The North Atlantic Ocean air stung, spring hadn't yet reached this far north. Colin rubbed his numb cheeks, his horse Charlie was becoming restless...she wasn't used to staying in one place for so long. He patted his chestnut mare, to which she snorted in response. Digging around in his rucksack he grabbed his binoculars and scanned the horizon, the dead were still sluggish this time of year and the larger herds were long since gone from this part of the country. Still, Colin didn't like to leave it to chance to be caught by the dead or worse yet the living.

"Nothing, figures." It had been over five days since he had reached the coast, waiting for word from across the ocean. He brought up his binoculars again to his eyes to scan the water, he dropped his binoculars, only to look again to ensure that he wasn't seeing anything. A smile crept over his face, he was dying for good news. The other shipment never made it and this shipment was already over a week late. Colin reached into his pocket to reach for his mirror and began to signal the ship. "Come on, come on signal me back." His heart began to race, a million things went through his mind. Maybe they were all dead, maybe they were hijacked by pirates, maybe the dead learned to sail and were coming to get him. Colin shook his head, being alone wasn't good for one's sanity. Finally he could see it, the flashing from the ship, and a wave of relief swept over Colin's body, and he was back to not being able to feel his toes.

The ship had sailed from Portugal or what was left of it, one of the only known ports that had made contact a few years ago. The trade had been good for the communities, created a sense that maybe this apocolypse wasn't forever. Colin never knew the world from before, but he would very often hear stories from the few older people he met on his travels, talking about musicians, and movies, and parties, and camping without fear of the dead, and when the dead...stayed dead.

Finally the giant ship dropped anchor, and a large bearded man boarded a lifeboat with several boxes of supplies. Colin took his queue to set up the trade and grabbed the boxes on the caravan attached to Charlie. It was a collection of salvaged goods, and crafted, Europe apparently had a taste for American music, and he collected several CD's. He filed through the box, Justin Bieber, Katy Perry, Bob Dylan, a best of Madonna CD, he had no idea who these people were, he never stayed at a community long enough to have much stuff. There was a box of cotton garments, cigarettes, country ham, several letters, and pelts.

The large bearded man washed ashore, "Bom dia!" The two strangers hugged, "Habla...uh...english?"

The bearded man laughed heartily, "I'm Portuguese, not Spanish and yes they made sure to send a guy who speaks English. My dad he uh, before all this, studied at Penn State, he taught me before he uh-"

"Yeah"

Tragedy was never in short supply in the world, and generally no one wanted to pour their heart out to every stranger they met.

Colin gestured to the stranger, "So this is our shipment, there's quite a few letters, mostly civilian, some letters to the Kingdom of Vichy I think, the usual salted and cured meats, a couple crates of beer, a small community in the midwest sent cheese, can you believe it? They were so insistent."

The bearded man laughed, "People are funny man, I got a crate filled with stale ass cookies all the way from Scotland. But pay the travel fair, I'll send whatever you want."

"Well show me what you got and I think we're good." The bearded man nodded, Colin rifled through crates of "stale ass cookies", salted cod, olive oil, letters, records, toothpaste (which was in high demand), colognes and perfumes from Vichy, and wines."

"Yeah everything looks good here, tell me though, why didn't we hear from the last ship?"

The bearded man looked sullen, "We lost contact with a community to the south, in Algiers."

"Attacked?"

He shook his head, "No, plague, we tried to send antibiotics but it was too late, those who weren't dead, were quickly consumed and turned."

"Did it spread?" Colin asked

"I don't think so, it was burned to the ground to be sure, can't take any chances."

Colin agreed, the world was much safer and more prepared now than it was in the past when it all started, but even still as he found out, the world was still so fragile.

"Sorry to hear."

"Yeah well, it's bound to happen everywhere I guess. That's why I like to be on the move you know?"

"Yeah...I know. I've seen my fair share of it."

The conversation was interrupted by a small group of the dead, "Well, company's arrived." The two strangers shook hands and goods were exchanged, "Til we meet again stranger"

Colin saddled up, and left the port and the hungry company behind heading towards his first drop off, Boston, MA.

Colin rode up the 3A, checking the time on his watch. 3:22 PM, it would be dark in a few hours, but it would only take about an hour to make it to Boston's front gates. He had a shipment of several crates of Vichy wines and cologne to bring to Boston, as it was the eastern coast's largest safe settlement. He had to admit to himself that he was very glad that the ride was very uneventful, and the unrelenting smell was almost entirely eradicated.

Boston was recaptured nearly 10 years ago, he was still a teenager when he heard about the raid to take it back from the dead. He remembered groups of men rallying people from community to community to fight for them. Promised them that they could live in safety and have all the food and booze they could carry if they succeeded. Colin scoffed outlout, most of those men, and some women never came back. It was ugly, and they were unprepared. They fought in the summer, not enough armor for everyone, used guns and drew more, and more, and more. They shouldn't have succeeded, but they did, but no one ever had the same story about how they won. Colin gave up trying to get a straight answer years ago, instead Boston was a thriving city now, the heart of the North Eastern Seaboard, a major trading hub for all the other smaller communities.

"Halt stranger!"

Colin stayed his horse and waved to the guard, "Pony express, just got shipment from abroad."

The guard gripped his pike, and pursed his lips, "Care if I look inside the caravan?"

Colin shook his head, "No by all means. Any commotion on the path?"

The guard used his pike to move open the tarp to reveal the back of the caravan, "What's in here?"

"Uh, salted fish, wine, stuff like that."

The guard loosened up a little, "And uh, it's been pretty quiet, we've been sending teams to clear every week, seems to be working."

"Good, good. So are we good?"

"Yeah, sorry, you can go."

Colin was thankful it wasn't like some of the meetings he's had with some guards from some communities, and took his hand off his hidden rifle, hidden under a blanket. He didn't enjoy killing, especially not the living.

Then he came upon it, the giant cedar wall, the wall that protects the 500 square miles of reclaimed Boston. A giant moat surrounded the wall, and like a Medieval castle of old, a drawbridge. Colin signaled the tower guard with his mirror, and the drawbridge opened to let him in.

Colin put on his trademark grin, "let's sell some shit"