"I didn't know your middle name was Jericho," Zach said after Eric explained his professional name. "But isn't that, like, the evil city Joshua marched around?"

Eric shrugged. "Yeah, but my mom thought it sounded nice. My priest didn't like it much, though, and I think he tried to change it to Joshua at my baptism." A pause. "Might have threatened to not baptize me at all since my parents weren't married in the church thus suggesting I was born out of wedlock."

"Did that matter?"

"I mean, kinda. It depends. The argument was that my parents weren't following the correct path which meant they weren't going to raise me as a proper Catholic—" Eric cut himself off and shook his head. "But that's not the point. Anyway, after I regained my senses, I booked it straight out of Manhattan."

"And you didn't happen to take any more of the vaccine?" Grace asked carefully.

"It wouldn't have lasted out of the fridge, anyway, if I did. I did grab some of my research related to it, though, but that was all I could take at the time. There were a lot of gunshots going off, and I wasn't sure if I would be shot on sight." Eric shrugged again. "That was before I figured out I can't exactly be killed."

Grace and Zach looked at him in mild horror.

"...Ah, yes. Context. Here." Eric turned his head to the side where the device at his temple was. He tapped it lightly. "This is an electroshock device Marco and a couple others designed in case I can't pull back from the urges. One push of a button, and I drop. It was installed through an already existing gunshot hole from a particularly trigger-happy guy on a resource expedition."

"So...you really can't die?" Zach asked.

"I mean, I can lumber back to camp with moderate injuries I sustain relatively fine, and it's not definitive if I can bleed out or not, but I essentially have about the same physical qualities as the others out there."

"But what if, you know, you go all—" Zach bit at his arm.

"I take offense to that," Eric said sarcastically before moving on. "The first precaution is the salves. I can still smell the blood through it, but it's easier to ignore with something masking it." A thought passed through his mind and he looked at Grace. "You're gonna have to use it during menstruation, by the way, and there's a whole feminine hygiene group here that'll happily set you up with reusable products."

Grace could only nod at the sudden information.

"But anyway, next is the whole electroshock thing, and lastly is the mask." He shifted the mask a bit. "In addition to keeping me from spreading the virus, it also acts a bit like a muzzle. Sturdier and harder to take off. Oh, and I should also say—"

A crackling sound came from something attached to Eric's belt and a black device on the counter next to Marco.

"Front gate to Eric."

Eric gave Marco a puzzled look before grasping the walkie-talkie and speaking into it. "This is Eric."

"We got another group at the gate. They need an inspection. Over."

"Another?" Eric mouthed before replying. "Affirmative. Over and out."

After reattaching the walkie-talkie to his belt, Eric looked at Marco and shrugged, but his brow was still furrowed. "It's not like I remember why I came in here in the first place anymore. I hope we don't have another sweep coming this way, though. I may need to go scouting again."

"Go let them in, First. I can take it from here."

"Right. I'll see you around."

All watched him leave until Marco spoke again.

"Are you still inclined to quarantine yourselves after meeting the problem?" he asked, a small, fond smile on his face.

"I...guess not. I trust he knows what he's doing." Grace shrugged. "Is there anything else we should know about this camp?"

"A few, but I think you've been presented with enough for the day. Everything else can be dealt with later such as what your job and role will be here." Marco pushed off from the table and stood straight, signaling Grace and Zach to do the same. "There should be someone at the door who'll lead you to the dorm."

"Thank you." She gave a small nod, elbowing Zach to do the same, but as they began walking to the door, Marco piped up again.

"By the way, if you folks need anyone to talk to, I'm willing to listen anytime. It's not hard to find me." His eyes softened. "I was a psychiatrist before all this started, but I made sure to keep my roots in counseling. We all went through a lot of trauma this last year, and it's ok to need help processing it all. So whenever you need it, come see me. My door is always open, and others offer the same."

Grace didn't remember the last time someone had said that to her. Ever since the apocalypse started, it was as if everyone switched to the survival of the fittest mindset. No one cracked. No one cried. And if you did, you were the weak one and next to be disposed of. It was...comforting, to say the least, to have it be offered so openly to talk about everything that's happened.

"I'll...think about it," she said instead, not quite willing to let the walls down so soon, but she meant it when she said it. "Thank you."

Marco nodded his head in understanding and gave a small wave before turning back to his work. "Have a good evening and a good rest."

Eric expected a lot of things when he got to the gate. The injured, the traumatized, those who were driven away from another home, etc. But he certainly didn't expect a...full crew of bodyguards and a single woman in a suit?

"Is that a hummer?" Eric asked the head guard, Jack, incredulously as the oddly refined group filed into the inspection chamber.

"Yeah. And there's more of them, but they insisted staying outside as extra border protection." Jack stole a glance at Eric, his brown eyes suggesting a grimace under his mask. "Should we let them in?"

"I don't think these people are used to hearing no's."

Eric stepped away before Jack could reply, standing slightly in front of everyone else. The group looked a little travel-worn, suggesting they had been driving for several days, and there were more wrinkles on the woman's suit than she probably would've liked. Nonetheless, her black hair—dyed—was slicked back into a high ponytail, her makeup was freshly done, and her black pointed-toe heels were shined. Eric had no idea how she was walking on uneven ground in stilettos—he once wore similar heels on a dare—and just by that alone, he was a bit intimidated.

And severely underdressed.

"Is this the Harringdale camp?" the woman asked amicably before Eric could say anything.

"Uh," Eric began intelligently, "Yeah, this is Harringdale." He cleared his throat. "Sorry, this is a bit unusual. You don't exactly...look like survivors?"

He resisted turning around and glaring at Jack when he heard snickering. He was a virologist, not a public speaker. The woman, however, only smiled.

"Neither do you. In fact, everyone I see at this moment looks well fed and well equipped. You must be one of the luckier few." She looked around the space, admiring the shipping container walls. "Very resourceful. Is there a harbor nearby, then?"

"Train station," Eric corrected. "So, what brings you here?"

"Oh, I suppose introductions are in order." She held out her hand for a handshake. "My name is Kirsten Wight, ambassador for Project R.O.A.D., reconnect others and deliver. We hope that Harringdale would be another stop in our goal."

Eric shook her hand before pulling back. "Another stop...?"

"Yes, another stop. I'm sure you'll hear about us in time, but I prefer talking to someone in charge, first." She peered around Eric to the shut door behind him and the gate guards. "And there was someone else here, I was told, whom I wish to speak to as well."

"Well, I'm one of the co-leaders," he motioned for the door to be opened, "Eric Sagan, by the way."

Kirsten's eyes lit up at that. "Sagan? Are you related to Dr. Jericho Sagan? The virologist who worked on the zombie virus?"

"Cerebralnecrovirus actually, and, well, that's the name I went by before this all started."

Her smile dropped marginally after that. First in confusion, and then in disappointment. Eric's mouth twitched into a smile under the mask, barely restraining a snort when she glanced at his sweatpants and hoodie.

"Were you expecting a lab coat?" he asked.

"No. Sorry, it's been a long trip." Kirsten brushed off her suit jacket, using that moment to recompose herself and paste on a polite grin. "We have much to talk about, then, Dr. Sagan. I believe you'll like what we have to offer."

Do you think what Project R.O.A.D. has to offer will be good? Don't forget to leave a vote and comment!

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