Sitting down with his plate and water bottle, Steve started wolfing down the pancake. A small drop of maple syrup sweetened the hurriedly made pancake. They had pancakes for three weeks straight, now that they ran out of bacon and with the waffle iron broken.

A man set down across the table from him. Steven glanced and his sausage flopped from his fork. The man across the table was new? Like really new?

“So you're Steven Weller?” The man asked, as he grabbed a fork and used it on his plate. The man was wearing a heavy raincoat and had the largest beard Steven had seen in months. “Hello. Nice to meet you. I...”

“I'm guessing you a loner?” Steven cut in. “Or was a loner. Did you finally wise up and make the journey then?”

“Ah. Yes, you could say that.” The man said as he played with his food. “I was told you were the captain of the fourth gatherer's team. The smallest team I hear.”

“Why are you asking?” Steven nearly grunted it out. He hated when people talked about his small gatherer's team. It couldn't be called a team with only three members, including himself. But no one wanted to work under him. “Yes I am and yes it's small. If you're finished can you leave me to my food?”

“Well I just wanted to meet every captain to be sure if I wanted to be a gatherer.” the man said, as he took a bite of the pancake. “Wow is that maple syrup? Hasn't had any of that in months. Anyway, I just wanted to ask around because I wanted to join your team. I have a knack for finding things. But I liked working alone, so your team seemed the best choice?”

“Wait really? You want to be on my gatherer's team, just to be with fewer people?” Steven asked, shunned? “What would be the point of having a team then? I don't understand Mr. Ah, what was your name by the way?”

“Hank Thinker,” Hank said, as he took a sip of water. “You can call me Hank or Mr. Thinker.”

“Hank, I see where you going with this,” Steve said, putting down his fork. “But I need a team that can work together. Even more so, than the other teams. The other teams have fifteen, sixteen people. I only have two.”

“Wait, two? So including you? That makes three max?” Hank said, with surprise in his eyes. The surprise quickly turns to understanding. “I thought you had five or six people. But two? This is even better. Let me join.”

“Mr thinker, I don't think you understand,” Steven said as he slide his half-finished plate aside. “My team focuses on getting into and out abandoned buildings, as fast as humanly possible. We can't hold an area for long, if not at all. So if you think we're the slow stealthily kind of team you're wrong. We risk our lives every day out there. If you looking for massive hauls go join Tanner's team. I remember he's recruiting.”

“I already spoke to him. I...” Hank said, as he stabbed a sausage and eat it. “Yum? This real pork sausage? Anyway, where was I? I think he's a nice enough guy, but he's a bit too much..” Hank gestured with a hand. “For my liking. Will you please reconsider?”

“Ok, you have one week starting today,” said Steven, as he slide his plate back over. “Meet at the south wall a few minutes after the orange flash. You were a loner right. So you must know what to bring out there. But keep it lighter than normal and any weapons you carry must be checked by me first. Understand?”

“Oh sure. But,” Hank said, clearly stuck on the word. “ But what's this orange flash you're talking about? The defenders at the gate said something about flashing? But they didn't explain it.”

“Oh, they didn't? Huh? I guess we got a lazy defender on watch today.” Steven said as he pointed up. “Well, the flashes are Christmas tree lights we hung on the railing. Each color means something. Orange for midday, blue for sundown, green for the morning, and red for danger.”

“Oh, what's clever. If you used an air horn or a ball you would get a zombie horde on your doorstep every day.” Hank muttered as he glanced up. “I should have thought of that. Out there I had to keep moving around. Because I kept using those tripwire alarms. Almost got me killed a few times.”

As Steven was finishing his pancake and only started on his beans. The Christmas lights above started flashing Red. Mary yelped at her table and everyone went quiet. Hank shifted in his seat as he looked around. He was the only one moving. The tension in the room was building. The red lights kept flashing.

“What's happening?” Hank asked as he turned back to Steven. “Are we in danger?”

“Mr. Thinker do you happen to have a gun on you?” Steven asked as he grabbed his butter knife in a dagger-like manner. Hank nodded. “Good. keep it handy.”

“The red lights. What do they mean truly?” Hank asked as he pulled a small handgun from his coat.

The lights flashed green for a moment and then stopped altogether. The tension was instantly gone. People breathed in and returned to their food. Hank glanced around.

“The red flashing light means the defeaters were fighting a horde just now,” said Steven, as he returned to this beans. “A green flash after a red light. Means the horde is down and all are safe. A blue flash after a red light means there are wounded. While an Orange flash means casualties.”

“Huh? Are there other coded messages in the colors?” Hank asked, as he also returned to his food. “Like a more complex one?”

“ A few more. But those are the important ones.” Steven said. “Now will you let me eat my beans in peace?”