Snippet #2501187

Steve kicked aside the destroyed lampshade next to the small red Honda. "Think there's some fuel in here?" he called out to Nathan and Schantz.

Schantz popped over with the red gas can she'd found a little earlier, and connected the garden hose and with a quick breath started to siphon some of the fuel from the tank. "This'll be good to take back," she said quietly, shielding her eyes and nose from the quick burst of gas vapors in the air.

Nathan kept an eye on the road before them, looking for a few of the landmarks around to identify the way to the ammunition shop. "We'll have enough to be on the road to a better place soon," he observed out loud.

"If we can only agree on where to go," Schantz cracked as she continued to work on getting fuel into the can. "No one can agree on anything, though, so... yeah."

"Harper's trying to talk to people," Steve pointed out, also keeping watch on the street. "She's trying to get people to come to a consensus."

"Well, some of us know what the right answer is," Nathan quipped sullenly. He tossed his golf club back and forth from one hand to the other. "Some of us actually know where the safe places in the city are."

"Everyone's got a lot of considerations to make," Steve countered mildly. "And everyone has to compromise and agree. Everyone has to win somehow. You know how that works."

Nathan laughed and rolled his eyes slightly. "Much progress it's made for us, that approach," he whistled, grinning at Steve. "I know you know how bullshit that really sounds."

Steve laughed back. "Yeah, it's not easy, is it?" he said. "Still gotta try."

Nathan peered ahead. "We're not far, you guys," he called out to the others, pointing ahead. "Let's get going. We'll find it in there."

Schantz capped the red can and gripped its handle as she walked ahead, slinging the spiky garden tool over her shoulder. Steve offered to take the can but she politely refused, simply shaking her head and continuing forward. Nathan led them to the storefront of an ammo shop with opaque black windows. Just the day before he'd come into the building and found that the place was mostly cleaned out, except for a stash under the floorboards by the cash register. He was too rushed to count, but he did estimate that there was over 500 rounds of ammunition that could be dug out from that hiding spot. Of what calibers and sizes they were, he had no idea... he just knew that those things would be useful.

Not that he wanted to be the one holding a gun. He detested guns. The mere thought of them reminded him of a story he was told as a kid about someone's son who accidentally shot himself in his home. It always depressed him a little. In the present, though, Nathan knew that having firearms really wasn't a bad thing considering the situation... but he still preferred to not have to handle such a thing if he didn't absolutely have to.

The three were stopped dead in their tracks when they heard a voice ring out. "Hold up, don't move!"

Steve instinctively focused the shotgun on a uniformed man kneeling behind a sportscar.

"Put down your weapons!" called out another voice.

The three stopped in their tracks. Schantz' face went white as she set the gas can and the garden tool down at her feet and her hands behind her head. Steve placed the shotgun in front of him on the ground and stood back up, raising his hands at elbow-level. Nathan stubbornly held onto the golf club, until he saw two more heads pop up from around the store with accompanying rifles. He gulped back his panic and obligingly set the club down on the ground.

"Into the building!" a third voice called, this one in a British accent, markedly different from the other two. "Hands up!"

The three gunmen approached the three scavengers and scooted them toward the door to the store. Schantz studied their faces, and then finally let out a relieved sigh. "Hey! I know you!" she said to the tallest one, the surprise in her voice evident. "I gave you Stephanie's wallet and phone!"

Nathan stared ahead, and his eyes widened. Schantz was right. "Holy shit, it IS you!" he confirmed.

"Shh, shh, voices down, you'll draw the walkers in," the black soldier broke in quickly. "We'll get your weapons in a few. Sergeant, do you know these people?"

They were ushered into the door, where five non-uniformed people were huddled behind a glass counter, digging the ammo stash from the floor near the cash register. A familiar-looking figure popped up--the girl with the glasses and the brown hair from the frigate.

Schantz let out another surprised gasp. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "It's you!"