Derek Dwyre

Logain nodded. "Not a problem, ma'am. I'll escort you personally. If they're still alive, we'll find them." The ex-Marine clapped a hand on his chest and dug around his pocket before he pulled out two fist-sized canisters. He kept one and handed the other to Ruben.

"We have protocol to follow. If we show up without setting off these canisters of smoke, they'll shoot us first. Snipers." Logain explained before pointing to Ruben. "If we're all clear and no zombies are following us, throw that canister. Blue smoke is the designated all-clear sign. My smoke is red. It means we're hot and we have unfriendlies closing in."

Logain did a small jump and readjusted the weight from his vest and weapons. "If we've no other questions, let's get going. If at all possible, conserve ammo. We're not out to have a party. Shoot only on my command, or if it is life-or-death situation."

Logain looked around at the group and nodded. "Let's rock'n'roll." The man turned and broke into a light jog, easy for anyone with two human legs to keep up with. They would need to get to the compound fast. The sun was already clearing the horizon.

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Marineking

With a flamboyant wave to the others, James set out after the military-man, staying one step behind and to his left. He pulled out his six-shooter and opened up the chamber, remembering that he'd yet to reload it. He didn't have many bullets left - two and a half loads at most. Hopefully he wouldn't have to use it, and maybe he could find something bigger at the base they were after. He filled up all six slots and flicked it closed, holding it up to his ear as good as any TV-educated man could. Carefully, he scanned his side of the street. This close to safety, it would be all-to-typical for him to lose a chunk of his oh-so-precious flesh.

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