Adrian's mind went straight to the Slavers. "How many tonight?"
"Two northwest. Looks like the same ones we've seen all week, following us. Kyle thinks they'll make contact tomorrow and I agree. "
"Why's that?"
Neil frowned, settling his cover more firmly on his head as thick flurries began to rain down on them. "The other campfire, the one northeast; it's big and more than causing a disturbance. That'll push the smaller group our way out of fear."
Adrian was very glad they had found the equipment shed at Pine Valley untouched. They now had a lot of weapons and defensive choices that most survivors wouldn't. "That's exactly what I hope will happen. How many? "
Neil shook his head, green eyes worried. "Can't tell yet."
"The ones we heard yesterday, screaming for all Americans to die?"
"Yeah... I'm almost sure they're bigger than us."
Adrian nodded. The bad would always gather faster than the good, would always outnumber them too, if things continued as they were. "You think you can find a few more men? Double the guard?"
The trooper looked at his watch. "After the check?"
"Yes."
When Neil offered him the walkie-talkie, Adrian shook his head, thinking the brown hat the cop insisted on wearing fit surprisingly well with the solid black uniforms he had put together for everyone, including himself. His jeans and the eagle on the back of his jacket were necessary concessions. Later, it would be dangerous to announce who he was so openly, but for now, he needed to be easily picked out of a crowd for the comfort, the calmness of his herd. "I'm not here."
Neil keyed the mic, hoping everyone was awake. "Check-in time. Let's try to remember how to count. Point is clear."
Adrian smothered a grin at the tone, glad the non-smoking, non-drinking cop wasn't as tight-assed as he seemed. Getting each shift of men to go in the right order, with the right wording, was frustrating to say the least, especially to the career cop, who was used to the smooth organization of a police radio. The fact that Neil was the last in a very long line of a generational police family made it doubly annoying when someone went out of order, or worse, forgot their area number.
"Area two, nothing here." That was Kyle at the communications center.
"Area three, clear." Doug, at the parking area.
"Four, clear." Chris, at the Mess tent.
There was silence as everyone waited for Danny, the guard on the water tankers. When he didn't check in, Neil frowned. Wasn't there anything that guy could do right? "Check in now, area five!"