"The Colony": From the universe of "Fear The Walking Dead"

[TimTimTyner]

"The Colony"

A story from the universe of
"Fear The Walking Dead"

OOC Link

NOTE:
We haven't yet decided whether
or not this RP is closed
to just the two of us.
After we have put up some
posts, if you look at it and
think, "This is for me",
PM me and we'll talk.

Thanks.​

(OOC: We are using Santa Barbara Island as our RP's location. However, rather than being a park and animal refuge, it is a privately owned island occupied by ... well, you find out.)


March 1st, Year 1:

The Dead breeched the fence of the Army Reserve base at 0212 hours...

The order to evacuate was made by 0219, just 5 minutes later...

And the helicopters -- which were always fully fueled with their engines frequently fired up to keep them warm -- began lifting off by 0227, another 8 minutes after that. The nearest of the Dead had gotten close enough to the last aircraft to lift off that the door gunners mowing them down had gotten splashed by blood and brain matter.

A total of 32 males and 12 females -- active duty, reservist, and retired military personnel, as well as a dozen civilians -- huddled tightly together amongst a wide array of supplies; the helicopters had been packed just the previous afternoon as the threat of a Dead overrun loomed.

Captain Robert Hancock would have preferred that the evacuation include more of the 2 dozen helicopters available on the base. But he'd only had enough pilots for the three: 2 UH-60 Black Hawks and a CH-47 Chinook. There were far more valuable supplies on the base that he would have liked to take with them. But when 300+ Dead are bearing down on you, a bird in the hand is good enough.

"Captain, we have a problem!" a voice called over the radio from the other Black Hawk. The co-pilot continued,"We are losing oil pressure!"

Another voice -- probably the vehicle's crew chief who'd only just now put on his headset -- piped in with anxious excitement, "Hey! We got oil or HF all over the hull back here. Are you guys seeing this on your panel? Are we okay?"

Hancock chatted back and forth with the crew of the other Black Hawk a bit more before asking the all important question: "Can we make it to our destination?"

"Not even close, Captain," the response came back. "We got maybe 10 minutes of air time. We gotta set down somewhere!"

Hancock had had an backup landing zone in mind, of course, but even now as he and the pilots spoke of options, he was reluctant to use it. After some more conversation and hard decision making, though, he ordered, "Make for LZ Bravo. You can get us there, right?"

"It's over water, Captain," the pilot responded. "If we go down--"

"Yeah, yeah, you go splash in 50 degree water and drown or die of hypothermia," Hancock cut in, "as opposed to hitting the ground, blowing up, and burning to death, if the rotors didn't cut you up into tiny little pieces already. Do it!"

The orders were shared between the three aircraft, and they banked until they were flying to the west-southwest, almost 180 degrees opposite of where they'd been heading. The mottled darkness of the continent of North America disappeared from underneath them, replaced by the more consistently darker water of the Pacific Ocean.

Ten minutes later, the pilots could see the profile of their island destination in their night vision goggles. The lead pilot of the Black Hawk on which Hancock was riding asked, "Captain, you wanna put'em down near the colony?"

"No," Hancock said without hesitation. "They aren't expecting visitors, and we don't know how their going to react."

"Do we know they aren't Dead, Captain?" the pilot asked, adding quickly, "And I do mean Dead with a capital 'D'."

Hancock hesitated before answering. He'd had a helicopter sent out over the island three days earlier, checking it out as their backup destination. They'd looked for signs of the current status of what his Commander had always called a typical California hippie colony. They'd seen no people, living or Dead, but there had still been livestock roaming the land. Since the Dead liked all forms of warm, red blooded meat, Hancock had concluded that the hippies had either left the island for another locale or had simply hidden from view of the helicopter for one reason or another.

"I want the other two choppers to put down near the southern end of the island," Hancock ordered. "We'll wait for sunup to go make our introductions."

"And what about us, sir?"

"I want to take a spin around the island," he responded. "Let's take another look at it to see if we can see what's what."

The other Black Hawk and the Chinook broke away due south, putting them on a course that would keep them a mile or so off the island's east coastline. They would land about 1000 feet from the southern cliff, immediately dispersing armed troops to create a perimeter in case the Dead were on the little island. The two helicopters shut down their engines, and the remainder of the passengers -- military and civilian both -- were ordered to remain absolutely silent until further notice.

The third helicopter took a counter-clockwise sight seeing tour around the island's perimeter. They stayed over water for the first circle, only passing over land at Arch Point, Webster Point, Sutil Island, and then Arch Point a second time. The next pass was over land, looking again for signs of people, living or Dead. Hancock directed the pilot to pass over the interior of the island to the west of the mountain crest, as well as over the already landed helicopters in the southern area.

But as they came around toward the Colony, he ordered, "Back out over the water! I don't want us close enough for some old farmer who's been smoking weed and tabbing LSD for the past four or five decades to practice his seagull hunting skills on this bird."

They passed by the community, south to north, about 200 feet off the rocky coastline. Hancock had donned a pair of night vision goggles for a look but found there wasn't much to see. Santa Barbara Island had only one small community consisting of a single but large, ranch style home, a handful of outbuildings, greenhouses, stock pens/barns/coops, and the like. There was a dock and storage building in a rocky cove north of the other buildings where supplies could be off loaded from boats by a crane.

Although Hancock couldn't possibly know the true population of what the residents called The Colony, he'd heard that it numbered in the handfuls. Since its purchase from the State more than 50 years earlier, Santa Barbara Island and its population had lived apart from the rest of civilization. There were a couple of dozen County, State, and Federal laws that both prohibited people from visiting the island and punished them severely for violations. The fishing community was restricted from harvesting any closer than 2 miles from the island, and those that disobeyed had often lost their boats, permanently for second violations.

Hancock didn't know who had had the pull to arrange something like this. It reminded him of that M. Night Shyamalan movie, The Village. The only difference was that that community in Pennsylvania had been fictional while this one off the California coast was very much real. And while the truth behind that movie's community was learned late in the movie, the truth about this island's community was still very much unknown. Hancock had no idea what they were going to find when the sun came up the next day.

'Okay, take us down to the others," he ordered. A couple of minutes later, he was jumping out to the rocky ground, asking his second in command, "Report?"

Sergeant Major Glory Howell was the most senior member with Hancock being the Company's only officer. She gave a rundown of what they'd found, which hadn't been much. That, of course, wasn't bad news. He ordered, "Set the watches, four two-man teams. It's what, almost 3? Relieve them at oh-five-hundred. I'm gonna catch a couple of hours so I'm bright eyed and bushy tailed for when our island hosts come to find out what the fuck's happening on their happy little island. But I want you waking me at the first sign of anything walking on two feet."

He pointed a finger at the veteran soldier and stressed, "No shooting the natives, unless they're already dead. We're hoping these people are going to accept us, and that ain't gonna happen if we start turning them into the Dead."

Hancock took a few minutes to check on the others, making physical, verbal, or at least eye contact with each and everyone of them. Quietly, he promised them, we're safe here for now, and I believe we're going to be safe here long term, otherwise I wouldn't have brought you here. I just need ya'll to cuddle up warm and tight and get some sleep for now, and we'll figure things out in the morning."

Some of the others had already begun rolling out bedrolls, of which they had packed extras. They had tents, too, but the wind was causing them to noisily flap and Hancock ordered that they be used with the stakes as rain and cold covers instead. Once everyone was more or less tucked in, he crawled up into the Black Hawk, nestled in between some of the supplies, and was out in a flash.

Hancock had never had a difficult time getting to sleep when he needed, and he'd become very good at subconsciously knowing what sounds warranted his waking up and which didn't. So, the sun had already risen from beyond the not-too-distant mainland when Sergeant Howell gently shook Hancock's foot to wake him. She looked over her shoulder toward the trail that led north toward the Colony.

"We have company."

 

[AmyRoberts]

March 1st, Year 1 -- 2:40am:

Carla Deering had once again fallen asleep in a chaise lounger on the deck of the Crane House. She was wearing multiple layers including a long, thick woolen coat with a faux-fur lined hood. She clutched an Alpaca fiber blanket around her that was probably keeping her warmer than everything else she had on. Despite the temperature being in the low 50s and the wind being a steady 10 knots with gusts of twice that, she was actually quite warm.

She had been coming here to the building and dock located north of the Colony a couple of nights a week for most of her life. While most of her fellow Colonists enjoyed the end of day view to the west, with the sometimes spectacular oranges and reds of the sun sinking into the sea, Carla had always preferred watching the slowly growing whitish-blue haze of the cities -- what most called light pollution -- from cities as far north as Santa Barbara, as far southeast as San Diego, and, of course, all along in between with the Los Angeles metro area to the northeast.

Of course, things were different now: the great white haze of LA had vanished. The oranges and reds of the setting sun falling upon the landscape was replaced each night by the oranges and reds of an uncountable number of fires burning in every direction for as far as the eye could see. Some of the fires had been started by accidents and others by those with violence in their hearts or sickness in their minds.

But most of them were the result of the Military burning entire neighborhoods in an attempt to stop the spread of the dead. Carla had heard of a weapon called Napalm, but until just recently she'd never seen it used. It was simply horrific. The forest fires of recent years had been frightening enough, but this was hellish, truly hellish.

She'd come here to watch the cities burn each night since it had begun, and in all that time -- despite imagining what it must sound like there -- Carla had only heard the omnipresent sound of the ocean pounding against the rocks around her. Tonight, though, she heard a new sound, a sound that was somehow familiar though she couldn't immediately place it.

Then, her heart skipped a beat as she realized it was the pounding of helicopter blades -- and there were nearing her! Carla threw the blanket from her body and flew to her feet just as two fast moving aircraft passed between her and the shore, silhouetted by the glow of the distant fires. Turning, she hurriedly dragged the chair and blanket to the open door of the Crane Dock building and tossed them inside, then ran for the stairs cut into the cliff's side.

She knew these steps like the back of her hand, and despite having only the light of the moon to guide her, Carla took the incline as easily as would a skilled athlete under the bright shine of the day's sun.

It was 888 feet from the dock to the House by way of the path, and despite much of it being old rotting wooden steps or loose gravel and sand and sometimes having a grade of as much as 40 degrees, Carla reached the House in under three minutes.

As she'd been climbing, she caught the sound of a helicopter flying not down the east coast of the island but up it, to the north. Carla couldn't realize that it was a third helicopter as she had neither seen nor heard it earlier. She believed it was coming back from wherever it had gone. As she reached the house, the helicopter was back again, this time much closer to the Colony's buildings.

"What to we do?" a voice called out to her from just outside the House. "Who are they? What do they want?"

"I don't know," Carla answered, watching and listening to the helicopter as it circled around the compound and then disappeared into the night. She clarified her answer, "I don't know who they are, but I know what they want."

She hurried inside, where she found that most of the Colony's 24 current residents -- excluding those on Cliff Watch for floating dead -- were already assembled or soon to arrive. She ordered those qualified to arm themselves, then ordered the rest to get the children, elderly, and infirmed to their secret hiding place.

"Those of you still here," Carla said, looking to the 14 men and women with rifles, bows, and pistols in their hands, "take up your preassigned positions and watch for our intruders. I will make rounds to you as soon as I can with water and food and further instructions."

The dozen plus two headed out in pairs to positions as far away as the central north-south running ridge and as near as the greenhouse or water filtration plant, both of which were a stone's throw from the House. And despite her greatest fear that the Colony would be attacked and her friends and family killed or worse -- turned into Dead -- nothing came of the uninvited arrival.

As the sun was rising in the east the next morning, Carla headed toward the invaders' encampment in the south of the island, determined to get answers. She and four others -- all armed and all wary -- came to a stop a couple of hundred feet from the nearest of three, not two helicopters and waited to see what response they would get.

 

[TimTimTyner]

Captain Robert Hancock reached for his rifle but then thought differently. He hopped out of the Black Hawk, unsnapped the holster of his 9mm, and asked his second in command, "The Watches?"

Sergeant Major Glory Howell reported that all four two-man watches were aware of the visitors and that the three two-man teams to the west, north, and east had line-of-sight view of the islanders. "Baker and Nguyen are in a crevice at two-nine-zero degrees. Said our visitors passed within 90 feet of them without seeing them, so I told them to keep their heads down and keep off the radio. I brought Connors and Gupta up from the south cliff."

She nodded Hancock's attention to the two men who were positioned behind the other Black hawk, their rifles before them as they watched the greeting party through the scopes.

"Weapons on safety, everyone," Hancock said into his radio, stressing, "On safety! I don't want anyone getting excited and starting a war. The first one of you that shoots their weapon without direct orders from me, I toss'em over a cliff. Confirm!"

By procedure, each of the watches reported confirmation, followed by verbal responses or nods from the others in the landing zone. Hancock looked to his second in command and said, "Well, let's go meet the neighbors."

The two of them headed toward their visitors, walking slowly to allow the five islanders to get closer to the landing zone, just in case. When Hancock and Howell stopped when there were about 50 feet between them and the other five. He noted the weapons they carried; they were hunting rifles as opposed to the assault style rifle Howell and the others behind the pair carried.

Howell's fully automatic rifle would deal much more damage and death to the group before him than the pump, semi-auto, and break action weapons they carried would do to to him and Howell. But then, at close quarters like this, the advantage typically went to the first to fire. Hancock was determined not to give these people any reason to fire upon him, his Sergeant, or any of his other Company members.

"My name is Captain Robert Hancock, " he began with a smile, adding his Battalion and Company identifiers as well. His left hand rested upon his weapons belt as his right dangled outside his unfastened pistol holster in such a way that if he had to draw his weapon, he could simultaneously lift the flap and grab the 9mm. With a sincere tone, he continued, "I'm sorry that we just dropped in on you like this, without notice and without invitation, but our camp was overrun in the night by the Dead and -- with a chopper suffering mechanical issues -- we had no where else to go."

Hancock hesitated just a moment, then added, "I should also say that I have six armed men -- five actually, and one woman -- hiding in rain gullies to the west, north, and east, watching us talking. Please, don't misunderstand: the watches were set to look for the Dead, not the living. They aren't there to keep me and mine safe from you: they're there to keep me, mine, and you safe from the dead."

Reaching up slowly to his radio, Hancock ordered, "Watches rise. Show yourself. We're all friends here."

He looked in the three directions he'd noted and, over the next few seconds, saw all 6 of the watch standers rise and present themselves. Looking back to the woman who he was assuming was in charge simply from her demeanor, Hancock asked, "And you are?"

 

[AmyRoberts]

As the uniformed man and woman headed out from the helicopters, Carla began forward again, followed by her four companions. When they got closer, she could tell from the insignia and the body language that the male half of the pair approaching was the leader of the group. He stopped about 50 feet short of her group, but after half looking back and whispering for the others to stop where they were, she continued forward until there was only 15 feet between her and the pair.

He introduced himself as she was still studying him, then explained about the uninvited appearance.

"My name is Carla Deering," she said when asked. "I am Matriarch of the Colony. Leader, as well as friend and family to one and all."

He explained also about the hidden gunmen, who then rose from seemingly all directions. Carla's lips spread in a bit of a smirk before she explained, "Yes, we know about your lookouts."

She half turned and said to one of the women, "Paula. Signal them all clear. Tell them to reveal themselves but to stay put until we have concluded our business here and I know just what our new friends want from us."

Behind her, one of the women slung her scoped hunting rifle, pulled a pair of semaphore flags from a pack on her back, turned away from the uninvited guests, and began signaling to no one in particular.

Carla said to Robert, "Captain, right? Two silver bars is Captain? You might want to radio your people not to panic."

She watched the Army officer for his reaction when behind her -- to the west, north, and east -- as people in pairs or alone began standing from their hiding places, some of which were very near to Hancock's own troops. She smiled with pride as she informed him, "Most of us have spent our entire lives on Santa Barbara Island. We know this place like the backs of our hands."

She looked about herself, then back to Hancock as she asked with a serious tone and less of a happy smile, "Now, why are you here, and when are you leaving?"

 

[TimTimTyner]

"Yes, we know about your lookouts."

Hancock smiled, then chuckled at learning that his watches had themselves been watched through the night. After she explained about growing up on the island, Hancock admitted, "I'm impressed."

"Now, why are you here, and when are you leaving?"

"Actually," Hancock began, pausing to consider his words. "I'm thinking that maybe we'd like to stay around for a while."

Again, he hesitated. He noticed a rise in tension in the body language of one of the Colonists, followed by his own Sergeant whispering ever so slightly, "Captain?"

Hancock turned slowly to Howell, reached out casually, and released the magazine from her rifle. He told her quietly, "Store it away. You don't need it right now."

Turning back to the Colony's Matriarch, Hancock said with a calm tone, "I'm not telling you we're staying because we have more guns than you."

Hancock looked between the armed Colonists, clarifying, "Bigger guns any way. My point is, I'm asking ... may we stay around for a while?"

Again he looked around at the Colonists, then back at his own people gathered about the choppers. To Carla, Hancock said, "We can contribute. Security, obviously. But more than that. We have a Doctor. People with mechanical skills. Hell, we got an accountant if you need your books done. She's better with hand-to-hand to be honest. Kicked my ass in a sparring bout once upon a time."

He shrugged playfully, saying, "Or you can tell us to leave. And we will."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Carla thanked the Captain for his compliment of her Colonists' skills. When she saw him essentially disarm his Sergeant, Carla looked back to her own people and nodded at them to appear less threatening. One after another, they hesitantly moved their firearms to neutral positions.

Hancock said that his people could contribute, offering a Doctor, mechanics, and even a number cruncher. Carla laughed. "We're a 501c3 nonprofit, so, we have a CPA. Or at least, we did."

Looking off toward the mainland and the fires still burning across the LA Basin, Carla murmured, "Not that the IRS is going to be sending anyone to audit us anytime soon."

She looked back to Hancock, studying him for a moment. Carla was conflicted on what to tell the man. The Colony was nearly self sufficient, producing -- growing, raising, fishing, and hunting -- 95% of its food, capturing or desalinating all of its water, and then simply doing without all the trappings of the modern, civilized, consumer world.

They'd even had their own Physician's Assistant until just 9 months ago when they lost her to breast cancer. Carla could see the advantage of having a Doctor on the island now during this horrific time in the world. Ironically, while they hadn't needed military-class security in the past, the times were a'changin': twice already they'd had to urge trespassers away with gunfire: once was very early in the mayhem when a pair of ultralights tried to land and Carla ordered warning shots that sent them flying back toward the mainland; and the other was just days ago when a boatload of people tried to unload at the Crane Dock and a literal fire fight erupted.

No one was hurt in either incident as Carla's people had had the advantage of position and she'd ordered her own shooters not to hit any people, only to frighten them away. But aside from living people, there was a situation with Floaters. The Channel Islands National Park, of which Santa Barbara Island was the smallest of the isles, had a unique situation with the ocean currents, the result of which was that an ever increasing number of floating Dead were passing by and some times reaching the island.

So far, none of the Dead had been able to scale the rocky shores of SBI, most of which were steep cliffs. A few had found footing in some of the many coves about the island, but they'd been dispatched by Carla or one of a handful of Colonists who'd been comfortable with the task.

Serious rock climbing enthusiasts had in the past tried to access SBI's plateau via the cliffs. But it had only ended with them sitting in an LA County Sheriff's Department jail cell for trespassing. Since the end of the world, no one had yet tried to climb the rocks to safety and Carla didn't expect anyone to try as there were simply easier islands to get to and get on to than Santa Barbara.

The issue with simply telling Hancock he and his people could stay was related to that self sufficiency the island maintained. Most of the people living here didn't want to have anything to do with the mainland or its people. That was the reason most of them were here in the first place. And they weren't going to want 30 some odd new people -- military people with guns -- to suddenly be added to the population, particularly since it was very unlikely that the food stores that were available now or would be available at the end of year harvest would support a doubling of the population.

Hancock said, "Or you can tell us to leave. And we will."

Carla contemplated another moment, then said with a firm tone, "You may stay here, right here, on this spot ... until I talk to my people and get their pulse on the situation."

She looked to the Sergeant for her reaction but saw nothing; Howell had a poker face that would see her winning the big prize at the World Poker Tournament if she played. To Hancock, Carla said, "Is there anything you need? You have food, water? If not, we'll leave you to yourselves, but I need you to know that we will have people watching you."

 

[TimTimTyner]

"You may stay here, right here, on this spot..." Carla told Hancock, "until I talk to my people and get their pulse on the situation."

Howell's expression may not have changed -- and yes, Carla was right about that poker face -- but Hancock smiled, pointed his extended fingers at the ground beneath him before correcting himself with thumbs jerked over his shoulders, and said, "Right here. Or, at least, back there."

She asked if there was anything they needed, to which Hancock immediately said, "No, ma'am. We've got everything we need." He wanted Carla to be reassured that they would not be a burden on her Colony's resources, which -- ironically -- was exactly the thought she had had without his having to ask. Smiling a bit, he asked playfully, "Is there anything you need?"

He listened to her response, then asked, "Do you want me to pull in my watches? If you have a need for additional security, we're here to help."

If she said yes, Hancock would have his XO work something out with Carla; if she said no, he would bid the Matriarch farewell and return with Howell to the LZ. Either way, a minute later he was surrounded by his people in between the helicopters, giving order to make camp. He assigned people to create rain catchers and others to check the terrain and accessible cliffs for edible food, namely birds and their eggs.

"Anyone know if March is laying season?" Hancock asked, not really expecting an answer. "Well, someone check. We certainly don't want to fuck around with any endangered species, so someone get the computer hooked up via the SatDish and check Wikipedia."

That got a laugh, of course: one of the Reservists was a part time University professor, and in his classes if a student ever cited that online information source in a paper, said student was looking for a new class with a different instructor.

With all of the assignments given, Hancock said, "Let's get to it."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Carla approved of the Captain's humor, hoping that it would make easy their relationship assuming one formed. When Hancock asked if there was anything the islanders needed from the Company, she hesitated; she was having the same thoughts Hancock was having about leaning on the other group to soon or too heavily.

"You say you have a Doctor?" she asked. Behind her, one of the two women growled something low and incomprehensible, but Carla politely waved her off. "We have a couple of health issues that should be looked at if you could spare your Doctor for a couple of hours."

They made arrangements, which included an armed escort of two for the Doctor. Carla said, "I'll let ya'll get settled in. Say, noon?"

Hancock confirmed, then asked, "Do you want me to pull in my watches? If you have a need for additional security, we're here to help."

Carla didn't want to offend the man or his people, but she also didn't want strangers trained in killing to be wandering about her island. She looked off to where the Watches had been set to the east and west, then said, "I'd be okay with you resetting your watches as you had them. But, we've been protecting this island for half a century without help and we're all still alive."

They made their farewells, and Carla and the others turned back for the colony. She had Paula signal the sneaky ones to pull back to the House, knowing that once they got there she would redeploy some of them to keep an eye on their new neighbors.

There was, of course, great excitement at the House when Carla returned. She gave them all an explanation of the newcomers, as well as of her giving them permission to remain for now. Someone spouted off that that wasn't her right, despite being Matriarch, to which Carla countered, "It's my right to give them permission for now. But yes, you're right, we do have to vote on this situation."

The Community Room of the House exploded again with conversation, debate, argument, or whatever you wanted to call it. Carla raised a hand high over her head, and in just a few seconds -- as was the respectful custom in the Colony -- the room went silent.

"We don't know these people, and they are military," she began. She spelled out the pros and cons, the benefits and the dangers. She also told them that the Commander of the Company had volunteered his Doctor for a House Call and that she would be here at noon to see anyone who felt they had the need. Then, in her formal, Matriarchal way, Carla said, "I make the proposal that we allow our visitors to remain for two nights, then vote on whether they can remain longer. Hands?"

This was the way of the Colony, a peaceful proposal made, followed by a peaceful voting up or down. Several hands went up immediately; Carla recognized most of them as people who either wanted or needed to see the Doctor or simply felt the addition of an army unit to the Colony was a great benefit. Slowly but surely, though, most of the rest of the Colonists raised their hands until finally, about three-quarters of the adults had given their nod to the proposal.

"The proposal passes," Carla pronounced with a smile. She glanced about the faces, then said, "Okay, so, lets everyone get back to our tasks. I want to speak with the Perimeter Patrols before you leave. And anyone who wants to see the Doctor, please put your name on the white board."

She watched people disperse, spoke to the PP members about keeping an eye on the newcomers, then headed to the kitchen to get something to eat. One person after another came to her wanting to speak about the visitors, but Carla really didn't have anything more to tell them than what she'd already said.

Half an hour before noon, Carla sent two of her people down to the camp in the south to escort the Doctor and her own escort back. She smiled when she saw that the Captain himself had escorted the Doctor. "Welcome to the Colony."

 

[TimTimTyner]

(OOC: Captain Robert Hancock's profile)


"Welcome to the Colony."

Robert Hancock nodded his thanks, responding, "Thank you for the invite." He gestured to the woman standing next to him. "This is Doctor Peterson."

"Connie," the woman wearing Major insignia corrected as she reached a hand out to their hostess. She nodded her head toward the Captain and said, "I outrank him, so if I say you can call me Connie, you can call me Connie."

The Doctor looked around and asked, "So, who's my first victim?"

The House actually had its own Clinic, though, it was little more than a converted bedroom with lots of shelving for supplies, both medical related and otherwise. Hancock was no doctor, but it appeared as if the Colonists were fairly well stocked. Of course, he was still to learn that there were 25 of them in total.

Doc Peterson, as most of the Company had taken to calling her, got to work: she say a woman who was 8 months pregnant, a girl with severe allergies, a boy who'd fallen on jagged rocks just this morning and suffered abrasions up and down one side, and others.

Meanwhile, Hancock was both explaining to Carla the Company's situation and asking her about the Colony's situation, too:

"How are you on medical supplies? Food? Water?"

"Have you had any problems with the dead? Being out here on an island must feel pretty safe, but I've heard stories of the Dead on boats or downed planes in the ocean floating up on beaches. Have you seen that?"

"How did you end up out here, Ms. Deering? Do I call you that, or Carla, or Matriarch? This is quite an existence out here, separate from the world."

Hancock was casual in his questioning, not wanting to sound like he was interrogating Carla.

"Me myself, I'm what you'd call a die hard dogface, Career Army," he told her when the time came. "Joined up right out of high school. Went in as enlisted Mechanized Infantry, put in 8 years. I'd planned on going back home to Oregon, to help my folks on the ranch. My family's from Bend, in Central Oregon, just east of the Cascades."

Hancock hesitated a moment as the emotion of what he was about to say threatened to overwhelm him. He continued, "I'd lost a younger brother to a drug overdose. Then my parents died. Our ranch house caught fire. The Fire Marshall said they were lucky, actually. They died of the smoke without the flames ever getting to them, so, at least there's that. There was just a little more than a year between my brother and parents' deaths, and about two after than, my big sister died in a car crash.

"Pretty much left me alone at that point," he went on, "so, fuck it, I decided to stay in the Army, went to OCS, and became an officer. Left Active Duty, joined the Reserves, and been here ever since."

He looked to Carla and -- not really thinking about it -- let his eyes drop to her body. She was a good looking woman, just the type he'd hit on after a couple of confidence building drinks, only to likely be rejected because he was too old, not good looking enough, or military. It still didn't prevent Hancock from imagining the two of them getting sweaty and noisy in one of those huts down south of the main grouping of buildings.

He was sort of hoping that maybe she was thinking the same thing about him, regarding the looks. Hancock had just recently turned 45. He was 6'4" and 200 pounds of solidly built, muscular man. Sure, he had a light layer of padding over his torso, but he was just as strong and enduring in the field or in the bed as he had been at 35 or even 25. Some said he looked like Daniel Craig, only heavier and more muscular.

Hancock's lips spread in a devilish smirk as he finished, "Not married. Just saying."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Carla took the Doctor's hand, listened to her explanation about how she outranked the Captain, then asked with a bit of a devilish tone to her inquiry, "So, why are you not in charge of, what did you call it, the Company?"

Major Connie Peterson laughed, answering, "I'm not a Basic Branch Officer. I can't be given command of a combat unit, only a medical unit. Which is probably a good thing, because if I was in command of the Company, I'd be ordering more daily fitness and less beer."

Connie gave Robert Hancock a friendly shove, asking, "So, who's my first victim?"

"Come this way, Doctor," Carla said, respecting the title. She led the other woman, followed by the Captain and the Colonist escort -- who she quickly dismissed -- to what had once been a bedroom. "Originally, there were 5 bedrooms. After the second smaller residence was built for an aunt and uncle of mine and after my father's death -- he established the Colony, by the way -- I moved out to the other house. By then, my aunt and uncle -- they were actually greats -- had also passed. They were rather ancient all the time I'd known them. You know how kids see old people."

Connie laughed, commenting, "I'm the youngest of my grandparents' grandchildren, so yeah, I know all about how everyone seem older."

Carla showed the Doctor the facilities and all they had to offer, and Connie began opening and unloading her two medical kits as appropriate. When she was ready, the line that had already begun forming outside began making its way in, one patient at a time.

Connie was horrified to learn that Yanna, the island's 19 year old, Russian-American ornithologist, hadn't seen a doctor even once during her 8 months of pregnancy. She'd initially been afraid of admitting who the father was -- something she was still hiding from Carla -- and then was afraid that her bird research project would be suspended if she had to go to the mainland for the final months of her pregnancy.

She hid her growing belly well, particularly since she was only 5'5" and 120 pounds when she got knocked up. Once her state was discovered, an appointment was made with an Ob-Gyn in LA. But as they waited for the appointment, the Dead Rising plague began and the trip was obviously canceled.

Connie's second patient was a 12 year old boy name Kendall who'd fallen on jagged rocks while hunting birds and cut himself badly on his legs, arms, and chest. He was going to be fine, the Doc reassured him, but he was going to have some nasty scars. She told him as she stitched him up, "Chicks did scars. Do you know what that means?"

He nodded, blushed, and laughed, asking, "Do you have to cover up the stitches with Band-Aids? I want the other kids to see them."

Connie covered them to keep them clean, but promised Kendall that he'd be able to show them off in a couple of days. She dealt with a girl suffering hay fever allergies; an elderly man with heart issues; a second woman who thought she, too, might be pregnant; and more. It was a bit of a joy to deal with regular people again, rather than the gung-ho, tough as nails soldiers she dealt with every day.

Meanwhile, as they took a walk around the House and the grounds surrounding it, Hancock was asking Carla about herself, her people, the island, and their lives here.

"How are you on medical supplies? Food? Water?"

"Fair," she answered vaguely. "The island's soil isn't the most naturally fertile, of course, but we've worked on it for decades to improve it. We've got the greenhouse there, and down the way we've got the garden. The net keeps the birds out of it, and we've dealt with the rodents as appropriate. Our only real concern for those two buildings are the winds. We've had to rebuild a dozen times, but each time, we make it stronger. Still, Mother Nature always wins in the end. If she doesn't want us to grow our own food here, she won't let us."

"Have you had any problems with the dead?"

He spoke about how the currents between the mainland and the Channel Islands tended to bring all sorts of buoyant objects from the coast to Santa Barbara Island. Carla agreed, "Yeah, we've seen some of them floating up to the cliffs. There's only two or three places where they regularly get out of the water, but they can't get any farther from the sea than a few meters. We found out we could make noise from other places and draw them right back into the water. Let'em be San Diego's problem. That's where the current goes from here."

Hancock then got personal, asking, "How did you end up out here, Ms. Deering? Do I call you that, or Carla, or Matriarch? This is quite an existence out here, separate from the world."

Carla explained that her great grandfather, Howard Deering, had bought Santa Barbara Island in the late 1930s, just before many of the Channel Islands were incorporated into a National Monument. Howard had promised his contacts in the Federal Government that he would build, staff, and maintain a Watch Station on the island to look for Japanese submarines, ships, planes should war break out between the two nations. Sure enough, a handful of years later Pearl Harbor occurred.

"After the war, Howard's son, Richard, my grandfather, established the Colony. He was a hippie before the word hippie existed, I think. Howard hated the way Richard lived his life. But he only had the one son, and back then you didn't pass your estate to your daughters, so, Richard got the island, demolished the Watch Station -- which had long been abandoned, of course -- and built the Colony."

She looked back over her shoulder, saying, "This isn't the original house, of course. It burned in the 70s and was replaced with this one. The Colony started with family, then friends, then nature lovers and even scientists. We took in a few refugees over the years from wars, famines, economic strife, you name it.

"There're 25 of us today, 26 soon with the birth of Yanna's baby. We grow or raise enough food that we only have to buy more from the mainland every three or four years. We fish, we hunt. We have a special permit to kill seals and seal lions when they become too numerous, which lately they have been. The commercial fishermen applaud us for that, but we don't do it for them. We do it for the health of the herd."

She looked to Hancock, asking, "And what about you?"

He spoke about being a die hard dogface and about how he'd lost his family.

"I'm sorry to hear about that, Captain," Carla told him. "I'm sort of in the same situation regarding family. So, these people, they are my family."

She caught him giving her form another glance; yes, she'd caught him checking her out earlier. Carla wasn't a runway model, but she looked pretty good, in and out of her clothes. She was 5 foot 8 inches tall and 130 pounds, with a tight, curvy 36C-26-38 figure that was, like his, strong and muscular beneath a comfortable layer of what her mother had terms winter warmth

She had a head of long, curly, fiery red hair, deep green eyes, and fair skin that was speckled all about with tiny freckles that spread well under lasting sunshine. In the days when she'd been sexually active, she kept her body shaved everywhere but on her head. But, it had been, what, six years since the fingers of anyone other than herself had driven her to heights of euphoria.

"Not married," Hancock said playfully, adding, "Just saying."

"Good to know," she said with a laugh. "Maybe if the others don't vote you off the island tomorrow, that might be useful information, but, for now..."

She let that topic die with another laugh. "Come on. I want to show you something."

She took Hancock on a slow walk north to the Crane Dock, explaining that this was the only real way onto the island. "It didn't get used much before the Dead, and it probably won't get used much now either. Actually, the crane's motor seized a couple of years ago, so we've been loading and unloading by hand anyway."

A couple of the kids joined them after seeing them heading west for what everyone just called the Ridge. It ran down much of the middle of the island, north and south, and when they reached the top, they could see the peace and quiet of the Pacific Ocean and many of the other Channel Islands, as well as the mayhem of the still burning coastal cities of Southern California.

"We watched as they fire bombed LA," she said nodding off to the east. "We can't see the city from here, obviously. Too far. But the flashes and the fires. We knew what they were. When it gets dark tonight, you'll see'em. What am I saying, you were there. I'm not telling you anything you don't know."

She looked to the south, asking, "Will you show me your camp? Introduce me to some of your people?"

 

[TimTimTyner]

Robert Hancock was pleased with how free Carla felt about giving him a tour of the Colony. He'd been afraid she might want to keep as much secret as possible, fearing that he and the Doc were surveilling it for occupation.

"The island's soil isn't the most naturally fertile..." she told him, showing him the greenhouse and gesturing off toward the net covered garden that Hancock had only seen from a distance on the walk here. He chuckled about her views on mother nature. "If she doesn't want us to grow our own food here, she won't let us."

"I had a college instructor," Hancock told her, "a former Environmental Engineer who'd worked on dams, levies, and the like. His attitude was that man could try to stop her all he wanted, but in the end -- his words -- 'Mother Nature always wins.'"

After she told him it was okay to call her Carla, she spoke of how her family had come to own Santa Barbara Island. He found it interesting how she had come from what his father would have called rapers of the environment, Big Timber. Actually, she had come from a hippie; Carla's own words. So, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised that she was Matriarch of such a community.

"Will you show me your camp?" she asked. "Introduce me to some of your people?"

"Of course," Hancock said without hesitation. Doing so, he thought, only increased the odds that Carla and her Colonists would decide to let the Company remain. "It would be my pleasure."

He waved a hand southward, and they returned to the trail that led from the top of the ridge to the south end of the island. In the hours since he'd been gone, the soldiers and civilians had erected the rest of the tents, fully unloaded the helicopters, and assembled facilities for cooking, showers, and more. One the sides of most of the tents, water resistant canvas containers were set up to capture some of the rain that they were hoping would be falling soon. A latrine had been dug off in the distant, allowing for the direction of the dominant winds.

Sergeant Major Glory Howell had been informed by the West Watch -- who Hancock had already introduced to Carla -- that the pair were approaching, and by the time her CO and the Matriarch arrived, the troops were formed up in two ranks, one behind the other. They snapped to attention on the Sergeant Major's command.

"And I didn't even have to order this," Hancock said playfully to his guest. He ordered them at ease, then -- starting at the nearest end -- commanded, "Name, rank, rating, Branch of Service, specialty if you have one, and what you think you can offer the Colony of Santa Barbara Island if we are allowed to remain."

"Baker, Terrance! Corporal!" the first soldier called out after snapping back to attention. He continued onward, saying he was a mechanic, that he was from the California National Guard, and that his specialty was fixing things other people break and can't fix. He broke discipline by shifting his set eyes from the open sky before him to their guest as he said with his same, formal tone, "And what I have to offer the Colony of Santa Barbara Island is the ability to fix anything that you and your people have broken and can't fix, too, ma'am!"

He looked back ahead again, then shifted to the at-ease stance, and without hesitation, the next soldier in line repeated the same routine with her own details. When the last man in the front rank had finished, Howell gave a command: both ranks snapped to attention; the front rank did a left face; the rear rank marched through the gaps with four quick, short steps; the entire Company returned to parade rest; and the procedure with introductions began once more.

The maneuver wasn't official Regular Army parade marching protocol. It was something one of the more senior soldiers had taught the others for their first meeting with their new CO. Even though he'd seen it before, Hancock was still impressed with it.

By the time they reached the last soldier, more than a dozen and a half ratings -- the Army word for job titles -- had been announced, and while some of the soldiers had been a bit slow or vague on what they could offer Carla and her people, Hancock still felt that enough had been said to convince the Matriarch that the Colony was better off with them than without them.

"You're probably wondering how you're going to feed 32 more mouths," Hancock told Carla after he'd dismissed the troops, "and you have every reason to wonder that. What I can say to that is this: my Quartermaster says we have enough food for the two and a half dozen of us for almost two months, we can offer you labor in your own agricultural projects if you need it, we can fish and hunt, and -- if necessary, and to be honest, this was a plan anyway -- we can visit the mainland with the two working aircraft to glean from whatever stores we might be able to find.

"The base we were on was overrun," he continued, "which means that no ones going to be pillaging the supplies we left behind for days, possibly weeks or months. We have already made some plans to return to the base, and then there are the Costco, the Walmart, the, Target, each of which is just outside the base and overrun and, possibly, still stuffed to some degree with food, water, all kinds of stuff you could use out here."

 

[AmyRoberts]

"Baker, Terrance! Corporal!" a soldier called out, beginning what Carla was an impressive display of discipline, organization, and training. When the last of the soldiers had given his information, Carla told Hancock and then told the men and women assembled, "That's really something. You people, you are really something. I'm very impressed. And not meaning to sound grabby..."

She stepped up closer to one of the women who'd identified her skills as including an understanding of desalination systems and said, "If you were willing and if the Captain would permit it, I'd like to borrow you for a couple of hours or the day or for however long it takes for you to get our main desal' plant back on line."

Carla could see in the woman's face a willingness and turned to look to Hancock. "What do you think, Captain? I'm sure you and your people could benefit from a bit of fresh drinking water..."

Turning back to the others, she smiled and added, "...and shower water?"

There was a happy roll of responses through the Company that made Carla laugh. She verified with the Captain that the request was approved, then looked to the Company again and asked, "When was the last time ya'll had a fresh green salad?"

"I'd rather have a freshly roasted chicken!" someone called out, garnering a great deal of agreement with one other saying, "I'm 'bout sick of rations."

"I might be able to arrange something better than rations," Carla said, looking to the Captain again for his agreement. Once that was settled, she offered her hand out to the desal' expert again, saying, "Carla Deering, and you are?"

"Ridge, Tanya," the Corporal said.

"Well, Ridge, Tanya," Carla said with a smile, "let me show you our desal' plant."

The Colony's Matriarch thanked Hancock again as Tanya went off to get some tools. After the pair had headed out, Sergeant Major Glory Howell stepped up to Hancock, asking, "What are the prospects of her letting us stay. And -- and I hope this isn't out of line, Captain -- what are we going to do if she says we have to leave?"

She looked over her shoulder at the dispersing Company and then said quietly to Hancock, "There are rumblings among the troops, Captain. Some are saying that they aren't going to sit still if we are booted off this rock. I'm not one to worry about things that are unlikely to be a problem. Captain, I'm worried."

 

[TimTimTyner]

OOC for any followers to the story:

We had intended this to be more "table top" style role play game than story telling role play. We kind of got deep into the story telling and got away from game part. We are going to get back to it with my next post, which probably won't be posted until tomorrow.

If you are following the story, as opposed to simply looking at the first post to see what's what, then moving on, and if you are enjoying what you are reading, Amy and I would love to get a PM telling us what you like, what you don't, and -- if applicable -- what you would like to see. If it's something we can do, we will.

PMs only, please. Please don't post your praise, criticisms, or suggestions here or in the OOC. Thank you so ever much.

Tim