Leaving the sporting goods store, Val found cause for mild surprise, which quickly turned to concern. Perched upon his bike, waiting for him, was Huginn.
"What's up?" Val asked the raven.
"You asked me to look out for people from the roads headed to the East. Minutes after you departed, I spotted an approaching convoy of large trucks with canvas roofing in the back. Are those not the individuals you were concerned about?"
Val's expression turned grim. "Yes, that should be them…"
"What do you intend to do?"
Val paused for a moment, before issuing a series of instructions. "We need to return immediately, but I don't want them to know about me, get Muninn and come find me later, I'm going to hide out near the warehouse. If you can listen in on them, I need to know what they're here for, how many there are, and what kind of weapons they have. Try to check out the trucks if you can. They won't be too suspicious of a bird."
"Are you expecting a fight?"
"… Yeah, they've already been here once. If there's a whole convoy this time, I doubt they'll take no for an answer."
Huginn nodded and took off, returning to the warehouse to perform reconnaissance with Muninn. Val himself returned into the store, looking for a pair of binoculars or even a monocular, anything to let him see at a distance. Just in case he also grabbed a length of climbing rope, it was strong, relatively light, and he suspected he would end up having a use for it.
. . .
Richard, Jim, and a few other officers were in the warehouse office. Across from them stood five men in military fatigues. All of them had a level of fitness to be expected of servicemen. Their hair all buzzed very short, a couple of them nearly shaved bald. They were all equipped with military-issued assault rifles and seemed ready as ever to enter a battlefield. One of them, looking to be the leader, was addressing Richard in a tone that did not seem very pleased.
"We have told you before, and now we are under direct orders from the Commander-in-Chief himself to secure and relocate any and all civilians we find." The man was in his thirties, on his uniform was the yellow triple chevron symbol denoting a sergeant, and the name "Vickers."
"The president himself is issuing these orders? Do you have proof of that?" The police chief was resting his temple on his propped up arm, appearing to be in an unpleasant mood as well. In his free hand, he was holding a memo that did not bear any official seals. The information and instructions detailed within attested to the fact that survivors were gathering in Carson City. Furthermore, the Army and National Guard had been deployed to secure survivors.
"I ask that you cooperate with our mission, there are many more survivors out there, and we are authorized to use force to expedite the process." The sergeant glared, an obvious threat in both his words and tone.
"Is that why you brought enough firearms and ammunition to clear a city? Search and rescue operations?"
"If you were not aware, there is an outbreak of walking corpses plaguing the country, we are equipped for that purpose."
"Why do these instructions only mention 'children, young adults under thirty, women, and no one with existing health complications'? Surely with eight trucks and twelve men, you can take everyone here."
"We have another stop to make on the return trip. We are prioritizing at-risk civilians fit for travel. We're not traveling in comfort."
"Really? It seems strange that there is no mention of families. Do you intend to separate them? Some families here are still intact, husbands and wives, parents, and children." There was apparent disbelief in Richard's tone, which further incensed and tested the patience of the sergeant.
"It can't be helped, that's the situation, we will return in two weeks for the remaining civilians."
"And you are already aware that I told the men you sent last time that the residents here are those who wish to remain and rebuild this city? I even let them ask the people themselves."
"The United States government has already marked the entire West Coast as lost, resource consolidation is the priority, in time we will retake the rest of the country."
"Ah. 'Resource consolidation,' huh? So that is what we have become. Constitutional rights be damned, is it?"
"Don't play stupid with me. You already have been told martial law has been declared. The entire country is under the direct jurisdiction of the military." The sergeant almost spat some of his words through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed with the Chief's almost flippant attitude.
"I suppose you will force the issue either way. Sigh, very well, carry out your orders, but these are my people, under my protection, until they reach the shelter. If I see unjust use of force, I'm afraid my officers who have served several weeks without pay, only on their dedication to the safety of our community, may not be so cooperative." Richard's tone turned grave as he clearly enunciated his words, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Are you threatening me?" A few of the soldiers were tense, resting their fingers on the safety latch of their guns.
Richard simply waved them off dismissively. After a moment, the sergeant dropped the issue and left with the soldiers in tow.
Sighing, Richard massaged his temples with his fingers. Uncertainty clouded his mood.
"Is that it then? We're just going to let them take our people?" Jim asked in an uncertain tone.
"What can we actually do?"
"They only have twelve guys, we have the guns from the armory. Our country is built on rebelling against injustice." Another officer nearby shrugged, making an obvious suggestion.
"And make an enemy of our own government? No. Even if we started a fight and won, we could lose the lives of our own, and there will just be more of them in time, with bigger guns." Richard sounded exhausted, looking over the documents and floor plans on his desk as if there might be an answer in the drawings.
"Believe me, I would love nothing more than to kick them out, gun them down if they try anything stupid. Let the rest of the team know to cooperate, but we won't stand idly by if we see senseless violence on these premises. For the safety of our people, we have to comply. Even my own son will be among those taken…"
Perched on a light fixture just outside the office door, Muninn hid silently, having listened in on the entire discussion.
In the next half hour, to the abject horror of the residents, twelve soldiers were lining them up, noting down names on a list. The residents looked to the officers, who could only return apologetic glances and watch as they were sorted into two groups. People who would be taken in the first group did not take it well. Some began shouting about injustice and human rights, some broke into fits of anger, they restrained one man after he had punched a soldier in the nose. Fortunately, the soldiers at least acted with consistent professionalism, using the least amount of force needed to convince the residents to cooperate. They did not want to deal with an angry mob of nearly fifty people who had managed to survive reasonably well, not having any signs of being malnourished.
After another couple of hours, the soldiers had finished explaining the plan and making their lists. They nearly turned the crowd against them when they told the residents how fortunate they were to be returning to a semblance of ordinary life in Carson City. The residents would remain at the base for the night. As soon as the sun rose, the soldiers would return to load them into the trucks and depart. They then left the warehouse, taking up temporary residence in a nearby two-story bar, among the buildings Val had cleared the first night.
"Dad, what the fuck?! You're just going to let them walk all over us and take us away??" Ryan had barged into his father's office as soon as the soldiers had left.
"Easy, there's no choice, I'm not happy about it either, but in two weeks we'll all be going there, anyway. It's just two weeks, and we'll start over somehow." Richard was visibly stressed, there was a sandwich left untouched for an hour on his desk.
"Yeah? What if they don't come back? Then what?"
"They'll come back, if they don't, we'll round up some more vehicles and go there ourselves. It'll be fine, just cooperate with the army, in time we'll return and get our home back."
"Unbelievable… It wasn't long ago you wouldn't listen to anyone order you around! We have more guns than they do, we can take them. You know they're taking Sophie away from her dad? She's eight! You're just going to let them—"
"Goddammit, boy! Get your fucking head on straight for one minute and think about what will happen if we don't cooperate! What good will it do to start a war against our own government over this? Two weeks, this whole thing will blow over, maybe it is better there, I'm in charge of the safety of our residents — their homes are not worth their lives."
"… If that was true, then why did we stay?"
Richard ignored him, glaring at the orders the soldiers left him with. After a few minutes of silence, Ryan stormed out of the office. The Chief reclined in his chair, lost in thought.
Outside, a raven took off from a light fixture, flying through the open warehouse gate toward an abandoned house a couple blocks away.
Val was playing with his newly acquired knife, sitting on a kitchen countertop, having made a meal of some canned baked beans he fished out of the cupboards, judging by the empty can and borrowed spoon. He was getting a feel for the length and grip of the blade when Muninn came in through a broken window.
"What've you got for me?" Val asked as he offered some soft jerky to the raven.
"They are taking almost half of them to Carson City tomorrow morning at daybreak. They have eight trucks and twelve men, all armed with assault weapons."
"Hmm, any fights break out?"
"Some, but nothing serious. The residents are either angry or scared, but the police are cooperating for the most part."
"Kind of figures, he can't afford to make an enemy of the military in his position. Anything else?"
"This is just my impression, but while they do have discipline, they do not seem like good people."
"That's not too surprising, they're soldiers, National Guard, or Army, might not actually be much difference right now. Their training and experience make them a bit hard to approach sometimes. We've had enough wars in the last two decades to do a fair number on their personality, moral compass, even their sanity."
"It is not that, at least that is not what I am talking about, I have met veterans of some very bloody wars before. Most of these men do not carry themselves as experienced warriors, this was something more… base."
"Well, as long as they're not beating the residents, then this will probably just go through. We'll set out at the same time, not much reason to stay anymore. The ghouls will fall apart on their own, or be handled by the survivors now. I have more important things to look into then putting down the dead all over the city."
"Oh, one more thing."
"Hmm?"
"They're only taking women, children, and young adults."
"That's… Oddly specific, any good reason why?" Val raised a questioning brow to the raven.
"Not too sure, Richard seemed dubious of the entire thing, but the order came from your president himself, apparently. This is their first stop, they have a second one along the way back. Also, martial law has been declared across the country."
"Great… So they are the law now, I guess in these times that's the only effective one."
At that moment, Huginn also returned, swooping through the same window and coming to a stop on a chair. Unlike Muninn, he had a disgusted look on his face.
"What did you find?" Val noticed his demeanor and turned serious.
"I inspected their trucks. They have seven men guarding them, but in one of the trucks, there are already some survivors."
"What? Muninn just told me they said this was their first stop."
"That's irrelevant — also evidently not true, I checked inside a few of the trucks, there were six young women in one of them, all of them bound in cuffs and gagged." Huginn's voice seemed to sound deeper and furious as he added. "Some have been clearly abused. Terrible bruises on their face, neck, and upper arms from what I could see. I left when one of the soldiers raised his gun, interested in using me as target practice."
Val's expression turned dark, the cool air around him warmed notably, and his eyes began to smolder. He returned his knife to its scabbard and got up from the counter, turning to head towards the bedroom.
"Where are you going?" Muninn asked.
He replied in an uncharacteristically cold tone. "I want to ask Valor something."