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!

"Every child should have a safe place in their life." - Joe Manchin

Chapter Six

(Natalie)

"It's real big."

I managed a smile as I nodded in agreement. "It sure is."

The flight out of New Jersey, where we'd been located for all of three days, to North Carolina had gone without a hitch. The pilot, a man named Matt that had only nodded at us, had ensured a steady and quiet flight. Sure, the plane was made for cargo and was only ruggedly outfitted with seating for up to twenty people plus lots of cargo space, but it was still a plane. And it didn't fall out of the sky.

"Big gates," Jo commented, leaning over me to peer out curiously.

Several vehicles had been waiting for us at the airstrip the moment we'd landed. It had been a four hour flight and dusk was coming, and something told me I wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. I'd climbed up into an open-air Jeep along with Coop and Ranger, Jo and Smith, the same guy from the night before. The trip from the airstrip to the outskirts of Whiskey Outpost had taken only half an hour, but it felt more like three hours.

"Three sides of the Outpost are completely secure - our walls are three stories high and we have guard towers every hundred and fifty feet." Smith wasn't much of a chatterbox, but I had a feeling that he knew both Coop and Ranger were eying the huge place. "The fourth side faces the mountainside and it's secured by a twenty foot tall line of fence and barbed wire. We have roaming patrols at the gate and spotlights at night - as well as sensors all around the perimeter."

We reached a large fenced-in gate that opened slowly, allowing the Jeep to lead the parade of vehicles inside. There was another gate, though it was more like a moat. It was twenty-five foot tall and looked like a set of double doors; double doors that could withstand attack from a tank.

"Holy shee-it." Sure, it wasn't proper language to use in front of Jo, but I was blown away.

Whiskey Outpost looked like a self-sufficient motherfucking town. There were buildings everywhere, most of which were labeled. I spotted a Mess Hall, a General Store, an Arms Supply House, and dozens of others that I couldn't identify. People wandered about, most clearly carrying at least one weapon, but they seemed healthy and - friendly.

"That's the main HQ," Smith explained as he pointed to a tall building that looked like it could have been a control tower at an airport had it been - well, at an actual airport. It looked to be guarded by several men and was at least four stories tall and huge in general. "The housing we offer is a little different. We use abandoned truck trailers, stacked two high. I know what you're thinking." He caught my annoyed gaze in the rear view mirror and smiled. "They're clean, sufficient, and take up less space than a real building would. They're called LiNX modular shelters, and they're generally used, well, not in places like this."

"We're going to live in a truck trailer?" Jo whispered, eyes wide. "That's so stupid."

"The good thing is that the modulars are arranged so that people aren't exactly grouped with complete strangers. They're kind of like little one bedroom apartments, except for in the case of married couples and families." His gaze met mine again in the rear view mirror and I got the distinct feeling that he enjoyed riling me up. "About three months ago, we got the electricity running. For good. Now we use these ID cards for everything."

There was an ID card attached to a clip that hung from his neck, and it looked like any average ID card that an employee would wear nearly anywhere in the world. He held it up for inspection for a moment before it was tucked back under his vest.

"Everyone has a profession or a particular set of skills that they can offer the Outpost. You have the military personnel like me that ensure that the place is safe, you have cooks and gardeners and doctors. And you have lawyers." He smiled broadly as he pulled the Jeep to a stop. "They're usually on clean-up duty."

Smith hopped out of the Jeep and the rest of us followed suit, though at a calmer pace. Jo clambered down beside me, dressed in jeans, boots, a long-sleeved shirt, and an outfitted Kevlar vest. Her hair was tucked under a hat and she almost looked like a boy - save for the bright red fingernail polish on her nails. She had a small backpack slung on and immediately looped a finger through one of my belt loops as I slung my pack across my back before picking up my discarded denim jacket and throwing it over my shoulder.

I spotted the stacks of truck trailers and grimaced as I eyed the steps leading up to the second levels. There looked to be hundreds of them, but I knew there couldn't have been that many. Some were rusty and a little dirty on the outside, and I didn't see many people milling about.

The other vehicles rolled to a stop and I watched, a little bemused, as Anna clambered out of a Suburban and the kids followed after her. She had a thin rope in her left hand and I watched as all of the kids sighed as they grabbed onto the line with their left hand - she clearly wasn't taking any chances letting them get loose. I sure as hell would have.

Eve, Fred, Cortez, and Willie piled out of a pick-up truck and grabbed their bags, sticking close to one another. The back of the pick-up, as well as the flatbed behind it, had been loaded down with our supplies. As I started to amble toward said supplies, Coop put a hand on my shoulder and shook his head.

"They want to get us programmed into the Outpost before we go any further," he explained, smiling when I frowned at him. "It's standard procedure, babe."

"Fuck off, Coop." Grumbling, I followed behind Willie, Ranger, and Smith as they led the way into a building that was marked Processing. Which didn't sound all that appealing. The lighting was low and it smelled like Lysol, but it was at least clean. "Stick close, baby girl," I murmured, knowing damn well that Jo wouldn't leave my side.

A woman walked out of a back room wearing a long white coat - a doctor's coat. Her blonde hair was braided down her back and she looked cool and calm despite the slightly muggy weather. Her bleached teeth sparkled when she smiled, hands folded together calmly. "My, it's nice to see so many happy people. Hello there." The kids seemed transfixed by her as she picked up a glass container - one stuffed with candy. "I'm Dr. Quenton and I just need to examine you all quickly."

To my surprise, it was one of the kids, John, I think, that ambled forward. He held out his hand expectantly, and once a lollipop was in his grasp, he smiled. He didn't even glance over his shoulder as he followed Dr. Quenton into the back room before disappearing from sight.

"It's just a quick physical," Willie explained softly. Our group had collapsed in on itself and we were huddled close, all clearly a little ill at ease. "They're checking for recent bite marks and scratches. I was told they've perfected a scanner that can detect the caused by the bites and scratches with a simple blood test - like one of them glucose checkers. Just a precaution."

"Precaution, my fat ass," I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes at the back of Willie's head. Anna caught my eye and smiled slightly, but it didn't reach her eyes. It never did. Anna hadn't really smiled once since I'd met her. And that had been ages ago. "Makes me feel like cattle."

"You are getting a little beefy around the hips," Coop commented wryly, nudging me in my side with his elbow. I jabbed him in the side with my elbow and he hissed in response. "Fuck, Nat. Is it that time again already?"

"Fuck off, Coop!" I hissed, glaring over at him. I wasn't sure what there was about Coop, but had a love-hate relationship that went from heavy flirting one minute to full-out brawling the next. Sure, we exchanged jibes like they were compliments, but it was all in good fun. Most of the time. "Hate you."

"Aw, you know you love me, babe." He slung his arm around my waist and I put up with it for all of five seconds before I shrugged him away. "Looks like John escaped with his life intact."

John ambled out of the back room, his face a little flushed. I wasn't sure why, and I had a feeling I didn't want to know why. Dr. Quenton stood there, hands on her hips, and her eyes met mine. "I was just radioed to see to Natalie next. And based on - well, what I heard, I'm guessing that's you."

"Yep." I'd forgotten about Jo hanging onto my side as I shoved my way through the crowd, hurrying toward the back room. When the doctor's gaze flickered to my side, I instinctively placed a hand on Jo's shoulder and squeezed. "This is Joanne. She'll be coming back with me."

The doctor lifted a brow in response but said nothing as she slipped into the room, leaving me to trail in her wake. It looked like a doctor's office - a real doctor's office. There were cupboards along the wall that were covered in glass and locked with a key that were filled with supplies. Labeled bottles, containers of tongue depressors and gauze - they all stared back at me. An examination table sat along the wall and there was a door in the back of the room that looked like it led to a surgery room, or something.

"I'm going to close the door, if that's alright." Dr. Quenton didn't wait for a response as she shut the door behind me before motioning to the examination table. "I don't need to do a full physical today. I just want to ask a few questions and take two quick blood samples."

I ambled over to the examination table and helped Jo scurry up onto it and then I sat down next to her, careful not to knock her over with my pack. "Sounds reasonable." I guessed. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been to a real doctor, but I had been patched up a few times in the last year. It was impossible to survive without getting a few bumps and bruises along the way. "Are you the only doctor around here?"

"Of course not," she replied airily as she snapped on a pair of latex gloves. She was humming under her breath as she pulled what looked like a glucose checker out of a drawer. While she was busy gathering what she needed, I hazarded a glance at Jo who, as per usual, looked calm and relaxed. "This just takes a tiny pinprick. It's best if it comes from a finger."

Both Jo and I held out our left hands and watched as Dr. Quenton swabbed our index fingers with little rubbing alcohol pads. No more than thirty seconds later, we'd both been pricked and scanned and had matching plain band-aids to show for the non-existent pain.

"As suspected, completely clean," she murmured as she pulled off her gloves and picked up a hand held computer. It was much smaller than any laptop the average consumer would have used, and I had to assume that it was something only doctors or the people in the big leagues used. "Now, I just need to ask you a few questions. I need your full names, your ages, and any known allergies."

Lips pursed, I slowly folded my hands in my lap and inhaled sharply. "Natalie Rose Elden and Joanne Lynn Elden, ages twenty-seven and six." I paused and recited our birth dates from memory and merely smirked at the doctor's amazed expression. She was staring at Jo in disbelief - she got that a lot. "Jo's allergic to morphine, but she doesn't have any other known allergies. I'm allergic to bullshit, but that's about it."

The doctor didn't even crack a smile. "Could I get a brief medical history? Are there any significant injuries or hospital stays that either of you have been through?"

"Jo was born two months premature," I murmured, glancing down at the small girl next to me. "She spent the first ninety days of her life in the NICU, but she turned out okay. Incidentally, she got a really bad case of pneumonia when she was three and spent about a month in the hospital because it was so bad. She's never broken any bones, but she sprained her wrist about - oh, four months ago." I paused when I realized the doctor was watching me a little too closely. "I had my appendix removed when I was twelve or thereabouts. I tore my ACL when I was sixteen and I broke my arm in two places a year or so later. Neither of us are prone to getting sick and have been healthy as horses since all this shit started."

"And Jo is your . . ." Dr. Quenton trailed off, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

It was a question I'd answered dozens of times and it never got any easier. "She's my sister," I answered softly, wrapping an arm around Jo as she leaned her head against me. "It's just us, Dr. Quenton. All we've got is each other."

"I see." She placed the small hand held computer on the shiny counter and stood there, hands on her hips. "I'm only the CMO here - the Chief Medical Officer - but I can say that you're both in excellent physical shape and will probably both survive this. Assuming that anyone does." The doctor sighed as she ran her hands through her perfect hair, making me wonder if she was as worn out as I always felt. "You're the new helicopter pilot, I hear. A lot of people come in here with miscellaneous skills and they have a hard time finding a niche. You'll be just fine."

"Is that it then?" I slid off of the examination table and Jo followed beside me. Immediately, I felt one of her fingers slide through a belt loop on my side and it was almost comforting just knowing that she was there. "Are we good to go?"

She led the way back into the front of the building and we followed behind her. The others were still grouped together, but they looked more calm and relaxed. Several were drinking from bottles of water and the kids were munching on what looked like crackers. "Smith here will escort you to the HQ, Miss Elden."

"Natalie," I hissed, narrowing my eyes when she merely lifted a perfectly sculpted brow in my direction. "It's just Natalie."

"Very well." Not at all perturbed, she motioned to Smith and cleared her throat. "The others will go next door to be outfitted with their IDs. You can all meet up later in the Mess Hall."

Smith took a step forward and put his hand on my arm, attempting to tug me forward. I shrugged off his touch and glared at him until he simply ushered me toward the door. "Fine," I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, but the kid has to stay here. No one's allowed in the HQ without their ID."

"Then why the fuck am I being allowed in?" I questioned, causing the man's cheeks to darken slightly. "I'm not going anywhere without her."

"It's simply procedure, Ma'am. The HQ isn't any place for a kid." He pleaded with me with his dark eyes, and I finally sighed. "It won't be long. Maybe an hour, tops."

"I'll stay with Ranger." I glanced down at Jo in surprise before following her gaze to the blank-faced man. Brow lifted, I considered the giant for a minute before sighing when he inclined his head ever-so-slightly - as close as he could probably get to an actual nod. Jo tugged on my belt loop before she let go and scurried to the man's side. "It's okay," Jo reassured me, but it didn't help much.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why in the hell she was so attached to the man. True, I didn't see how they interacted when I wasn't around. But, when I was, he was close-lipped and simply watched her like a bodyguard - not a friend. After a moment, I simply sighed and followed Smith out of the building, well aware that several pairs of eyes were on my back.

"So, you single?" Smith winked as he led the way to the HQ. "What?"

"Fuck off, Smith."