Diego Vargas. Former cop turned survivor, now leader of a relatively large survivor group at the San Manuel Stadium. Walls had been built around the field, enclosing the space, several watch towers and barricades had been built a bit away from the stadium, bridges suspended above the walls allowed access to those towers, that was how they cleared the undead crowding the walls.
Diego's morning rituals came to him easily enough. Stumbling over to a basin and splashing a bit of water on his face, shaving his face and slicking back his hair. He donned his old police uniform, faded and sun beat.
He grabbed his pistol from the bedside and placed it in his holster, securing the weapon. He didn't need some kid trying to steal it again. He slowly walked outside the makeshift room, greeting fellow survivors as he walked around the perimeter of the stadium, checking on the walls.
He nodded as another survivor greeted him as he entered the box overlooking the field. The whole field had been turned into makeshift gardens, little plants sprouting from patches of worked soil.
The distant rumble of thunder made Diego sigh. "We're going to have to set up the rainwater collection again."
"Yes, we need all the water we can get… there is just never enough." Diego agreed.
"Food's getting pretty low again too. We're going to have to send out another group soon." The other man replied while observing the storm.
"Vargas… that patrol we sent out last week should be returning today, maybe those traders from Anaheim will pass by again on their route." Vincent, a fellow police officer said…
"Hopefully we can trade those extra generators we found at the Lowe's for some extra food." Diego muttered.
"We need some more medical supplies, doc is running out again." Vance, the man from earlier added.
"Oh, forgot, Sarah's kid came out fine last night, little guy should grow up healthy long as we can feed him." Vincent said with a small grin.
"We'll see…" Diego replied and started walking around the camp, helping people finish their temporary structures in the stands. A few construction workers ensured everything was at least stable and not likely to collapse on itself.
Diego spent the morning helping the people, building homes, repairing the walls, tending to the gardens. It was mid afternoon when cheerful shouts came from the gate. Survivors came pouring out of their shelters, streaming towards the entrance.
"Diego, Phineas and his traders, got saved by our boys coming back on a patrol…" Vincent filled Vargas in as they approached the makeshift encampment outside the walls. Trucks and vans of Phineas traders were parked in a lose gaggle, emulating a street market.
People swarmed the little makeshift market as the camp guard took positions overlooking the approaches to the stadium. Diego walked around the market, looking for Phineas, finding the wily man squirreled away in the back of a camper.
"Ah, Diego Vargas… pleasure to see you again. I figured the walkers would have gotten you by now, figuring how you like to throw yourself in front of em…"
"I'm surprised those mutants haven't ripped you to shreds yet, Phineas." Diego replied with a chuckle, remembering some of the close calls he'd had.
"Nah, I'm too quick." He remarked as he set out a cup of a steaming liquid. Curious Diego took a sip.
"Is this coffee?" He glanced between the cup and Phineas.
"Indeed…" he said quietly…
"No doubt word is gonna get around soon. But there's a large group… an I mean large, like massive. They've taken out the Mikey Gang… you'll be lucky to find a few dozen of em left."
Despite the warmth of the coffee Diego felt a shiver run down his spine… the Mikey gang was huge… how strong did this group have to be to erase that gang so easily? "Who did it?"
"They're calling themselves the Socialist Republic of Southern California… taken over a large swath of the city of Angels… fuck loads of Russian soldiers wandering about, say they're from some private military company pre apocalypse" Phineas said cryptically.
"How many?" Diego asked.
"Dunno Diego…" Phineas sighed.
"The first place o' theirs we came across we were turned away from, a former military base at Los Alamitos… they got another camp at Dominguez High school in Compton. They claim there's about three or four thousand people there, not counting the troops…"
"Four thousand?" Diego gasped…
"There was at least that number of soldiers there too… though that's just what my people could confirm…" he said with a sigh.
"Look, Diego… tomorrow morning my people and I are headed east… those people, the few soldiers that spoke English said they were soldiers of the Soviet Union…"
"I ain't gonna stay here and fall under some commie government. I'd encourage you to try and move your people too."
Diego leaned back in his chair, musing. Their camp here was a bit over six hundred people, there was no way they'd be able to fight some faction that had around four thousand people… hell, they'd struggled with the Mikey gang which by their guesstimation numbered around fifteen hundred raiders.
"What about the other camps nearby?" Diego asked…
"I ain't visited many others. I'm trying to skip town… this is just the safest camp before I cross the mountains…"
"Look Diego, I'm doing you a favor by letting you know, but I just don't got a good feeling about these…" Phineas was cut off by the sound of rotors and a massive machine flying over.
The two of them scrambled out of the van. Above four large helicopters circled the camp. Vargas gulped. The damn things had rocket pods, missiles, auto cannons galore, painted in that old Russian camo pattern, mottled greens and yellows. As the helicopters circled above Digo felt his skin flush with heat.
The massive machines slowly moved above the whole camp. Like they were watching them like guinea pigs. Large red stars were etched into the side of the helicopters. The market had broken out into a panic, the military nature of the machines unmistakable and their foreign design further spread their panic.
Slowly, after an eternity the helicopters flew off, banking north and flying off. The survivors were slowly calmed, Diego and his fellow officers rallying the people while Phineas and his crew packed their market. The two men stood in the middle of the padimon, speaking for the last time.
"I'm sorry Diego… we're leaving. I won't let my people fall under these commies. Your future is in your hands."
The two men shook hands, wishing each other well before departing, the traders getting back into their trucks and vans and driving north as the survivors headed back into their camp, sealing the gates behind them. Survivors spoke in hushed voices about the helicopters.
Rumors were already flying about the camp, some likely heard from the traders, others likely made up. Some of the older survivors spoke vehemently against the soviets and denouncing commisium. Some spoke cautiously, arguing for a diplomatic approach.
The camp began splintering. Arguments audible across the camp as friends and fellow survivors began to break apart, old world ideologies and their opinions on them fracturing the fragile unity they'd had. Diego and his fellow officers spent the entire afternoon and much of the evening trying to prevent fights, breaking a few up, forcing the people to understand that the zombies were still their largest threat at the moment.
Late in the evening, many officers were gathered in the guest locker room. Tired, haggard faces of tired officers were illuminated by a few candles they'd lit, mostly to conserve power. A few officers were standing guard in the towers, otherwise everyone else was here, all thirty seven of them…
"We haven't had a meeting like this in a while…" one officer remarked.
"Since we broadly organized the camp?" Another asked.
"Alright… let's get the discussion topic on the table, the Soviets…" Vincent trailed off.
"We're all aware that they have some helicopters, at least four… it's possible they have more…" Vance said sourly.
"Phineas spoke of the soviets having multiple camps, he was turned away from one in Alamitos, directed to another in Compton. He said there were around four thousand civilians and at least that many soldiers." Diego said. Casting a pall on the group.
"What are we going to do about it Lieutenant?" One of the officers asked.
"There's not much we can do at the moment… we'll send a delegation, try to discern their intentions, work on further fortifications around the stadium… create plans for escape routes, stockpile extra supplies." Vargas said.
"We need to keep the people calm, and present a united front… keep the people from fighting in the stands again…" Vincent said. They spoke long into the night, retiring in the early morning for a few hours of restless sleep. A shock had been delivered to their little world, now they had to figure out how to deal with the new world they'd been made aware of.