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about the Jackson and Theresa’s experience.
    “You think these may be the same guys?” he asked her.
    “I don’t know.  How long have they been there?”
    “About an hour,” he replied.  “They’ve just been sitting there watching.”
    “I need to tell Sergeant Brown,” she said as she headed down the ladder.
     
    “So, how do we play this?” asked Sgt Procell.
    “Well, we don’t know where these guys are from,” replied the cavalry NCO.  “We don’t know how many of them there are.  We do know they have eyes on us, and you can bet they know that much about us.  We need to get some intel.”  He looked at the assembled soldiers
    “We need to set this place up for defense without them knowing they’ve been blown.”  He looked to Sgt Procell.  “Get some help fortifying the reception area.  If they actually hit us, it’ll be through there.  We need to get an OP out.  When the sun goes down, get someone on it.  Jackson and I are going to see if we can do some snooping.”
    He handed Sgt Procell the walkie-talkie Jackson had liberated.  “It’s got about a 500 meter range.  Jackson will have the other one.  Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”
    “You girls stay here,” he told Jen, Kerry, and Theresa.  “Make sure we have people awake in the reception area.”
    The women started to protest.
    “No, this is not negotiable.  Those are bad guys out there and they’re trained.  You guys may be good at killing zombies, but these guys think, react, and shoot back.  I’m not putting you at risk until I know exactly what we’re up against.”
     
    Sgt Procell, three of the kids, Jen, Kerry, Theresa, and Pvt Williams exited the building and made a beeline for the panel van. Everybody picked up a box and walked inside with it; everyone, that is, except for Pvt Williams.  When he was out of site behind the panel van, he dropped to his belly and began a slow low crawl under the vehicles until he was behind the LMTV.  Once there, Williams gave a quiet whistle, meant to sound like a bird or the wind.
    “God Damn It!” Mike began shouting loudly from the roof above him.  “Who’s supposed to replace me on guard?  I got to piss!”  He was lying flat in the bed of the truck before Mike had finished his rant.  Nice!
    At the same time, SSgt Brown and Jackson slid off the roof on the opposite side of the building; again unseen by the two scouts.  Jackson led the pair through the surrounding trees.
    An hour later, they were 30 yards behind Joe and Leroy.  SSgt Brown could just see the back of the black baseball cap the black guy was wearing.  Jackson was right.  This guy appeared to be a pro.  The other guy kept trying to talk, but this guy was cool and quiet.
    The only thing off about the guy was his choice of weapon.  He was carrying one of those pistol caliber carbines.  It had a pistol magazine in the handle and at most held 15 rounds.  Not what he would expect from a mercenary.  Aside from that, everything screamed military.
    They heard him before they saw him.  He was not a pro and didn’t try to be quiet.  He was wearing a black leather jacket, had a big pistol on his side, and a backpack over his shoulder.  He was smaller and lighter than both of the guys they’d been watching up to now.  He looked more like a runner.
    The guy dropped the backpack at the feet of the big black guy.
    “Dinner’s served,” he announced.
    “Shut the fuck up,” Leroy whispered to the new guy.
    “Thor wants to know what you’ve got.”
    “Nothing new,” Joe replied.  “It looks like they resupplied, but nothing else new.”
    “Ok, I’ll be back in the morning with breakfast.”  The man turned on his heels and began fast walking west, the way he came.
    SSgt Brown looked at Jackson, pointed two fingers into his own eyes, and then at the two scouts.  Watch them.  He then signaled that he was going to follow the runner.  Jackson nodded his head and turned and watched the two