Melanie and Eddie were led inside a sizable building and through a number of corridors and passageways before being ushered into a wide room. The wall to the left was covered by cherry wood shelves cluttered by glass bottles plugged with cork. Some bottles contained powders while others fluids of varying densities, a few even glowed softly. The wall to the right held more of the dark red shelves, but these were stacked high with leather-bound books, wax sealed scrolls, and loose stacks of parchment held together with string. A centrally placed table, directly under a brass light fixture of four oil lamps, was nearly hidden under piles of wire, gears, and all the tools necessary to fashion them into useful mechanisms. The room smelled of old books, fresh sawdust, and lubricating oil. Hunched over the table, and muttering to himself, was the room's only occupant.

"Elder," said the lead guardian. "These are the visitors found outside."

The man turned to see who had interrupted his work. The sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up to keep them out of the way, but it hadn't prevented grease and ink stains from speckling the otherwise white material. A gold chain of a pocket watch glinted from the front of his pale brown vest of well-worn leather. He had a wide mustache, and the hair on his head matched it in both abundance and refusal to be neat; once dark his hair was interspersed everywhere with gray to the point where there was a fight to see which would be the dominant color.

"Melanie?" the Elder questioned when he saw her, removing a pair of gold rimmed spectacles from a vest pocket and placing them on his nose for a better look at her.

"It's you," Melanie breathed. When Eddie shot her a questioning look, she explained. "This is one of the men who transformed me after my injuries."

"It's so good to see you again," the Elder offered, walking swiftly forward and wrapping her in a hug.

Unaccustomed to such things, Melanie stood as stiff as a tree for she didn't know how else to respond. The Elder didn't seem to notice.

"I'm pleased to see you are still functioning," he told her as he let go and stepped back.

"You made certain of it," Melanie stated.

The Elder dismissed her words with a hand as if waving away a flying insect.

"You are not simply a project I'm glad to see successful," the Elder clarified. "With what little time we spent together, I liked you. So much of this world is tragedy and loss, it's a great pleasure to find an acquaintance alive and well."

The Elder looked toward Eddie. "And, you have a friend."

"Eddie Herren," he introduced, offering a hand the Elder shook firmly.

"Welcome to Geargarde; my name is Denton," the Elder told them. "It's actually quite fortuitous you have come at this time."

"How so?" Melanie questioned.

"You may have noticed the electrical disturbance outside," Denton mentioned casually.

"It's hard to miss," Eddie remarked.

"It was built as a defense system to protect us from the undead," Denton explained. He waved them over to his worktable. Shoving aside papers and boxes of copper tubing, he cleared a space for a map he pulled from the bookshelf. Unfolding the aged parchment, he spread it out on the table and pointed to a location. "Here's Geargarde. Further up the mountain is the outpost of Arcstorm. Designed to manipulate weather and guide focused bursts of lightning toward the ground, it was supposed to burn out any zombies who approached. However, none ever came this way, so the system was never used."

"Isn't it being used now?" Melanie questioned.

"That is our problem," Denton explained. "The system came online, burned down our expansion settlement, and trapped us here. Fortunately, no one has been killed, and we're safe inside the city, but we don't have the resources to get everyone out or hold out forever, so as you can see, we are in a bit of a bind."

"Why can't you turn it off?" Eddie queried.

"We've tried," Denton answered with a frown. "We sent people up there to Arcstorm, but they returned with word of someone or something guarding the place. It's harnessed the electricity of the outpost and can hurl it at any target of its choosing. We're scientists and inventors. We don't have the combat skills necessary to fight whatever has taken command of Arcstorm."

"I do," Melanie said. "You want me to eliminate the threat and shut down the system."

"Your people were immune to the lighting outside when they brought us in," Eddie interrupted. "Why should a lightning thrower be a problem for them?"

"Whoever or whatever that thing is up there," Denton explained, "it seems to know our technology protects us from energy, so it attacks the rocks around us, creating explosions of stone shrapnel or tearing up the ground under our feet. Three of my people were nearly killed by an avalanche of dislodged boulders."

"Impressive," Melanie admired. "If it knows how your technology works, both your protective gear and the outpost's primary weapon, it would seem you face an opponent of above average intelligence."

"Upon that we agree," Denton said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wish we knew what it wanted. Maybe we could reason with it."

"I think it has what it wants," Eddie suggested. "If it didn't have the ability to throw lightning beforehand, it might've learned it from the technology of the Arcstorm outpost itself, giving it a fortress to defend and the weapons it would need to hold it against any intruders. If it already possessed the abilities, the technology of the outpost might've been what drew it there, sensing similar energies. Whatever the reason, it has a home and considerable power, both in combat and over this city and its inhabitants. Why would it want to leave?"

"We were hoping you could persuade it," Denton said.

"That's not part of my mission," Melanie denied. "I was made to hunt the undead, and I've delayed doing that for too long. I need to get back to work."

Melanie turned toward the door, but Denton caught her by the arm.

"You were killing the undead before we repaired and upgraded you with machinery," Denton pointed out. "Why do you have this mission?"

"The undead are a threat that must be purged," Melanie answered.

"For what purpose?" Denton pressed.

Melanie hesitated because she'd never thought about the reasoning behind her instructions before. Her mother had taught her how to fight, and Melanie had been doing it ever since. The reason behind it all had never really mattered because it simply was a part of her existence.

"Destroying the zombies is a means to an end, not an end unto itself," Denton told her. "Eliminating the zombies serves the purpose of letting  humanity live, free and safe, and that is what I'm asking you to do now. Help us live."