Today’s events had practically topped off those of the past few days, outdoing the general civil unrest and curfews which had recently frequented Chico. Even from well behind the borders of the haven, Coltrane was able to make out the sudden appearance of a military helicopter in the far distance and had been on his way join the watching crowd near the scene if only out of curiosity for what was going on. Unfortunately, by the time he’d actual reached the crowd the helicopter had landed and the people onboard were trickling into the haven. “Damn,” he muttered. “Guess Bruce was right about those choppers.”

Six well armoured figures collected around the helicopter with accessorized rifles hung off the front of each of their tactical vests. Dominant hands hovering over the grips of their weapons, the figures scanned the crowd through dark lensed goggles. The seventh figure, feminine despite the armour, disembarked beside two far less prepared men. Of the men, one was bandaged and smirking. 

The seventh soldier let out a grunt and raised a hand. Immediately, the soldiers raised their goggles. Only then did their leader raise hers and pay any attention to the crowd. She turned to the two non-combatants and pointed to the gawking crowd. While the posturing all seemed rigid, her words to them looked softer, almost human. Like that the two offered awkward salutes and limped into the crowd. Of them, the bearded one seemed to eye Coltrane. The leader glanced over the crowd once again, slow as if memorizing each face, before giving a small grin and calling out, “Begin!”

In a snap the pilot joined the seven. Four groups formed and, without another word, disappeared into the crowd. 

Frowning, Coltrane swore that there was something odd about the bearded man - even though this whole situation itself was out of the ordinary. Hell, it’d been a long time since he’d seen any sign of the military which hadn’t been reduced to a mass of skeletal, limping corpses that wanted to tear him apart, and even then the soldiers he’d seen had either disappeared on some lost cause to save the old world or struck out on their own in this unforgiving new land. Shifting his focus back towards their leader, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was something unusual about her or the intentions of the little crew she had there.

Pressing on through the dwindling crowd, Coltrane squinted yet against as he watched the group descend from the makeshift helipad and his eyes darted towards the bearded man yet again, still trying to figure out why the man struck him as a familiar face when it occurred to him that he’d definitely seen the man before - specifically when he’d run into the convoy comprised of Daryl, Abbie and the others back on the road and hooked up with them. The bearded man had definitely been one of them, for sure, but he couldn’t recall the man’s name for some reason, though that was probably because they’d never really spoken at the time.

Still, Coltrane clamoured for a familiar - and presumably friendly - face who’d be more likely to greet him in a mutual manner, and if anything the man looked like he also probably wanted to talk with someone who he already knew, vaguely or otherwise. Weaving in and out between the remaining onlookers whose interests were still piqued by the sudden appearance of a military helicopter and its crew at the haven, Coltrane slow zeroed in towards the bearded individual and his bandaged friend until he’d finally caught up next to them, before placing a hand on the former’s shoulder to grab his attention. “Hey man, I don’t know if you recognised me from the highway or not,” he began, a little unsure on how to start the conversation “At any rate, it’s Coltrane - I don’t think I caught your name.”

At the edge of the crowd, the three stood in quiet for a moment. Simon recognized the man, but had to glance about before saying a word. When his head stilled his vision kept spinning. His stomach churned and his head again felt light. He staggered toward Coltrane, catching himself on the bewildered man’s shoulder.

“I-Food. Please,” he stammered, willing himself conscious. Suddenly his body felt heavy. 

Crowds formed throughout the streets. Every group told a different story of the helicopter, but just trying to stand, Simon forgot the details of each with the next. Coltrane quickly pointed towards a two-story house with a ragtag sign worn across the front. The name read Zed’s Bite-n-Run in big, lovingly painted red letters. Before he could protest or leave, Simon found himself sitting at a table in the mix of natural and candle light. Half a dozen people sat at the bar. Their faces were just blurs. 

A minute later, Coltrane set a plate in front of Simon and took a seat between him and Remmy. Leaning in, he pointed to the modest portion and slowly instructed, “Take it steady man, don’t wanna be throwing it up.” Frowning, he looked the two up and down and speaking up once again. “So... who are you two?”

“Simon. That’s Remmy.”