The party of nineteen people looked like something from an old war movie, each with cloth tied around their heads to keep the wind and dust out of their faces. The group moved several miles from the sea, always on the hunt for anything of note that could be reclaimed from the wasteland and to help in their survival. Even after ten years of travel, fighting and desperate survival, they still retained a degree of co-ordination and discipline that even a military unit would be proud of. This tenacity and structure was undoubtedly one of the main reasons for their survival in this hellish scenario. A light wind threw up dust into a gently moving cloud of particles that seemed to be able to work their way through any thickness of clothing. As they continued their slow trudge a groaning sound blasted through the quiet landscape. Those in the centre of the column dropped to the ground first and the ones at the front and back moved quickly to join their comrades in the middle. It looked almost like an old medieval army that had been threatened by cavalry.
