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[b]Survivors:[/b]
	Eric Freeman – A good hearted, but distrusting man of forty-eight years Eric is the a-typical prepper. He’s not expecting anything nation breaking but has prepared for a devastating natural disaster all the same. Lately he’s amped up his efforts, and refreshed his supplies as something seems off in the geo-political environment. He works as a pilot for FedEx, and has served ten years in the US Navy as a fighter pilot before retiring. He’s a widower and the legal guardian of his niece Tonya, and has no children of his own. His skills are limited, but he’s a decent survivalist and a competent hunter. He’s also happens to be a trained pilot, with particular skill in flying large multi engine aircraft.

	Peter Wan – A twenty-two year old electric engineering major from Korea. Peter isn’t much of a prepper but he’s renting out Eric Freeman’s spare bedroom so that he can attend his classes at UT, he also works part time at a nearby pizzeria. Peter is proficient with electronics, and configuring radios and he’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders. Peter doesn’t spend too much time around the house, and has only been staying with Eric for about two months.

	Tonya Wisher – Tonya is a twelve year old girl originally from Montana who now lives with her only uncle outside of San Antonia Texas. Her parents were killed in an accident a year back, and after being passed around from one family member to the next she finally settled in with Eric Freeman, her mother’s brother. Eric bought her a puppy to help cheer her up, and enrolled her in the local Girl Scouts. She’s a smart girl and quick to learn and hardly any trouble, of which Eric is very grateful.


[b]The Stronghold[/b]

	Set at the end of a cul-de-sac on Blueberry Street in New Braunfels Texas is Eric’s one story three bedroomed suburban residence. The house has been prepped for natural disasters, having a decent amount of canned food and clean water stored in the attic, (about two hundred units) and a solid concrete foundation. From within the attic there is access to the roof and a number of small windows which can act as makeshift shooting ports in the event of a siege. The attic is the most secure part of the house, with stacks of prefilled sandbags, fire hydrants, shovels, and axes all ready to be used, along with a twelve foot ladder should escape into the back yard be necessary, and an inflatable raft with an electric pump.

	The ground floor of the house is fairly typical for a usual suburban dwelling. The decorations are sparse but homey and the rooms are kept clean. In the kitchen is an extra twenty units of perishable supplies for regular use, usually restocked by Eric every week or so. In the living room is the TV and a portable radio and a couch which can double as a bed or door barricade. The spare bedroom is kept in good condition by Peter, and is usually left alone by Eric. In Tonya’s room, besides the normal furnishings, is a hand portable radio, and in her closet a hastily made up survival bag with six units of nonperishable food, and several other basic essentials.

	In the master bedroom Eric has a two walk-in closets, one of which he’s turned into his personal armory. Within he keeps his AR-15 with about four hundred 5.56 rounds, two 9mm Glocks with about ninety rounds, and a 12 gauge pump action shot gun with roughly thirty rounds. Also stored in that closet, which is kept locked at all times, Eric keeps his own massive survival backpack with twelve units of nonperishable supplies and a compound bow with a quiver of twelve arrows, and a two foot long machete. In there he also keeps an expansive first aid kit, including a range of anti-biotics, gauze and bandages, and water treatment tablets.

	Out back in the fenced in yard is a six month old border collie named Bella, whose more Tonya’s pet than an actual guard dog. Nevertheless she is pretty good at protecting the outdoor portion of the house from marauding cats and squirrels, keeping Eric’s tool shed safe, and in the case of real intruders could alert those inside the house with her loud yips. Within Eric’s shed are three barrels of gasoline and a generator, should the electricity be cut off. Eric also keeps his extra plywood for boarding up the windows, and a wide array of tools for practical use on the house and vehicles.

	In the carport out front Eric keeps his GMC pickup truck parked next to his beloved Harley Davidson motorcycle, along with his and Tonya’s bicycles. Peter owns his own Prius which is usually parked exposed in the driveway.

[b]Lore:[/b]

	The terminal grew calm like always in the waning hours of the day. The constant chatter of arrivals and departures faded into quiet calm as Eric Freeman, still in his suit and tie patiently waited for the arrival of the twelve o’clock flight. It was late, very late. Checking his shiny silver watch once more Eric sighed and loosened his tie. It was already fifteen after two, he’d landed his own plane nearly three hours ago having expected his niece to arrive shortly after. This of course didn’t happen and Eric found himself waiting one extra hour, and then another, and another. The delays apparently having been serious, either by bad weather or mechanical errors, either way it was making Eric very nervous.

	Standing up Eric ambled over to the window and peered out into the darkened night sky, scanning for any wing lights. Besides the illuminated loading platforms and the blue LED runway lights the skies and airstrips were devoid of light, aircraft or anything else. Eric was about to return to his bench when a distant red glimmer caught his eye, far off in the distance.

	“Finally,” he muttered turning away from the window. Despite his impatience Eric felt a certain level of relief that nothing worse occurred mid transit, if that was indeed her flight. And Eric couldn’t imagine who else would be arriving at such an unholy hour. Sure enough after another twenty minutes or so a collection of yawning passengers, toting with them their carry-on bags descended the escalator and gathered around the luggage return. Others wandered over to the only open coffee service left in the airport to buy themselves a late night drink. Eric watched the small crowd disperse, looking for the visage of his niece Tonya Wisher. He’d seen her less than four months ago, and well-remembered her tearstained face at his sister and brother-in-law’s funeral. Tonya had then been shunted around between relatives and friends before at last being dropped into Eric’s custody. The paperwork was signed, the social service inspection complete, and the deed done well before a shocked and anti-social Eric could even take it all in. Normally Eric would’ve been aghast at the terrible idea of him being the legal guardian of a living, breathing child, but how could he say no to his recently orphaned niece?

	“Tonya, over here.” Eric called, spotting her descending the escalator. She looked exhausted and disheveled and she rushed over to him, dropping her backpack and embracing his waist in a tight hug. For a moment Eric wasn’t sure what to do, standing perplexed before kneeling down and returning the embrace, patting her blonde hair and uttering an assuring, “Easy now, everything’s going to be alright. We’ll make it through this. We can make it through anything.”



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