<div style="text-align: center">《 Miles &amp; The Wilson Brothers 》<br/>
Location:<i> Peering at the KOA campground from a hill to the South</i><br/>
Addressing:<i> Themselves</i>​</div><br/>"I'm jus' saying that they're probably hungry," Josh said, his fingers resting on the feathers of the turkeys they shot. He looked over at his brother Jeb, older by three years and taller by six inches. Even so, Jeb was lanky and lean, weighing just about as much as his shorter, stockier, more optimistic sibling. He saw the outcasts as an opportunity for them to make new acquaintances and maybe even build up their circle of influence. Plus…there looked like there had been a few women in the group.<br/><br/>"You start feeding them and they'll be expecting it every day." Jeb brushed at the tip of his nose with a fisted hand. He didn't like the idea of approaching strangers. What if they followed the brothers home, like little stray dogs? They'd be all into their crop of MJ in no time and expecting fresh meat every day. If he wanted to have that much nuisance in his life, he would have gotten married.<br/><br/>Nearby, Miles lowered his binoculars and peered over his shoulder at the pair. He was laying on his belly, his body obscured by the shrub he crawled through. "Will you two quit your bickering?" he hissed. His earthy brown eyes flicked from one face to the other until the pair stopped smacking each other with the backs of their hands and focused on him. "How you two ever survived the apocalypse is beyond me," he swore, "now keep it down so I can see straight."<br/><br/>Again he turned towards the camp, then glassed over the land between the waterfront refugee camp and the highway. As he followed I-2 along the two-lane route, he spotted movement down the way. "What the hell?" he muttered, adjusting the binoculars and squinting against the darkening light. A white work truck with "Morris Lumber" stickered on the side and the wide flat bed on the back that he knew well. "Fuck."<br/><br/>Rising on an elbow he looked back at the archers. "You two - looks like someone from the lumberyard is about to go spoil the camping party. You best go down and warn them. Just don't get dead."<br/><br/>Josh's face lit up. His brother wasn't as thrilled. They'd be crossing about 700 feet of sloped ground in the dimming light, and unless whoever was driving recognized the two, they were as likely to be shot as to be acknowledged.<br/><br/>Nonetheless, a suggestion from Miles was anything but - a few minutes later they were hailing the truck by the side of the road.