The ride to the compound Rory mentioned was long and mostly uneventful. As Eladio followed their van in his Winnie, he saw Lou lean out the passenger side window to pick off the occasional stray zombie. But the closer they got to the compound, the more Lou leaned out, and the more zombies he picked off.
Zombie activity at the compound gate was surprisingly heavy for such an out-of-the-way location. The survivors inside, Eladio thought. The stiffs must sense them beyond the gates. Rory laid on the horn and slowed as they approached. Eladio watched on as a number of men, their arms armored in PVC piping, marched out of the gates to clear a path with their batons, machetes and baseball bats of both the wood and aluminum variety. One guard even used a nail-embedded 2x4.
Once inside, they stopped their vehicles and the guards closed the gates behind them. Eladio took in the compound, which basically amounted to a trailer park surrounded by a ten-foot-high security fence re-enforced with steel sheeting and topped with some rather painful looking razor wire. Rory said it would take a howitzer to get through the thing and, luckily for them, howitzers were hard to come by. Not to mention that stiffs don't know how to aim and pull a trigger.
Compound denizens rushed out to welcome Rory and Lou back home. Rory was telling the truth; there had to be at least two hundred people here. As the two men hugged their respective families, Rory introduced Eladio. "Okay, listen up," he began. "As you can see we found us another survivor. He doesn't say much, but he's a good guy. Everybody, this is Eladio. Eladio, this is everybody."
Eladio looked across the multitude of faces, all smiling and welcoming -- except for one. A man. Roughly Eladio's age. A mop of gray hair and a wild, salt-and-pepper beard. And a most unwelcoming sneer...