If there was one thing Carson hated more than anything else was government bureaucrats. Thank the plague he didn’t have to deal with that bullshit anymore. He could run this how he saw fit, not that there was much to run anymore, just survival.

He read the weekly updates on their storage.
Food: enough to last for quite awhile.
Medicine: barring any unforeseen illness or attacks by Toxo enough to last a year or more.
Ammo: less than he would like.
Fuel: just about running on fumes.

Carson hated how some of his department heads reported in such vague terms, except the doctor, that one was great. Ammo guy could have enough bullets to wipe out every zombie in the world and it would never be enough for him. Carson usually had to go check the actual inventory on it.

Carson went to find his most reliable guy, Emilio. After searching for a while. “Emilio I am assuming you are going on a run for gas. If you need to siphon every drop of fuel from every other vehicle in the fleet to fill up the tanker truck. Also if you get a chance and can do it safely, the teacher of the advanced close quarters training class would like a live zombie, he says if you remove the mandible and the arms it would make an ideal demonstration dummy. I’ll have the Delta Forces commander we rescued lead a raid to scrounge up some ammo. He says he knows a good place to look that most people wouldn’t know about. Some kind of crazy prepper, a real Burt Gummer type. Whatever that means.” [@apathy]

Meanwhile out in the wild a patrol from Parris Security on horseback came across two women. Their commander got down from his horse. “Are you two alright? Do you need anything? My name is Dave.” The Parris Security logo on his gear was still very readable even after years of fading. This guy was lucky he made it back the day before the outbreak he had missed his flight he would have been stuck in Afghanistan and he hated that part of the world more than anything else even zombie field America is better. In the distance you could see their handiwork, smoke filled the air in the distance, they destroyed another pot dispensary. There was only one thing worse than a zombie a zombie on pot. Dave and his men were responsible for finding and setting up safe houses for anyone in Parris Security to use if they can’t make it back by nightfall. The safehouses didn’t offer much but a place to sleep without worry assuming you could climb because every safe house was minimum two stories tall and the stairs were destroyed at least half way up to prevent a zombie from wandering in and getting you in your sleep. [@RavensMuse]