-All Standard and Previously stated repetitive disclaimers apply. AKA. Don't be naughty and steal!

Reviews: Please and Thank you. As many have said, it means a lot, not only to my ego, but it truly helps me improve my writing skills. And at the moment, I am entering a different spectrum in the story, and therefore it has changed my writing style a bit, and am eager to hear your opinions and advice.

A/N: Hello readers, I hope everyone had a great christmas and HAPPY New Year. I came home from university for the break, and worked the majority. In my spare time I did write this chapter, sorry it took this long for an update, but this have been busy with exams, then family stuff, then the Internet decided not to grace me with a steady connection for like...a week. Enjoy and please let me know what you think.

Chapter 49

Ah! I forgot to mention at the closing of my last entry, the last concluding stops of my before and after tour. This is the unfortunate disadvantage of writing with a pen and paper, unlike on the computer, I can simply add and edit out my entries, instead, I have encroach on your patience, if you will so indulge me?

We also have two metal framed greenhouses That we salvaged from a Canadian Tire cargo box that had stopped on the tracks. That score was like Christmas, as in addition to Canadian tire goods like tools and household items, there was also a whole other cargo box full of clothes that had been destined for Old Navy, Walmart, The Gap, and Winners, according to the box labels anyway. I don't want to go too into detail, but sufficed to say, everyone got a lot of new clothes that year.

So anyway, these greenhouses serve as more garden space. Christine and her teenage granddaughter use their ample green thumbs year round to foster the growth of herbs and spices, like chives, garlic, parsley, oregano, basil, and loads of other shit to keep our meals interesting.

There is also of course, the "Pit", which I have already gone into detail on with my previous tale of incarceration. It took forever to finish, and the roof leaks in the rainy season, but thanks to a cache of mixing concrete and the determination of an entire community pitching in to help, it was finally completed. It was some weeks into our stay that the thought of ever needing such a place even crossed our minds. But indeed it became obvious as time wore on, that though we were far removed from the world, we were not far enough.

It is not as frequent, or as in bigger numbers as it is on the outside. We are lucky that the massive roving hordes have never discovered our haven, but occasionally a small group will make it's way up. Sometimes drawn by chasing our raiding trucks, or catching a fleeting smell on the air as it shambles on it's way. They do come, but in numbers that thankfully, we can usually manage.

Anyway, getting back to business. So, we got into touch with this group and haggled the price. In the end it was a bit more pricey then we had all anticipated. The eventual agreement covered a payment of two trunks full of fresh vegetables from our garden. Kerosene lamps and fuel. But then, even more pricey, a CB radio, twenty-five liters of gasoline, and twenty vials of incelin. The last three were all items we had to taken out of our personal reserves, as we usually don't offer those specialty items as trade goods. We knew they were playing us, but the fact was we needed that generator. To us, it was almost beyond any price.

So, a date was set, and our team made the journey, the Alpha team, the "Untouchable" team, myself, Kirren, Stan, Ben, Julie, and Thor (who simply decided to tag along this time, big oaf never really likes it when I am out of sight). Everyone was nervous, no one had been out that far from the Sanctuary since Neil had set out to Vernon to see if his two step-brothers were still alive. No one had heard from him since, and that had been over three weeks ago.

Back in the day, back in normal times that is, getting to Winfield would be about an hour and a bit trip, but these of course were not normal times, and since Winfield is so close to Kelowna, we took every precaution, even taking the back roads to this warehouse, avoiding the highways and coming down a forestry service road. This route was the best one we could find, but we still have to get through three suburban neighborhood areas as we came down from the hills to get to the place. The first one was predictable, same with the second one. They were wandering around aimlessly, shambling on the wet grass and mud as a light autumn rain showered down. As we turned the corner, zipping in between abandoned cars and other wreckage, their heads turned towards us, almost in unison, and began running towards us. I remember wondering how long it had been since they had even seen fresh prey.

I was in the passenger seat as Kirren drove. Stan was perched in the truck box, taking his turn out sniping, as Thor was in the truck behind us, with Julie driving, and Ben behind her. Aiming leisurely I brought down five that were coming at us from the side, letting Stan take out the majority. Watching with a snide smirk as our cow-scoops plowed through them like a knife does to soft butter. This was Joe's brilliant idea I must add. Which these, plows of sorts, our truck stay safer. This way the undead don't damage the front end of the truck, or the windshield too much. Usually they are flung to both sides if they are coming at us from the front. In addition, almost all of our raiding trucks have makeshift bars on the side windows to discourage a rambunctious fist from breaking in. It works very well, all I have to do to shoot is roll down the window and shoot between the bars.

The third neighborhood however struck me as ominous, right as we entered. The whole neighborhood was deserted. A few faded, yellowing signs were still propped in the upper windows. Proclaiming: "Alive inside", or other such slogans. But their story's ending was clear, the doors and ground level windows were smashed in. The wispy tatters of curtains fluttered weakly in the rainy breeze, and the whispering, eerie groans of rusty hinges bending with the wind seemed loud in the silence.

I popped my gum with a snap and eyed Kirren as I bent to reload, we shared a look, but continued driving forward. An empty neighborhood was strange and so far from the ordinary that it set my nerves on edge even more. I pressed the button on my mike for my radio ear-piece. "Look sharp everyone." I began, "Something stinks around here, and it certainly isn't the company." I finished. "Or lack thereof!" Julie piped in, her voice barely audible over the wailing warble of the Beatles, "Cry baby cry," as it played in the background.

Eventually we were in sight of the back gate of this warehouse. Even from this distance I could see people running back and forth behind the fencing. Now, I have to tell you, this place was putrid. We were over twenty meters away when the smell hit me. I pulled my handkerchief, that was tied around my neck, to keep the sweat to a minimum, up over my nose, trying to vain to muffle the stench. It was enough to gag a maggot.

We slowed to a crawl as I cocked the shotgun, and eased open the snaps of my side arm as I did so, ready for anything. After surveying what I could unaided, I lifted up my sunglasses and peered though the binoculars. What I saw disturbed me even further. The warehouse has enforced there gated fence with sheet metal, barricades and barbed wire. They had guards, over ten milling around the base of the fence, and four on the roof. These guys were no easy targets, they knew what they were doing. The four on the roof were in stationary sniper positions, while the groundlings were split into two groups of five, guarding both sides of the gate. I expect, from the amount of people we actually later saw in the warehouse, that there was only a skeleton crew guarding the 'front' entrance.

The reason for the abominable stench also became apparent. It was the smell of decay, and half-burnt human flesh. A large pile of bodies fitfully smoked in the rain, not 5 meters ahead of us. And still they added to the pile as we crawled by, two men in pure black clothes, face-shields tipped up, swung another limp body into the pile. As we went by, I couldn't help but look. In every face, not yet ruined by the fire, their eyes lay open, and clear, not clouded in the way they always do before they turn. We came so close, that I glimpsed the dull green iris' of a young man, the blood still fresh as it dribbled slowly from a neatly made hole in his temple, his eyes spoke of desperation. It made me shiver.

The men that had disposed of the corpse had quickly retreated to the safety of a burnt out vehicle, their guns not so discretely pointed in our direction, same as the ones inside the gate. This we understood, it was simply operational prudence.

We came to a stop at the gate, and we quickly surrounded by the armed men, who trickled rapidly out the front gate, clicking the safety off there weapons as they did. A man, with a band of red cloth tied on his right forearm came forward, his gun still aimed at both our vehicles.

"We are here to trade for the generator." Kirren spoke, one hand up in a peaceful gesture, but the other, inside the car, fondled his pistol. "We expected you hours ago. It is almost dark." The man replied, his voice dripping with disdain and distrust as under his face-shield, his eyes swept over us.

"Alright, get your people out of the trucks, we walk from here." He barked, turning his heel and marching back to the gate.

"Not excately the friendly sort." I commented to Kirren as I unbuckled my seat belt. "Stay sharp, this doesn't seem right." He replied. I rolled my eyes at the obviousness of the statement.

"Move it!" A guard snapped, rapping on my window with his rifle. I opened the door, and jumped down, almost falling into the guard as I did so. "Hey buddy, a little space here. We are the ones trading with you. Got it?" I snapped, my edginess and unexplainable sense of distaste for these men showing through. But to my credit, the dog backed off, and instead, tailed me as I walked up to the others, taking my place at Kirren's side as we walked the distance to the gate.

Thor pushed up between us, his hand was cautionary at the small of my back. "What do you think you are doing short-stop?" (His pet name for me) He whispered. "I doubt it is wise to pissed off the assholes with the guns." He continued. "Oh stuff it, you know this place is off." I countered back. "Besides, he was close enough to hump my leg." I finished, spitting on the ashy turf for emphasis. Thor half grunted in response, falling back to help the others with the supplies we brought for the exchange.

The gate doors were locked behind us, and we stopped near the buildings enforced doors. As I surveyed the area, it became apparent that they had recently ended substantial sized incursion. There was two men repairing part of the gate, and others re-stacking sandbag platform mounds, in which to shoot from in case of an invasion. And still others stringing out fresh barbed wire around the perimeter of the the building and gate area.

"What happened here." Kirren asked the one in charge, eying a spot of fresh blood in the white pavement as he spoke. "Some of the Stiffs got in, runners. We weren't prepared for runners." He grunted in reply, as he eyed the door of the building, as if willing it to open."Wait here. He will be out to deal with you shortly." He replied, then disappeared around the side of the building without another word.

The remaining guards fanned out around us as we waited, their gaze was unwaveringly piercing. Almost indecently eying us, as if we were the aliens. I stood beside Kirren as they shifted around as. They surrounded us at all sides, their weapons at rest, but still out, the message was clear: 'Don't fuck with us.'

Finally the metal door screeched open and a large, yet not overbearing man stepped out. The guard nearest the door whispered in her ear, and he grunted in response. Outwardly, the man was a disappointment. Food stains spotted his shirt, which under all the caked on filth and grimy could have been white, but came out a dark gray. A ragged black beard, spotted with old and new scars, and his untrimmed nails did not improve this impression.

But yet, even so, his mere presence demanded a bearing of respect. It was apparent that he was the leader here. The gun he held in his hand was an old model, and it was quickly passed to an underlying as he wiped his hands on his jeans, before extending his hand towards Kirren, a half smile tugging on his lips.

It wasn't till Kirren took his hand in a shake that the man actually spoke. "Welcome. Sorry about the wait folks. I had some management issues to deal with. But my god, it is good to see other people..." He trailed off, his eyes flickering over our shoulders, eying the rest of us.

"It is understandable, considering the times." Kirren allowed guardedly, after they exchanged names. "You seem well outfitted." The man commented, eying our weapons and the vehicles parked outside the gates. "Maybe we should have struck a harder bargain." He continued, teeth bared in a half-smile that revealed a number of missing teeth.

"You struck a hard enough bargain, friend." I commented loosely, peeling off my handkerchief, and hat, shaking out my hair, the dark curls damp, but still springing around my face as I moved. "You basically emptied our stores as it is."

His eyes widened, and around us, the guards shifted and exchanged looks. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Julie pull down her handkerchief as well, her face frowning with stress and worry.

"Ashley, my second in command you might put it." Kirren offered in introduction as I extended my hand. "A pleasure." He commented, still eying as me as he took my hand with both of his. "You will have to forgive us. We are no used to seeing women, and women active on the outside." He paused, and turned towards Kirren. "You must have many women to take such a risk." He finished, the tone in his voice hard, and demeaning.

I yanked my hand from his tightening grip. "Excuse me?!" I all but spat...