to pare things down to the simplest of choices. He gazed levelly at where Sully had taken cover, his head cocked slightly giving him a mildly curious posture. His rich brown eyes were neither cold nor empty, they were purely indifferent. Like everything else about Jericho, there were only two settings – on and off. The whimpering child, Davies corpse, the stench of rotten meat: everything melted away. He would have to pull the trigger or he wouldn't, the next move was Sully's.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

Sullys breath was all he could hear. In and out, inhale, exhale. The world seemed to slow down but his eyes remained wild and darted back and forth. The dust was settling from the sudden influx of movement in the dusty ravine. The air was becoming more clear. He looked from the worgen to the dead zombie who was not really a zombie. He certainly looked like one and as far as Sully knew, it was one.

Something was wrong here. Something….something was very wrong. Somewhere in the distance, yet very close by, Sully began to hear the woeful keening of the child. It died to a hiccupping whimper. There was something else. A voice?

Sully’s eyes turned upward toward the top of the ravine. There…the voice came from there.

“You’re wasting ammo……..check your targets….hearing me Sully?”

They knew his name. The voice was familiar but, who? Sully’s head began to clear but the conflicting beliefs that he was under attack made him dizzy. His head began to ache but reality made its way to the forefront. “R.r.roger,” he stammered, “Reading you five…” Sully looked back at the two bodies which were motionless. “Just…uh…” he wiped desperately at the muck on his face, “Capping a dead head and checking my six.” He justified his behavior to mean he killed the zombie, which wasn’t a zombie at all, and making sure the two creatures were dead. “Coming out, safety on.” He stood up and turned to face his long time brother in arms, holding his gun high in the air. Once he knew Jericho hand a fix on it, he slowly lowered it and tucked it in his holster. “Home sounds good.” He began climbing out of the arroyo. “But there is a horde nearby, we should probably clean it, won’t be long before they make it to the perimeter.” He was covered in dirt, grime and worgen blood but he was still ready for a fight.

Suddenly the child screamed again. This time it was a terror shriek. Sully turned to see the zombies were making their way toward the ravine. He turned sharply on his patrol mate, who the child was clinging to, “Get that out of here. She’ll have every dead head walker within 5 miles zoning in on us!” he commanded. The man selected the least fatigued horse, jumped on it with the girl and took off toward Haven. “There goes another horse.” He shook his head and turned back to Jericho, “Looks like we don’t have a choice now. You ready to use that fancy gun again?” He turned again toward the walking dead, pulled his gun and aimed at the closest zombie, “In case I don’t get the chance again, Jer…” he said without emotion, “Thanks.” He pulled the trigger.

[Jericho Greybear]

The long moment stretched out interminably. The child's sobs had died away and the silence was punctuated only by the soft settling of dust and debris. Jericho remained motionless, just waiting, as the seconds ticked past with agonising lassitude. Patience was not one of his virtues, and everyone knew it. Jericho became quickly bored and agitated with watches and delays, but this was not patience. This was readiness, and Jericho could hold that knife-edge state for longer than was sane. It was hardly surprising really, when by the standards of a less desperate and more civilised time, Jericho was not in point of fact sane at all...

The tension broke abruptly when Sully's voice sounded weakly from the ravine, shaky but close to lucid. His partner swore softly as the relief visibly flooded through him and scrambled back from the ravine edge and over toward Jericho, keeping well clear of his line of fire as he realised the other man had still not turned aside the rifle. Murmuring softly and comfortingly to the child, the patroler had little trouble persuading her to abandon her hold on the intense and unresponsive Jericho in favour of his own far more reassuring offered hug. Only when Sully had tucked this side-arm back into the holster did Jericho give him a nod and finally put up the rifle.

No-one knew really what triggered the zombies to make another massed attack on the Haven perimeter. The scouts and strategists had been trying to find a pattern to it for decades. Small groups seemed to form up fairly randomly and when two met they joined into one larger group. That was how it started anyway. Past a certain size though the hordes stopped looking quite so random and after that it was just a matter of time before they turned towards Haven. Picking off the smaller groups and harrying the middling ones had proven a fairly effective strategy for the Havenites in cutting down on the number of massed attacks that reached their walls.

Jericho nodded again in agreement with Sully's assessment. If there was a horde forming up this close they needed to break it up fast, but the presence of the worgen was still a major issue. “Someone needs to get a warning back about the worgen asap. Where there's one...” He never got a chance to finish the sentence before the child let out another piercing shriek. Jericho felt a pang of jealousy as the patroler jumped to follow Sully's sharp order. It would be nice he thought bitterly if people jumped like that for him instead of just gawking about until everything went to shit. Lost in his own lack of self, Jericho had no idea just how much Haven valued his talent for taking command in a crisis.

He sighed as the patroler tore away from them back towards Haven. At least they would get the warning now. Typically it was his horse that the man had selected... and he remembered that no-one had checked the kid over like he'd told them to. Was he the only one who remembered that the virus didn't kill straight away? Dammit! He would bitch at Sinjon about it when they got back, right now they had zombies to clean. He ejected the special load from the rifle and clipped it back to his bandoleer, replacing it in the rifle with a more standard one. No point wasting limited supplies like that on regular shamblers. He raised the rifle to take aim at the more distant lurching figures towards the back of the mob. “Let's do this.”

It was actually something of a relief for Jericho to be able to stop thinking and just do. Sully had caused him a momentary twinge of panic when he had thanked him. He had no idea how to respond to the comment, but thankfully Sully hadn't made a big deal of it. Calm and simple, that Jericho could cope with. People getting all gushy and emotional over things just freaked him out completely. He continued to fire again and again with the same methodical precision, capping the stragglers while Sully kept the range open until finally the stream of dead began to dry up. There had been more of them than Jericho had thought and he was glad of the spare ammo from the bags of the second horse.

During a lull, as they waited to see if anything else was moving, Jericho murmured to Sully. “We need to get a better look at that wreckage, back-track the worgan some if we can before any more shamblers mess up the trail. If there are more of them we need to know.” He frowned in consternation. It would make a frightening kind of sense for something big to be winding up whilst Andy Metro was gone from Haven. He found the thought to be disturbing.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

(was waiting on admin permission to mention bunkers)


Sully was not a man of many words. He never spoke unless he thought it was important. Thanking Jericho was important but once said, he was finished. There was no reason to say more. He noticed quite early in his experiences with Jericho that a look and a nod were often enough communication and he liked it that way.

This scene was not something new to Sully. There were now dead undead strewn about like bloody tinker toys or those little wooden monkeys his adopted father carved for him and stored in a little wooden barrel. You could never pull just one out because the arms were all tangled. This was what the scene before him reminded him of. Other than that, he had not thoughts on the matter. It was what his life was like and probably always would be.

He knew that when there was one worgen, there would be the rest of the pack to deal with. That is, unless they were very, very lucky. He checked his side arm and found that he was out of bullets. It wouldn’t do him any good against worgens anyway. “Let’s head to the west bunker, its closer than Haven and I need Dog Slayer if I’m going to have your six on this.” He stated curtly. He shrugged out of his flack jacket and left it to the desert floor. He would me more expolsed to the elements but it was better than having that smell all over him. His black shirt was skin tight so it would allow for ease of movement and keep him cool enough.

Sully began to jog in the direction of the bunker that he knew would hold the weapons and ammo they would need to take out a pack of worgens from a distance. You just didn’t run up on a worgen pack and ask them to please die for you. Trying to kill them up close was the same thing as doing just that. The bunker was not far away and Sully was not even winded when he got there. He turned to see if Jericho followed him. You never knew what Jericho was going to do or not do. Sully never based his actions on what others were going to do. It was nice to have someone have his six but Sully did what needed to be don’t whether he was alone or with backup.

Sully moved the nearly marker off the cleverly disguised metal hatch and opened it up. The air inside was damp and cool. He dropped down into the dark manmade cave and searched for the lantern inside. Once he had the lantern burning bright, he searched through the weapons for one that had the ability to takeout a supercharged undead Lycan. He found a VSF issue weapon that was designed to take out Lycans and a box of silver shells big enough to take out a charging Rhino. “Ready.” He said flatly.

[Jericho Greybear]

The lull stretched out. It seemed that they had cleared this group of shamblers as thoroughly as they were going to. If there were any more stragglers then they had scattered, wandering off in other directions without ever passing across Jericho's sights. Job done! He nodded his agreement to Sully with regards to his proposed modification to the plan. Sully was one of the most physically impressive Havenites that Jericho had ever known, but these were worgan they were talking about tracking and a man without an effective weapon was a dead man walking as surely as if he were a zombie.

Jericho watched as Sully jogged away. He would follow soon enough, but first there was scavenging to be done here. He climbed carefully down into the ravine, the stench was overpowering now and too thick in the air to breath properly. He grabbed a hold of the collar of Davies' jacket and hoisting the body behind him he scrambled back out of the death-pit. Pausing only to take a couple of deep breaths he began to methodically strip the body of all useful equipment. Most of Jericho's life had been spent fighting to keep Haven supplied with what they needed and if you locked him in an empty room he'd find a way to scavenge the lock.

He bundled up the salvage in a waxed tarp from the saddlebags along with Sully's discarded vest and his own jacket that the kid had messed up for him. Hopefully the tarp and bag would keep the smell to a minimum until they got back to Haven. Jericho stuffed the whole bundle back into the saddlebags and mounted up. Even a winded horse walked faster than a man and he was no Sully to go haring off on foot patrol. He turned the horse westward and set off after the now distant figure of Sully. He arrived at the bunker while Sully was still inside and took up a standard watch position over the bunker entrance.

“Sully,” he called out, alerting the other man to his presence. “Pick me out another standard load while you're in there. If we run into more shamblers I'm going to be low.” He tossed the saddlebag into the bunker entrance. “I'll pick that up on the way back.” he added. Lightening the horse's load was also a good idea. Jericho just hoped the horse lasted, he didn't fancy walking home. His mind was already racing ahead to tracking the worgan. Some part of him was itching to confront something dangerous. Sully's choice of weapon was a good one and this party was going to get loud if the guests turned up.

“We only have a couple of hours to do this if we are gonna get back to Haven before dark. Let's go.” Jericho would ride until they reached the wreckage, after that he was likely going to be on foot as they tracked the worgan. With any luck the trail would clear up once it left the area the shamblers had been in and they would be able to move faster. Regardless, Jericho had no doubt that he would be able to follow the trail wherever and to whatever it led.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

Sully heard the clippity-clop of the equine’s tired steps from inside the bunker. His instincts told him it was Jericho. He was glad it was Jericho who was around on this day because his slip into madness would not have been understood and overlooked as well by some of the other men. When the other soldier left with the girl, Jericho became Sully’s partner for the day. The militant training the protectors of Haven were subject to, taught them that you always had your partner’s back. He knew Jericho would follow. Who could resist a fight, especially when it came to the safety and wellbeing of the settlement?

Sully heard the request and turned back to the assortment of weaponry. He pictured Jericho in battle, which firearms he had seen him use in the past, the size of his hands, the way he held his weapon and selected on that he felt would be well balanced and fit Jericho’s style and anatomy. This would ensure deadly accuracy for he had witnessed Jericho’s talents first hand on many occasions. The stench coming from the bag soon engulfed the bunker and Sully had to make a hasty exit before the thick rank air inspired an upward heaving of the contents of his stomach. He grabbed a few more items and made a dash for the door. He handed Jericho his weapon on the way out along with the boxes of shells he had acquired for the piece. Another item he held in his hand was offered to Jericho, “Night vision goggles.” He tucked a second pair in his belt, “Just in case.”

The horse was spent. That was for certain. “You reckon maybe you should turn him loose so he can make his way back to Haven?” he pointed at the foam-slicked animal. These animals were especially bred to survive the desert but there was still only so much one could take. “If we backtrack to the decayed caravan, we should be able to pick up the trail. I grabbed a flare gun in case we need backup.” He patted the holster he affixed to his belt. It wouldn’t do them or Haven any good to get themselves killed. Sully didn’t have any family but he hoped to have one, someday.

[Jericho Greybear]

Jericho wasn't at all concerned or worried to be partnering Sully now. He'd seen enough patrollers and raiders completely lose it with far less provocation than Sully just had. Panic happened a lot, it was normal apparently. Jericho didn't understand why a lot of the time but then he didn't understand people when they weren't panicking either. Scared people were however more predictable. Sully had gotten past it so everything was good again. The one thing Jericho could not have forgiven would have been if Sully had dropped his weapon. You could not trust a man at your back who would drop his gun when faced with danger.

Sully had a good eye for weapons, that was one thing that Jericho knew about him at least. The big VSF weapon he had snagged for himself was a good choice for the task and he accepted the secondary weapon and extra rounds with a small smile, as it was pretty much exactly what he would have chosen himself. He diligently set about stowing the gear about his person in the best compromise between accessibility and portability, stashing the goggles where they were least likely to be damaged. He really, really didn't want to be out here after dark but what he wanted and what needed to be done rarely coincided or he wouldn't have been out here on patrol at all in the first place.

Another thing he knew about Sully was that he was going to have to work hard to keep up any kind of pace with him. The man was a damnable jack-rabbit when it came to covering ground. Jericho was no slouch himself, no-one on a patrol out from Haven could really be called that, but some were better than others. Jericho was good but where Sully was concerned he knew that he was out of his league. On the upside Sully had been out on foot patrol and gotten into a footrace with a worgan, whereas Jericho was still pretty fresh having been on horseback. Maybe he would be able to keep pace with the man after all.

He sighed as he looked the horse over again critically, the short trip to the bunker already had it in a lather again. Sully was right, Davies had damn near killed the beast catching him up, no way was the horse going to last another few hours with a rider. He stripped off the tack and tossed that into the bunker too. The horse may or may not make it back to Haven but there was no point risking losing any gear on it and stripping it down upped its chances of making it anyway. He gave the horse a stinging slap to get it moving off in the right direction and turned back to his partner for the rest of the patrol.

“OK, let's lock down here and move out.” Jericho left Sully to seal the bunker again while he set about obscuring the tracks from the horse. It was necessary for them to camouflage the area again and their activity around it. There were still scavengers and looters out there who were twisted and stupid enough to prey on their own kind and to try and rob or sell out to the fangers a stash like this. They both knew the drill and with no idle chit-chat it didn't take long at all before they were clear and could pick up the pace back to the wreckage of the wagon. Jericho let Sully take point if he wanted, having noted that he tended to anyway and being content to let him get on with it.

Approaching the site with caution it became apparent that the screaming child may have done them a service after all in drawing out the shamblers as there was a complete absence of locomotive corpses anywhere in the vicinity. Jericho did a quick search through the remains of the wagon but found nothing vitally useful or portable. Haven would have someone out to search and salvage the site properly tomorrow, their priority now was the worgan. He began to examine the area more carefully for tracks, it was hard to do because of all the shambler activity so he backtracked the wagon a short way and tried again.

What he found was not encouraging. The worgan had come in from behind the wagon and at considerable speed, probably reacting to the ruckous of the shamblers attacking it. The wagon hadn't been moving that fast at all though so they obviously didn't know it was behind them. The further back they followed the worse the scenario got. “The worgan was tracking them...” Jericho stated quietly but with surety. He did a rapid mental calculation based on the apparent speeds of the wagon and the worgan. “I'd say it picked them up about an hours jog that a way...” and he gestured off towards a distant and hazy rocky outcrop.

He looked at Sully again with that same slight tilt of his head, waiting to hear if his opinion differed.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

It didn’t take very much for the supply bunker to be locked down considering it was a steel door that was set inches below the surface with an uncomplicated camouflage expertly fashioned to appear as if it were a simple pale green sage brush bush. It was designed to withstand even the strongest of desert monsoons. The ultimate trick was clearing the area of their clumsy footprints that were impossible to disguise in the loose sandy topsoil of the hot Nevada desert.

Being that they were highly trained guardians of the rustic little fort called Haven, they knew exactly how to quickly disguise the area, clearing it of all but their scents. Sully scanned the immediate area and nodded approval with a soft baritone grunt when the necessary chore was completed. Jericho was higher ranking than the desert savvy superior human, so he took his simple order and carried it out. He ran slower than he normally would have because the only inhabitants of Haven, who could keep up with him, were the angels. I often wondered why that was so but the ever caring Admiral told him repeatedly not to worry about it. It just meant he was inherently strong.

As they approached the ramshackled caravan wagon, Sully climbed to the top to keep a steadfast lookout for Jericho as he searched the area for clues. He hesitantly climbed down from his place of optimum view when Jericho began to stray a little too far from him for his taste. Sully was fast and strong, but Jericho was a formidable tracker, much more skilled than he was and that was saying a lot. He listened to Jericho’s summarization of the situation and gave his own head somewhat of a tilt while looking back at him. He nodded in agreement with Jericho’s take one what went down. “An hour’s run for you, or for me?” he asked the other man. He was in no way being a smartass; his question was valid and understandable.

[Jericho Greybear]

“For me.” Jericho answered without hesitation, “...and setting a harder pace than I'd like at that.” The comment condensed a fair chunk of discussion in those few words. Jericho had already considered the urgency of the situation and the estimate he had given was the best time he could make and still be fit to get the job done when he got there. He could guess that Sully could cover the distance in fourty minutes, maybe as little as thirty, but he would be guessing and Jericho hated to guess. He trusted that Sully knew his own limits.

It did not even occur to him that Sully might be being anything but genuine with his question. Jericho could easily miss a facetious comment when he was thinking too hard and when he eventually realised he had been mocked his reaction was invariably explosive. But Sully's question was just simple logic, like asking “your left or my left?”. He hadn't partnered Sully often enough to have established a convention and he made a mental note to correct that for next time, always assuming there was going to be a next time.

He nodded to Sully. “You have point. Don't get too far ahead 'till we know what we are dealing with.” The need to set such a hard pace was going to affect Jericho's long range accuracy if he needed to suddenly provide cover fire for Sully. He checked the wind direction. The prevailing warm breeze had been steady throughout the day and if it held then it would keep them downwind and prevent their scents from advertising their approach should there be more worgan out there. No time like the present. Jericho slung his rifle and set off at a jog parallel to the wagon/worgan tracks.

Jericho steadily increased his pace as they settled into the run. As he was periodically forced to pace himself and slow down some he took that as an opportunity to check the tracks again to ensure they were still on course. He was glad that they had shed most of their gear back at the bunker, it was too damned hot for this to be anything but a miserable trek. If they were still out here after dark though he might start to regret leaving his jacket, worgan slime or no. It seemed to Jericho that the trail was veering somewhat away from the rock outcrop and was going to bypass it entirely.

The rocks loomed ominously ahead, now a little to their left. Though it would make the last part of the run slightly harder Jericho moved his rifle to a readier position. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about that hunk of rock.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

Sully set a slow pace, for him anyway. He knew Jericho could not keep up with him, very few in the encampment could. It wasn't because they were weak or inept, Sully was just faster and stronger. He didn't know why and he was kind-hearted enough to never rub it in anyone's face by showing off. Show offs were annoying and made him want to put them in their places. But, he never did unless the situation was real, like combat or rescue. There was never any reason to make someone feel inferior. The Admiral taught him that.

Jericho seemed to need to slow at intermittent intervals and Sully corrected his pace accordingly when needed. Jericho was a fine soldier and while Sully was stronger and faster, Jericho held skills that Sully didn't have. Tracking and strategic tactics were minor skills for Sully but Jericho seemed to perform those skills much more efficiently that Sully could. The pace had been high and the day had already been long as the sun began moving toward the horizon. Sully felt that familiar uneasiness that came just before the shakes. Now now...

Sully slowed his pace then stopped. He gave Jericho a knowing look. He had partnered with him enough to know that the sudden pale face and shaking hands meant he needed 30 seconds. He searched his pockets for the packets the medic had made up for him. He was not the only person in the camp to have this condition so the packets were made up daily and made readily available. With a relieved exhalation, he removed the envelop from the pocket of his trousers and fumbled with opening it. The contents, a mix of nuts, oats, seeds and dried fruit that were tossed with a sticky sweet mixture was easily poured into his mouth from the packet. He chewed carefully but with haste, working to get it down fast. He had no choice but to take a swallow of water or two to wash it down. Within seconds the shaking stopped and his color came back.

The medics had been baffled that more than one of the inhabitants of Haven had this condition of hypoglycemia and he had been called in to have his blood drawn on many occasions. They never found anything other than the determination that he and some others burned more calories and used up the sugars in their blood faster than others. Most of the time the mixture to raise his sugar worked like magic. There was however, some occasions where this did not help fast enough and he would pass out. For that reason he kept a syringe in his pocket with a glucose shot, just in case he needed it. Today was not one of those days.

Sully felt a breeze on his face with an almost undetectable scent mixed with the desert fragrance. Any normal human would not have detected it but Sully did and he turned to look. The slightest of movement about 100 meters away lead Sully to grab Jericho's wrist and drop to all fours, pulling Jericho down with him. He pressed his finger to his lips then let his eyes point the way to the furry back of a Worgan showing over the top of a rocky hill. It had not spotted them but as they were all taught in training, where there was one Worgan there was almost certainly more. It was a good thing they had stopped running or they might have alerted the beast before they were ready to dispatch it.

[Jericho Greybear]

Jericho was pushing himself hard. It wasn't that he was trying to compete with Sully; that would have been a pointless exercise anyway. The other man wasn't even looking slightly winded despite his longer patrol and earlier exertions. Jericho was proud but he wasn't stupid and doing himself an injury by being an ass-hole out here wasn't a sensible survival tactic. No, it was the urgency of the situation that had him pushing himself as far as he dared.

He was going to have to pay for this run tomorrow, he knew for certain, in aching muscles and depleted energy reserves, but that was what 'reserves' were for. Too many raiders, in Jericho's opinion played things too safe, never stretched themselves, and when they needed those final reserves they found they had gone soft. Jericho was always pushing himself because whatever he did, whatever he achieved, alone in the dark he always knew it was not good enough.

When Sully quite suddenly began to slow down, Jericho immediately realised what the issue was. It seemed to be becoming more common in Haven that some people just couldn't manage all day on a standard food ration. Jericho could imagine it becoming a future supply problem if it weren't for the fact that people like Sully pulled their weight twice over. He slowed to a stop to give Sully a moment to deal with it, glad of the brief respite himself.

Jericho kept a sharp lookout whilst Sully washed down the 'bunny-treats' as some of the younger havenites had taken to calling the little energy snacks the medics dished out. He knew a few had tried to fake 'the shakes' in order to snag one of the sweet little energy boosters but the medics were not that gullible. Sully's sudden movement had Jericho turning toward the threat when he was grabbed and pulled to the ground. Training kicked in and he just went with it, trusting his partner to have a reason for the move.

True to form it was a hell of a reason.

Jericho groaned inwardly. 100 meters was no range at all when dealing with a worgan. One of the rabid beasts could cover that distance in under two seconds. That wasn't a lot of time to prepare for a counter-attack. They would each get one aimed shot, which admittedly at this range was an easy kill, but then anything that was still standing would be bearing down on them like a bullet train. Jericho was wishing he still had the telescope from his saddlebag as he peered over at where Sully was looking; he had to get a better idea on numbers before they did anything irrevocable.

He zeroed in quickly on the bulky shape that Sully had spotted; the man must have had a sixth sense to have caught on to its presence before it rose above the rocks. It was a big brute, even for a worgan, and the way it was moving about... yep, there was the second one, no clear shot right now though. This was not a good situation. They would need precise timing to hit both simultaneously or one of them would be trying to shoot at a rapidly moving target. Jericho began to scan around the area and his stomach sank.

He couldn't see it yet but everything about the lay of the land and the way they moved and reacted screamed at Jericho that there were three... Silently he raised three fingers to Sully, hoping the other man was going to contradict him but knowing in his gut that he was right about this. Assuming two clean kills they were going to be taking on the last, unseen, worgan at close to point blank range.

[Sullivan Maxfield]

Sully gulped back the urge to retreat and go get backup from Haven. He knew it was an option but they were losing daylight and by the time they returned it could be too late. After dark there was a possibility of slags, even if the closest nest was up North, near the Utahmuerto border. It was still too close for comfort.

Sullys eyes scanned the horizon, and the area between. Another sight caused him to freeze. He tapped Jericho's arm with the back of his hand then pointed at the dust trail. 3 Black electric/solar SUV's prattled along a well used double trail used by caravans. They were on a collision course with the Worgens. He grinned and face-palmed as the worgens suddenly lifted their heads, looking toward the traveling VSF officers.

Sully couldn't help but wonder what they were doing out here. Was it a weapons shipment from the nearby abandoned military base? They would find out soon enough. The worgens were already at a dead run, flying towards the moving targets that so nicely delivered themselves into the mouth of the lion.

The three beelined for the first vehicle in the caravan, thus blocking the other two, making them stop. The top was ripped off the vehicle and the driver torn in two before he even had a chance to react. The passenger was dispatched almost as quickly but much more painfully. Sully was not sure if Jericho could hear it but he winced at the screams of pain coming from the SUV.

By the time the other VSF officers poured from their vehicles, three of the four men in the first vehicle were dead and one was screaming, practically torn in half. Three bullets from a gun Sully had a hard-on for were fired into the biggest of the worgens, taking it out mercilessly. But the biggest may have been more powerful but the two smaller ones were faster. Two more vampires went down, their helmets torn off allowing the sun to turn them into something that looked like black, man-shaped candles. Sully made a disgusted face and swallowed back the rising bile in his gut. He could not afford to puke, not with his sugar levels low.

Everything happened in a blur. Before he knew it, there was one worgen and a Techa left. He knew it was a Techa because his helmet was off and he was not burning up. The worgen lept at him and tore into his neck at the same time another gun was fired. The worgen slumped over the body.

Sully scanned the area again, there was dead silence. There were no more worgens, no zombies, not even a bird. It was unsettling how quiet it was. He knew it would not be long before life began again and every bad thing in the area would come to investigate the noise. He was on his feet and running across the desert towards the vehicles before he even knew he was going to go there. If there were new weapons in there, the high tech ones the VSF used, he was going to get them. They could not afford to lose the chance to aquire them so he needed to move fast.

He covered the distance so quickly, he never realized he had run faster than he ever had. Anyone that saw him sprint that way might have thought it was just a little too supernatural for their taste. He quickly checked the VSF officers. The wooden knife he carried on his belt made short work of those who might still be moving and pulling off helmets did the rest, igniting them from the top. He noticed they kind of resembled giant flares, laying there on the ground as flames shot out of the tops of their armor suits. Those would come in handy as well. It was a good thing that a vampires spontaneous combustion didn't burn the environment around them, the suits would survive the vampire's death.

SUlly then moved to the last officer to make sure he was dead. The wide eyed officer was barely a man and still alive but he was not going to make it. He was bleeding out. Sully merely got on one knee, held his hand over his mouth and pinched his nose until he stopped twitching.

Now for the booty...

Sully didn't notice about 200 meters away, the commotion had alerted a large group of shamblers and they were slowly making their way in his direction. He was busy. As he ran from SUV to SUV opening the backs of them. He nearly shouted for joy as he found that not only were there weapons, but sorely needed medical supplies, blankets and boots. He looked around for the voice that was hissing at him to hurry. He looked up to see Jericho finally made it there. "Jackpot!" he exclaimed in a loud whisper. "Help me grab a couple crates of guns, we can drive this one home."