"Who do you think should be in charge of this new colony?" George asked Three Scar directly. If there was to be a confrontation, he wanted it done quickly and not smoldering constantly in the background.

"I would say Kevin is the best candidate as he's been in charge of things so far," Three Scar suggested. Razor nodded in agreement, and Red looked indifferent.

The tension eased slightly as everyone realized a fight wouldn't break out between them. They'd survived the problems of the old world and the horrors of the current one. It seemed as if they'd learned from it and wouldn't be repeating the violent mistakes of the past.

"What is first on the list of things to do?" Three Scar asked, moving the conversation away from any discussion of dissent in the ranks and toward something more productive.

"Let's get enough of the sleeping areas readied for tonight," Kevin suggested. "We can do more in the morning. I think we can all have a good night's sleep knowing the undead and other hazards can't reach us. We are finally safe."

***

Kevin slid down the rope and landed on the deck of the ship, shedding his extra momentum in a shoulder roll across the metal floor. George, Adam, and Three Scar followed quickly behind him.

It had been nearly three months since the survivors had taken shelter in their treetop colony. The undead had started a permanent residence below them, waiting for the living to come down. The jungle floor had become nearly solid with zombies packed together in close proximity.

Kevin had wanted to make the journey back to the ship much sooner, but the immediate needs of the colony had taken priority. A small mountain, complete with a cave network and freshwater spring, had provided the basis for their sanitary needs. A few hollowed out tree branches diverted a part of the water to a large cave area where wood partitions created individual showers below a series of artificial waterfalls.

The remaining water of the spring had been diverted to either drinking water storage or to a different cave where Kevin and others had set up a crude but functioning latrine. The sheer cliffs outside the mountain made certain they wouldn't have any unwelcome visitors.

The survivors moved through the treetops by swinging on ropes. Cutting branches and heavy logs, they'd brought them back to the colony for use in constructing more durable residences in the canopy. Sheltered among the strong branches of the trees, the jungle homes were simple but comfortable.

As everyone worked together, it didn't take long for the refugee camp to start looking like a small village. Work had even begun on a platform to span the gap between houses and create a foundation where they wouldn't have to rely on the massive cargo net.

They made use of the trees at a distance from their settlement because they needed the ones closer in as room for the buildings they were putting together. If they cut down the trees closer to home, they'd sever their connection to the remainder of the jungle and be unable to reach the trees they'd need for building materials or food.

"It was a good idea, putting the rope between the jungle and the ship," Kevin praised George for his clever thinking. "We can still salvage a few things from the ship before rust and the elements try to lay claim to them."

"I did have an ulterior motive," George replied. He moved over to the crashed helicopter. The aircraft was only half on the helipad, and the passenger side landing skid was bent from the impact of the crash. He tried the copilot door, but the impact had twisted the frame slightly, enough to wedge the door permanently closed.

Rounding the machine, he opened the pilot's door and gained access. Pulling himself half inside the leaning aircraft, he reached over and picked up the item on the copilot's seat.

"What did you find?" Kevin queried.

"I left the Bible here in case I got killed before making it to the colony," George explained, holding up the worn leather book triumphantly. "If I hadn't reached safety, you could have come back for it yourself."

"I'm glad you made it," Kevin stated.

"So am I," George agreed with a grin.

"I've been meaning to ask you for some time," Kevin mentioned. "Who are you really? Three Scar seemed to recognize you when we first met."

"Although he and I had never met, he did know of me because of the places I'd been and the things I'd done while there," George explained. "I used to be an assassin."

"An assassin?" Kevin said in disbelief. "You were an assassin?"

"Used to be," George emphasized. "In the years before the zombie outbreak, I spent a considerable amount of time with a priest, discussing my past and if I had a future."

George sat down on the bent landing skid of the helicopter while he related his tale to Kevin. Three Scar and Adam stopped what they were doing and listened.

"Did the priest convert you?" Kevin questioned, uncertain how he should feel standing in front of an admitted assassin.

"He never really got the chance," George explained. "We'd spent hours in discussion, but before I made a decision, the zombies got to him."

"I suppose I should've phrased it differently," Kevin amended. "You said used to be an assassin. Why did you quit?"

"No one was hiring," George joked. "I suppose the real reason was tied to why I started wearing this outfit. He sacrificed himself to keep me from being bitten. The man least deserving of death dies to protect the man who deserved it most."

"He must have seen something good in you," Kevin pointed out. "You've certainly been a blessing to our group."

"He saw good in everybody, but before he turned, he told me that when a person is born again, they become a new creation in Christ," George continued. "So, I guess you could say the assassin died with the priest that day."

"How has your faith endured since?" Kevin asked.

"My faith has only gotten stronger," George answered with a confident smile. "Look around at what has happened. An elevated city called Sanctuary has saved many lives, and their reports on the undead lead to a stronger defense of Walton. The city might have been overrun without Sanctuary's information. Our group found shelter in the trees, overcoming countless obstacles in our way and even enlisting a trio of scavengers. Do you think any of these things would have been possible if someone hadn't been keeping an eye on us? How many of us would've died if someone wasn't actively working to keep us safe?"

"It's something to think about," Kevin admitted.

***

Utalizing a long cargo net and some additional ropes they secured around the original line strung between the jungle and the ship, the expedition force created a makeshift bridge. It wasn't strong or steady enough to support the heaviest equipment they needed to move, but they planned to come back for the rest later. The small group headed back to the village carrying crates packed with supplies.

While on their way, Kevin thought about what George had told him about being formerly an assassin. It made sense to him now as to why George had given the scavengers in their group a second chance; it mirrored the one George had been given.

As they neared the tree top village, Kevin saw one of the messenger birds arrive. Taking a hold of one of the numerous ropes they'd suspended throughout the jungle, Kevin swung between the trees and landed on the partial decking they'd installed around their colony site. Once on firm ground, he hurried to find out what message had been delivered.

George and the others tied off the cargo crates they carried and swung them over as well. Adam, having gone directly after Kevin, waited on the far side where he could catch the incoming crates and stop them from swinging back the other way.

After the cargo had been secured, the group left it behind and jogged to catch up with Kevin.

"What's the good word?" George asked as he and the others entered a medium sized hut. Made from fashioned together logs, the structure was solid and large enough to accommodate all seven of the survivors who lived in the trees. Isabella sat behind a wood desk where she was looking over the message she'd removed from the bird perched on the backrest of her chair.

"Governor Clark had received word from the leader of Sanctuary," Isabella informed them. "According to Bruce, the undead around Sanctuary are thinning out."

"What do you mean?" Kevin asked for clarification.

"The people of Sanctuary have been killing and cremating the undead for some time," Isabella explained. "Bruce says the outer areas of the city, previously full of zombies, have been emptied, and no more have shown up to replace them. If things continue unchanged, he estimates it will only be a few years at most before the area around Sanctuary has been completely cleansed."

"That is good news," Razor commented. Red stood beside him. Her crimson hands were wrapped around Razor's muscular right arm in a partly loving, partly possessive, embrace. She'd found what she wanted and wouldn't let anyone take him from her.

"Is Walton considering clearing the undead from around their walls?" Three Scar inquired.

"They've already started," Isabella confirmed. "They've made a fire-pit between their inner and outer walls where the undead are reduced to harmless ashes."

"When you send word back, you'll need to inform them of our findings," Kevin instructed. "I captured two zombies and strung them up in the jungle. I killed one and left the other undead. I've been monitoring their levels of decay and found no difference between them."

"What does that mean?" Adam asked.

"It means we won't have to stay in the trees forever," Kevin clarified. "The zombies are continuing to rot, and they'll eventually fall apart at the seams and be unable to function. Sanctuary and Walton will thin out the ranks of the hordes near them, but any still out there in the world will eventually degrade to the point of collapse. All we have to do is wait, and we can outlive them."

"It will make retaking the world much easier," George suggested.

"We'll need to be on guard against the newest zombies," Three Scar cautioned. "The original zombies have been around for ten years or so, but the scavenger bases overrun have put some fresh bodies into the mix. They will take time to degrade."

"We can speed up the process with a few of them," Adam suggested eagerly, smashing his tattooed fist into the palm of his opposing hand.

"He's right," George concurred. "The number of recent additions will be less and more manageable. We could thin them out from up here."

"We'll need to find a safe place to cremate them," Kevin said. "I don't feel comfortable lighting a bonfire in an encampment made of wood."

"How about the ship?" Adam suggested. "There's enough metal, we could rig up something."

"Sounds good," Kevin agreed. He turned to Isabella. "Be sure to let Walton and Sanctuary know our plans."

"Certainly," Isabella responded, writing down the information in minuscule print on the paper she'd be sending by messenger bird to Walton.

***

The bird's wings flapped quickly as it launched out of Isabella's hands, heading toward Walton with their most recent message.

"It's interesting how quickly things change," Kevin mentioned as he watched bird soar across the sky.

"To what are you referring?" George asked.

"Many thought the arrival of the zombies was the end of the world, and in many ways it was," Kevin explained. "Pollution, crime, politics, and everything else that mired humanity and prevented progress has been swept away. Today, we have a chance to start again and do it better, to rebuild this world greater than it ever was before. The old world is dead. Welcome to the end of what was and to the beginning of what will be."