by R.A. Neely
***
Greg continued leading his people north, looking for a place to establish themselves. It was slow going as gas was becoming scarce. In addition to clearing the roads, they had to spend a significant portion of their day siphoning fuel for their caravan. They also had to deal with car trouble. Some of the vehicles were overheating despite Gio's best efforts to keep everything in working condition. The delays weren't all wasted time however. They size of their group began drawing people to their banner and they were able to increase the size of their fighting forces. Every day, Greg and James put the group through rigorous training, both in krav maga and firearms training. As the weeks passed, their ragtag group began to resemble an actual military.
As they made their way through Wisconsin, Greg began having the group park for several days at a time. This allowed more time for training as well as hunting to supplement their dwindling food supply. During this time, Greg would also send out scouts to look for survivors. In this way, Greg was able to increase his budding army to over one hundred fighting men. They were poorly armed; most had whatever weapons they had managed to scrape together during the early days of the Collapse but Greg was encouraged. They were getting trained and would be a force to be reckoned with once they had some proper gear. The men were also fiercely loyal. Many of the men had come with their families, be it family they had from before the Collapse or family they had adopted after. They were more than grateful to serve the man who was giving them regular food and a place to stay.
As the weeks passed, there was little resemblance to the ragtag group of survivors that had fled the trailer park. Walking through the camp one would detect a tangible sense of order. Nearly every hand was set to a task, the necessities of survival left little room for idleness. This order carried over to every aspect of camp life, from the way the tents were erected to the placement of latrines. The group had several military veterans to thank for that level of organization. The camp had been haphazard at first. People had set up their tents wherever they found room. The veterans had suggested the camp would benefit from being set up in a more organized fashion. Greg had ordered it implemented and had been surprised when he noticed an improvement in morale.
Walking through the camp, he received a crisp salute from the men on duty. The men had been resistant to the idea of a traditional salute and had started using a closed right fist over the heart. Greg wondered if some of the solidarity was due to their new attire. The scavengers had been really successful during their journey and one thing they had acquired was a uniform of sorts for the guard. It consisted of black cargo pants along with matching boots, shirt, and jacket. On their right shoulder, each wore a circular patch. It consisted of a stylized "GG" over a field of white. The men had taken to calling themselves the Gregorian Guard. Greg had been amused at first but had quickly stopped when he saw how much pride they took in the name.
Greg reached the center of the camp and looked at the seat of their fledgling government. It was just several tents sewn together but it got the job done. Greg felt a sense of pride as he looked at it. They'd done this, they were building something from the ashes. Greg nodded to the guards on duty and stepped inside.
