When the Man Comes Around: Survive? Yeah, we survived the apparent end of the world. But, there's a lot more to surviving than just staying alive. When the world tries to take a bite out of you, sometimes you have to fight back. And you have to fight back with everything you have.

Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any ownership to any of the characters that may be recognized throughout this story. Several characters from the Resident Evil Universe are portrayed in this story, but they are in no way the main characters. However, the storyline does borrow from concepts presented in the Capcom creations, so please do not sue me! In addition, Kurt Morgan is a creation of a good friend of mine; I'm merely borrowing him.

Rating: This story is rated M+ for Mature Audiences only. Adult content including coarse language and a great deal of violence and gore. Please do not read if you are uncomfortable with zombie-related things!

"Never explain – your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway." - Elbert Hubbard

Chapter Five

(Natalie)

When I opened my eyes, I was greeted by the sight of oddly familiar black eyes staring back at me. A scream bellowed in my gut, but I squashed it as I blinked, gathering my senses. His expression was, as usual, completely neutral.

"Ranger?" I managed, mouth dry and lips sticking together.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me upwards, sitting me on my feet before I could even comprehend that I was moving. I staggered slightly, falling against him with hands splayed across his chest before I managed to regain my footing.

"What happened?" he asked quietly as I took a step away, raising my hand to the back of my head.

My head was throbbing, but so was my back - and my hand? What the fuck had happened? After a moment, it came back to me and I fought the urge to snarl as I glanced around, surprised to find that I was standing in the bar area. "I was checking out a room and that asshole tried to nail me from behind. There was a woman. Where is she?" I glanced up at Ranger, eyes narrowed. "She was cuffed to the bed."

His head shook the slightest bit and dread welled in my gut. Although he wasn't the most expressive guy in the world, Ranger managed to say a lot with so little. The woman was gone or dead - or both.

"What happened to Greeds?"

He lifted a brow at that and his lips quirked. It wasn't a smile, but it was probably as close as the man could get. "Interesting story, that. Come on, need to introduce you to some people." Without a word, he turned on his heel, leading the way out of the pub, down the steps, and into the night air.

I felt dizzy and nauseous as I stumbled out behind him, nearly crashing into him before I regained my footing. The roar of an engine caused me to lift my head and my jaw dropped at the sight of a black Hummer, outfitted with barbed wire and the like, sitting near the pick-up.

"The fuck?"

A dark-haired man appeared out of the shadows, dressed in dark blue cargo pants, a vest, and armed to the teeth. There was a scar across his right eye that made him look almost intriguing. Otherwise, he just gave me the creeps.

"You must be Natalie." He held out his gloved hand and I eyed it for a moment before shaking it, quickly retracting my hand and resting it on the butt of my Colt. I suddenly didn't care if he and Ranger were buddies - there was something off about the man. "Sorry to hear Greeds gave you trouble. We weren't aware that he was failing in his duties until recently."

"We?" I repeated, lifting a brow doubtfully. "What duties? Is there a fucking guild of assholes that oversees the Merchants? Do you give them tips on price gauging and assholery?"

"Enough." Ranger's voice was calm and quiet, but it was enough to send a shiver racing down my spine. He took a single step toward the black Hummer and opened up the rear passenger door, black eyes on me. "Get in."

Defiant, I glared up at him, hand still hovering over the butt of the Colt. "Why? What's going on, Ranger?"

"Fred's heading back to the safehouse," he answered softly, lips barely moving. "Get in, Nat. Now."

Maybe it was his tone, or maybe it was the way my body went gooey at the way he said my name. Either way, I was surprised when I slowly ambled up to the Hummer and clambered into the back, blinking when I realized that there was a man already inside. "Hello," I muttered, scooting away from him as Ranger shut the door.

The interior of the Hummer was dark, but I could still make out the planes of his face. It was a nice face, a face that was a little rugged and worn and clearly hadn't seen a razor in awhile, but it was a nice face. His nose was a little crooked and his eyes were dark and calculating - a lot like Ranger's. Oddly enough, he was dressed a lot like the man I'd just met, but I didn't get a chance to question why as Ranger and his new friend climbed into the Hummer, Ranger riding shotgun.

The Hummer rolled forward easily, the headlights off as it eased out of the small parking lot and onto the street. For a moment, my imagination got the best of me. I pictured the three men cackling as they threw me to the zombies, as they used me for bait or distraction. Once the episode passed, I realized the man next to me was staring at me.

"You must be Natalie."

Jeez, I thought to myself, glaring at the back of Ranger's head. I'm fucking popular tonight. "And you must be the fucking Easter Bunny."

He laughed, the sound warm and oddly alluring. "Close, but no. I'm Kurt, Kurt Morgan." To my relief, he didn't offer me his hand. I wasn't in the mood for anymore hand-shaking. "We've been trying to get in contact with your group for months now. You don't stay in one place for long, do you?"

"It's safer to stay on the move." Everyone knew that. The longer you stayed in one place, the more likely you were to attract attention from the undead. Nobody was sure, but it certainly seemed like they had the uncanny ability to literally sniff out a live meal. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"Sure thing, babe." He smirked at me and I groaned as I heard a familiar grunting sound from outside of the vehicle. I peered out the dark window and barely made out the form of a zombie as it reached blindly toward the vehicle, losing an arm to the barbed wire in the process. "You've heard of the Sanctuaries?"

My stomach clenched as my head whipped to the side. I glared at the man, ignoring my racing heart, and wondered why it suddenly felt so cold in the Hummer. "They're just rumors."

"Most, yes," he agreed, nodding slightly. "The government struggled to get Sanctuaries organized, but nearly thirteen were prepared and ready within two weeks of the initial infection. Unfortunately, the majority of the facilities were lost within months. Months passed in virtual radio silence, so we've been out of contact. I'm from Whiskey Outpost."

Eyes wide, I stared at him, head tilted to the side. "Are you shitting me? Next you're going to tell me you've been hanging out with Elvis, JFK, and Tupac, right?" I twisted in the seat and looked out the window, fighting the temptation to smack Ranger in the back of the head. He clearly needed a wake up call. "Fucking idiots, the lot of you."

"We ran into what was left of your other group a month ago," Morgan continued, his voice calm and calculated. "Gregori informed us that they were to meet with your group in, well, just a few days. And gave us a location. We've been patrolling the vicinity via the air for -"

"Now I know you're full of shit." Abruptly, I twisted in the seat and glared at the man, a snarl on my face. "The birds rule the sky now, dickhead. There hasn't been anything in the sky in months."

"That's where you're wrong, Nat." He seemed to like the way my eyes narrowed at his casual use of my name. "You're not very trusting. It's a good quality. Stop here for a moment, Smith." The Hummer rolled to a halt and I recoiled when Morgan shifted on the seat, knee nearly brushing mine. "The Whiskey Outpost is secure and nearly self-sufficient. As of this moment, we house just over two hundred people, but the numbers are slowly climbing daily. Several technicians found their way to us in recent months, and we recently regained use of long-range radios and have borrowed several satellites. To my knowledge, we are one of three Sanctuaries left in the known US - though we haven't been able to make contact with anyone outside of Mexico."

It sounded impressive, but I'd learned a long time ago that impressive didn't necessarily mean truthful. Men were known to lie - everyone lied. I lied every day, who the hell didn't?

But, there was something about the man's eyes that seemed to see right through me. I didn't often falter, but I found myself shifting awkwardly on the seat, half-tempted to turn away - not that I wanted to show anyone, especially Kurt Morgan, any sort of weakness.

"Say I believe you," I murmured, hearing the driver, Smith, inhale sharply. "And I guess there's really not much of a reason to not believe you. Sure, we have supplies, but we're no better than any of the other roamer groups out there. So, say I believe you. How did you know where to find us tonight?"

"Saw a plane overhead," Ranger answered for him. "Saw it before I heard it. Took a chance and lit a flare - Hummer came barreling up ten minutes later." He was silent for a moment and a muscle in my jaw twitched. "They explained the situation and I went upstairs to check on you."

"So, just how the fuck long was I up there alone on the floor? No, you know what? I don't care." I did care. I just didn't want to know how unimportant I was on Ranger's list. Probably just after check for ticks and somewhere before buy a lottery ticket. "We're going to Whiskey Outpost then?"

"Provided the group agrees," Morgan answered for him. "We're not here to cart people off for our cause - not at all, Nat." I gritted my teeth in response, hating how familiar and at ease he sounded with my name rolling off of his lips. "We have supplies, even our own source of food and water, and enough space for everyone."

I immediately thought of Jo and pictured her living in safety, sleeping somewhere where she didn't have to wear Kevlar, where she wasn't toting around a gun at the age of six. My stomach clenched tightly and I chewed on my lip, wishing I could read Ranger's thoughts. "You said something about a plane."

"There's an Air Force base about eight klicks from the Outpost that has pretty large fuel reserves. We've got a dozen trained pilots - four of whom served in the Forces. We conserve our fuel, and mainly use the biplanes for search and rescue or for hauling supplies. Unfortunately, our only trained helicopter pilot went down a few weeks ago, so our choppers are useless. We were using a Sikorsky Pave Hawk, but -"

"Seriously?" I perked up a bit, eyes narrowed. "You've got a Pave Hawk? That's a search and rescue helicopter. Huh." I leaned back against the door and ran my fingers through my hair. I felt a little gritty and sore from my escapade with Greeds earlier, but I was still functioning - always a good sign.

"And a few Black Hawks," he added, causing my eyes to widen. "We've agreed to transport your people and your supplies via the airstrip three klicks from here, Nat. In exchange for your cooperation."

"See! I knew there was some shit you weren't telling me. Fuck, Ranger." I leaned forward and was about to grab him by the back of his vest when he spun around in the seat, beady black eyes glaring at me. "You're fucking with me, right?"

"They need a helicopter pilot, and we need to get those kids somewhere safe." He sounded so calm about it - and that irritated almost as much as the way I got tingly whenever he talked. "It's not as though it's slave labor, Nat. Whiskey Outpost is more or less still a military operation. You'll be performing a duty, one that could benefit all of us." He paused and I slumped forward, head resting on the back of his chair. He was right. Ranger was always right. I just didn't like being told what the hell I was doing. "Besides, it would keep Jo safe."

"You know, I think that's the most words you've ever strung together in my presence, Ranger. Be careful, I might start thinking you like me or something." Sure, my words were a little muffled due to the fact that I was leaning against the back of the chair, but it didn't matter. I knew he heard me. "You sure these guys check out?" His lack of response was the only answer I'd receive, and I knew it.

I thought about it for a long moment, trying to figure out how likely it was that the rumored Sanctuaries were actually real and, for that matter, whether or not the big tamale of the rumors was real and its leader was sitting next to me. It didn't seem all that likely but, at the same time, I couldn't see any scalpers looking to con us so well. Especially not scalpers with access to a plane.

"Your man said something earlier about Greeds failing in his duty," I murmured, sitting up slowly. The Hummer was still idling on the street and it occurred to me to look out the window. As I suspected, there were several undead lurking nearby, clearly unsure of whether or not to approach. "Do you work with all Merchants?"

"No," Morgan replied immediately. "As far as I know, Sanctuaries within range of Merchants let the Merchants know their location. We've been dropping supplies off to Greeds for two months now and he's had explicit orders to share our location with any non-infected peoples." When I glanced over, his eyes were narrowed, nearly glaring at me. "The other half of your group informed us that he was a piece of shit, and we were going to have a nice talk with him in the near future - but your pal Ranger beat us to it."

I sucked in a deep breath sharply at that, picturing exactly how Ranger would have dealt with that. I hadn't seen Greeds anywhere in the pub when I'd woken up, which probably meant he'd been stuffed somewhere unpleasant. Maybe the freezer. Leaving his body outside would only draw the Infected, which would render the location useless for the future. Maybe they'd place another Merchant there? Was there a list of backups that popped up when needed?

"Okay, suppose I'm done with the questions now." I wasn't tired, but I was confused and more than a little annoyed. I didn't know about the others in the group, but I'd given up hope of ever finding a real safe place. I'd assumed that I'd spend the rest of my miserable life moving from place to place, doing whatever it took to try to make sure my sister had as normal a childhood as possible. "Are you going to use me as bait for the zombies?"

Smith, the driver, snorted as he put the Hummer into gear and we started rolling forward slowly. I expelled a soft sigh as I closed my eyes, head resting against the window. I had no idea what time it was, but something told me that dawn wasn't far off.

Which meant I'd be getting no sleep for the foreseeable future.