Kevin couldn't help being impressed with the town. With every city on Earth broken and ravaged by either scavengers or the undead, Walton stood strong and untouched.

The wall, measuring ten feet in height and half as wide, was composed of gray metal. Reinforcing rods as thick as Kevin's arm braced the top of the wall, stretching down at a forty-five degree angle to concrete slabs where they were secured to the ground. Every five feet, another angled rod provided support to the wall, ensuring it wouldn't topple, no matter how many undead pressed up against the exterior.

A catwalk and ladder system, resembling a fire escape, were bolted to the wall and provided walking space for the bowmen stationed there. Although the wall itself was wide enough for the defenders, the catwalk was positioned under the upper edge of the wall in order to let the bowmen crouch behind the metal barrier and take cover should any approaching enemies be armed.

Climbing down the ladder from the catwalk, Kevin surveyed the part of the town closest to him. It resembled a war zone with bunkers and long strands of gleaming razor wire. Chunks of broken rocks and concrete were positioned here and there, and although they weren't large enough to hide behind during an attack, they were of such dimension to hinder any aggressor trying to get past them. The only available path was a long and twisting trail in full view of a secondary wall.

Kevin realized scavengers would have to follow the trail snaking its way between the obstacles, all the while being target practice for the guards, and the zombies would become ensnared by the crossing strands of razor wire, immobilizing them long enough for the soldiers to finish them off. It was a sound defensive strategy, but Kevin hoped it would never be put to the test.

The ramp they'd used to cross the first wall had been moved to the secondary wall, and the small group proceeded up and over the interior wall. What Kevin saw next took his breath away for it reminded him of the way towns looked before the zombies and those fighting them had destroyed everything.

Houses, well painted and tended, were surrounded by manicured lawns of lush green and bordered by white picket fences. The main roads were paved with asphalt, but side streets were mostly gravel and dirt. Farmland, rich with fertile soil and abundant crops, were hemmed in by wire fences beyond the residential houses.

Children ran and yelled happily in the school playground. Pedestrians leisurely walked the streets. Their clothes weren't worn and tattered from age and use. The civilians didn't seem to have a care in the world. To the three travelers from outside, the blissful serenity of Walton seemed to be a true slice of paradise.

"This way, please," the escorting soldier encouraged, leading the way toward the pillared front entrance of a government building at the end of the street. He opened the door and ushered them inside.

Unlike most of the official buildings Kevin had been in before, this one seemed smaller and more welcoming. Most government locales were grand and slightly cold in terms of their sterile and formal design. This one differed because it felt more like a private residence than a place where governmental laws were written and enforced.

A short hallway, its wood floors partially covered by a simple rug that didn't quite reach the side walls, extended from the front doors to the one in the back. A stairway and varnished railing on the left side of the hall offered access to the second floor, and at the base of the steps were a pair of doors on both sides of the walkway. The door on the left led into a dining area, and the door on the right opened into a parlor.

"Why isn't there any security in here?" Isabella asked when she noticed the empty hallway and rooms.

"We have no crime here," the soldier acting as their guide answered. "Threats to Walton don't come from the inside."

"How can you have no crime at all?" Kevin asked. As a former cop, he was very eager to learn their methods.

"We didn't have room for a jail, so troublemakers are banished," the soldier explained. "Crimes are prevented because any potential benefit simply isn't worth the risk of the punishment it would generate."

"The zombies helped perfect the legal system," George commented. "Who would've thought?"

The room at the end of hall, directly behind the stairs, was open and well lit by numerous windows, bathing the space in daylight. It seemed the perfect place to spend an afternoon quietly reading a book.

Taking a right handed turn, the soldier guided the visiting procession into a small office. Bookcases lined the right wall from floor to ceiling, and tan filing cabinets covered the left wall. Situated in the middle of the room was a wooden desk of polished cherry wood, the deep red color gleaming under layers of clear finish.

Seated behind the desk was a man Kevin assumed was in his late forties to early fifties. His formerly black hair was streaked with gray and a few lines of silver. His blue eyes scanned the group entering his office, and Kevin saw an intelligence and cunning in the gaze, similar to a predator either sizing up a rival or a potential meal. It instantly put Kevin on guard as the Governor was clearly not a man to be crossed.

"Welcome to my city," the Governor bid to them as he rose from his chair and straightened his pinstripe suit. "My name is Clark Webster."

"Kevin Scott," he replied to the obvious start of introductions. "Former police officer and hunter."

"George Navarro," the priest took up where Kevin had left off. He gestured to the old woman beside him. "Isabella Kressel. Survivors and bane of scavenger bands everywhere."

Clark smiled at their unofficial title. "What brings you to Walton?"

"We were traveling west and heard about a town safe from zombies," George answered. "Most reports of such nature are either myths or the places were destroyed."

"Your city seems to have faired well," Kevin commented.

Clark continued smiling, but Kevin noticed it falter slightly. Kevin doubted he would've detected it if he hadn't been studying the man so closely. The Governor clearly knew something he wasn't telling, and it made Kevin uncomfortable.

"Although you are welcome to stay for as long as your personal supplies can last, I would recommend you leave sooner, so you will still have some for your journey. You never know how long it may take you to find more."

"Good advice," Kevin accepted. "You seem fairly knowledgable of the outside world."

"You aren't the first travelers to visit my city," Clark answered with a knowing smile. "As long as you are here, allow me to show you around."

"Don't you have government business to attend to?" Isabella inquired. "We don't want to take you away from your responsibilities."

"I lead a completely isolated city," Clark explained. "Our walls protect us, but they limit our growth. Since we are simply trying to outlast the end of the world, it doesn't require much in the way of constant administration."

As Clark guided them out of his office, he cautioned them about his city.

"I want to offer you a word of warning," Clark told them, pausing at the front door. "The people who live here have been separated from the outside world since the troubles started. They aren't fools. They've seen the people who pass through, and the scars and weapons they carry are enough to testify about something bad going on beyond our walls, but except for the guards, the citizens of Walton remain unaware of the truly horrifying place our world has become. I won't have you ruining it."

"Governor, these people have what no one in the world currently has, peace," George stated. "They can go to sleep at night and not dream about being eaten alive. They don't know what it's like to kill a loved one who's trying to chew on your arm. You'd have to be a creature of abject evil to want to take such peace from them."

Kevin and Isabella nodded their agreement with the priest's opinion. Isabella nudged George with the edge of her shoulder and gave him a knowing look, silently making a suggestion. George realized what she was thinking and pulled out a worn Bible from his pack.

"Perhaps," George suggested to the Governor, "I could speak with your people about what is beyond this life? Man does not live by bread alone."

"I think it would be a good idea," Clark agreed. "Just make sure your discussions are limited to matters of faith and have nothing to do with the undead."

"The only walls I seek to breach are the ones men build around their own hearts," George stated.

"Excellent," Clark said as he pulled the door open and headed outside.

Taking them on a guided tour of the city, Clark pointed out the key areas of interest while explaining the day to day operations.

"Exactly how did this perfect city get built but no others did?" Isabella posed the question. "Why did they stop with only one?"

"Walton was actually an experiment before the troubles in the world began," Clark explained, taking care not to mention specifics about the problems while they walked past the citizens of the town. "Because of recent, at that time anyway, economic difficulties, it was noticed how cities and countries were so completely interconnected; if one fell, the others would follow. To prevent this chain reaction, Walton was established as an entirely self-sustaining community. We produce our own food, electricity, and clothes. We even have a water purification system, so our town will never thirst."

"Then the...troubles began," Kevin said, trying to remember the word Clark had used for the end of the world.

"Yes," Clark confirmed. "The government built the walls and the intervening obstacles, further isolating Walton from the outside world."

"How is it to be so completely cut off?" Kevin asked.

"It feels like living in a small town," Clark answered. "The only difference is there aren't any towns to visit beyond the walls."

Kevin took note of the industrialized portions of the city, such as the textile mills, power stations, and water treatment facilities. They had been built on the far side of the farmlands to keep them away from the residential district of Walton.

It seemed quite idyllic, but he also observed the heightened alertness of the city guards. They were being extremely vigilant for a defense force responsible for protecting the city continuously over the last ten years. Combined with the Governor's earlier behavior, Kevin's instincts were screaming at him that there was a very serious problem in this town.

Whether they were welcome or not, Kevin felt the nearly overpowering urge to get out. The city of Walton, for all its wonders and supposed security, didn't feel safe, far from it. They needed to get away from the town fast.