Yumi sighed angrily, glaring at Chase with a look of disappointment. She shook her head, not having the words to truly express how she felt in its fullest. "Look, Chase, I know that you and Marshall are close, but my decision to declare him AWOL for the moment was purely based on the facts at hand."

Chase almost immediately scoffed. "That's bullshit, Yumi. You know Marshall didn't go fully AWOL."

"And yet he's not here, is he? Did he alert anyone about this?"

Chase laughed. "Pretty sure getting my ass knocked out counts, huh?"

"No, it doesn't." There was a certain venom in Yumi's voice now, her anger obvious. "In fact, that doesn't help his case at all. Knocking out my chief protector, stealing a rifle and a handgun, ammunition, which may I remind you we are running short on at the moment, and on top of all of that, he was only one of the two medical experts we have. So tell me Chase, does it sound like Marshall had any intent of not going fully AWOL?"

Chase growled and threw his hands up in frustration, knowing Yumi was going off of what she knew and how the situation at hand looked, and it didn't look great for Marshall.

"But let me guess, he ran off to look for Everst after she didn't come back." It was a simple statement, not a question. Yumi knew better.

"So why didn't you tell that to everyone else?"

Yumi sighed and stood up. "Well, he's not here to tell us that, is he? For all we know, he could've lied to you and now could be telling some gang of raiders and looters when, where, and how to take us all out and what to hit first. You have to consider the most likely possibilities at times like these."

Chase growled again. "Bullshit, Yumi."

Yumi reached out and grabbed Chase's collar, pulling him close. "Curse me one more time, Chase. I swear to whatever god that you believe in you'll regret it." She threw him back into a chair. Chase didn't try and bother to get up.

Yumi sighed heavily. "Look, if Marshall's not back in a week, I'm declaring him, fully and officially, AWOL." She held up a hand as Chase began to protest. "I understand that it may take him longer than that, I know. But this is on him, and what he did was unacceptable. He has a week." Yumi said no more on the matter. She took a breath before changing the subject. "So, how's Skye? Haven't been able to talk to her recently."

Chase was still fuming, but found the change of topic, while out of nowhere, slightly refreshing. "She's fine. The whole Marshall set her off, though."

Yumi chuckled. "Knowing Skye, I'm not surprised. She's awfully caring about her loved ones."

"You say that like it's a bad thing, Yumi."

Yumi smiled sadly. "Well, sometimes it can be." It was clear she was referencing Marshall and Everest.

Chase sighed and stood up. "I'm sure he'll be fine. I know Marshall. He's smart enough to not get himself killed."

Yumi gave Chase a grim expression. "But was Everest?"

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"I don't trust him, Sarge." Ramirez sat in the passenger seat, keeping a watchful eye on the road while she talked. "I know he's hiding something."

"Aye, that's for sure, but I'm positive we'll find out eventually. Plus, at least we know that he's part of a survivor enclave." Scott turned right at Main Street, nudging a broken down Honda Civic to the side of the road as he did.

"How do you know this?"

"Sure, he did ask for very specific directions to the hospital, but then you have to consider the fact that everyone is looking for medical supplies nowadays. Then add the whole police station thing. Only thing there is us and our stash of weapons and ammo."

Rameriz hummed. "So how does that give him away as being part of a survivor group?"

Scott sighed. "Details, my love, details. Did you not notice the look on his face?"

Ramirez scoffed. "He looked desperate, like all of us are. So what?"

"Ah, but you miss the point. This wasn't just your usual 'I need things just to survive' look. One thing you should have learned in training is reading faces. He's looking for supplies for a larger group, I'm sure of it."

Ramirez shook her head. "If you say so, Sarge."

"I do. Hell, I'll bet an MRE on it."

Meanwhile, Ethan and Marshall rode in the back of the truck in complete silence. The young man kept fidgeting with his shotgun, clicking the safety on and off, unloading and reloading a shell. Marshall found it slightly annoying, but after a while he was able to successfully ignore it.

After a while of silence, since the cab was closed and Marshall couldn't hear the other two riders in the vehicle, Marshall turned toward the young man, who was fidgeting with his gun.

"You okay kid?"

Ethan almost leaped out of his seat, seeming to have forgotten that Marshall was even there. He swore quietly, planting himself firmly back into his seat. He shook his head. "No, not really." Marshall had to lean forward to hear him.

"Why's that?" Marshall found that he was talking to this near adult like he would to his adopted son, the way a caring father would talk to his ten year old. Curious, he thought.

Ethan chuckled, though not in a humorous way. "Not sure why I'd tell you, stranger." Marshall had to admit, that was a good point. But, the EMT learned an important lesson before the shit came down. Getting information out of someone was easy, especially if you offered them something in return.

"Fair enough." Marshall nodded his head as he said this. "I noticed your dad's a bit hard on you." Slowly but surely, it would all come out.

The young boy scoffed, his fidgety and uneasy state all but gone. "And what are you, my uncle or some shit? If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly your fucking ten year old who just lost his first Little League game." He racked the shotgun. "I don't care who the fuck you are, but we-" he pointed at Marshall, "don't know each other, and I'll be damned if I tell some random guy with a damn death wish my personal feelings."

Marshall sat back, finding the sudden change of emotion slightly concerning. Apparently, being out in the shit had a lot more of an impact on people than he first thought. He also realized at that same moment that Yumi was going to be pissed when he came back. Jesus, why hadn't he thought of that before?

The truck suddenly swerved, throwing both Marshall and Ethan out of their seats onto the floor. The sound of bullets ricocheting off of the heavily armored shell of the vehicle started, and with a fierce tempo. Full-auto guns, no doubt. The makeshift partition that separated the cab and rear of the vehicle burst open. Scott rushed in, Rameriz coming in right after him.

"Marauder ambush." Scott's voice was calm and even, cool and refined. Rameriz popped open a hatch on the roof, grabbing her machine gun as a hidden shield flipped up. She clambered up a small step ladder that had also come down when she threw the release lever on the hatch. Two seconds later, her gun began barking as she expended rounds.

"Oi, you." Scott pointed at Marshall. "Can you shoot?" Marshall nodded. Scott returned the gesture. "Good. Cause we have an issue."

"No shit." Marshall's thoughts echoed clearly. He mentally sighed. "First a horde, now this."

Scott threw the back door of the truck open, enemy fire immediately starting to hit it. Marshall followed him out, Ethan trailing close behind. Bullets zipped past their heads as they ran to find cover and hopefully eliminate the enemy as quickly as possible.

Marshall peeked around the car he was behind. The marauders, Scott had called them, seemed to be more focused on the ex-military man. Marshall saw at least four of them, only to see two of them cut down by machine gun fire and a well placed AK shot. The third was hit by a few shotgun pellets shredding through his leg. He screamed as he went down. Scott pulled a fragmentation grenade from his vest, tossing it behind a car.

Three more marauders went down behind the car, screaming as they died. Rameriz's machine gun fired a few more quick bursts, then stopped firing. Scott popped up from behind his car, scanning the area. One of the persons who had survived the grenade blast was crawling out from their cover, their leg shredded into ribbons from the shrapnel. A 7.62 bullet to the head cured their suffering. Ethan came out next, copying his father and sweeping the area, shotgun ready. Marshall followed suit, covering their rear, though the machine gun was probably enough, he thought later.

The marauder that Ethan had shot was still groaning on the ground, clutching his leg. When he saw them starting to walk over, he raised a pistol at them, only to have it knocked out of his hands by Ethan rushing forward. The young boy then backed off as his father approached.

Scott bent down, grabbing the man's collar and pulling him close. 'Who the hell is your leader?' His voice practically dripped with venom. The man offered no proper answer, instead spitting in Scott's face.

Scott sighed as he wiped off the saliva and blood. from his face. He stood up, unholstering his Desert Eagle. The man on the ground growled at the ex-Ranger before a .50AE hollow point ripped through his head. What was left of it flopped pathetically.

Marshall sighed internally. What hope he had of finding Everest was becoming smaller and smaller the longer he was outside Adventure Bay.