Dale was where he always was.
He didn't call it guard duty—just habit. The world had grown too quiet to trust coincidence, so he sat a little higher than the others, binoculars resting against his chest, slowly sweeping the road that led toward the quarry.
That was why he saw them first.
"Vehicles," he said quietly, but clearly.
Andrea looked up at once.
"How many?"
"Three. A pickup. A motorcycle. And another one… unusual." Dale adjusted the binoculars slightly. "They're keeping distance. No rushing. No panic."
Amy stepped closer, squinting.
"That doesn't look like refugees."
"No," Dale agreed. "Watch the spacing. And the way the bike holds the flank."
They stood in silence as the vehicles rolled closer.
"They're armed," Andrea said. "But… not like raiders."
"Weapons aren't out," Dale added. "These are people who don't want to shoot first. But they're ready."
When the convoy slowed and stopped, the tension only sharpened.
The newcomers stepped out calmly. No shouting. No chaos.
Armor—clean. New. Not military.
Weapons—present, but not displayed.
Dale narrowed his eyes.
"The armor's new," he said softly.
"New?" Andrea echoed.
"Untouched. No scuffs. No wear." Dale didn't look away. "They just put it on. It hasn't seen a fight yet."
The way they moved confirmed it—slightly stiff, adjusting to unfamiliar weight, but confident all the same.
"They don't look scared," Amy whispered. "And that's what's scary."
"Because they know where they're going," Dale replied.
His gaze lingered on the one who stepped out last.
"See him?" Dale murmured. "He doesn't check his armor. That means he trusts it. And himself."
Down below, Shane appeared—loud, sharp, all angles and authority. Lori moved to his side.
"Oh no," Amy sighed. "Here we go."
"Watch the newcomers," Dale said. "They're not backing down."
The argument didn't last long.
"They're not trying to stay," Andrea said as the vehicles began to move again. "But they didn't let themselves be ordered around."
"People like that don't look for shelter," Dale said quietly. "They're evaluating places."
Whispers in the Camp
The rumors started before the engines fully faded.
"Did you see their armor?"
"Clean. Like it just came out of a shop."
"Or somewhere worse."
"They haven't fought in it yet."
"But they're about to."
"Shane tried to put them in line."
"And failed."
That part traveled fast.
"They didn't ask to stay."
"But they didn't run either."
Someone noticed details.
"They checked the perimeter while they talked."
"The one with the crossbow never even looked at Shane."
"And the leader—he looked like he was deciding whether this place was worth his time."
By one of the fires, someone whispered:
"They're not refugees."
"They're not raiders either."
No one knew what to call them.
But everyone felt it.
If those people ever decide to stay, this camp will change.
And if they don't—then this place isn't safe, even for them.
End of Interlude