Above the drawbridge was a sign, "God be with us as he was with our fathers."

"Then we truly are lost." Colin said back to himself. He rode Charlie into the front courtyard just inside the outer wall, and dismounted. Rifling through his rucksack he grabbed an inventory list, and walked towards an office, which was just an old house which had been converted to a small barracks and inventory house. He straightened his old lambskin jacket, and knocked on the door and waited for his target.

"Hello?" An older man answered the door, and he held a cane. His eyes were old, but Colin saw, definitely not stupid. "I'm here with several crates of supplies, letters, food..."

The old man banged his cane, "You're all fucking vultures, you know that."

Colin nodded, "I know, you don't like me, and I don't like me. But I have the goods that people want, and can't get. And some of them are very legitimate I assure you."

"Hmmph, I bet. So why are you here talking to me then? Drop off your stuff at the inventory processing centre and be done with it. Don't bother me."

"Well sir, I would but then I'd get Boston currency, and...well most communities outside the safe zone don't accept it."

The older man didn't seem to believe the reason, but knew where it was going. "Sure, you're a legitimate business man doing business all over God's green earth. So what do you want then?"

Colin thought a moment, "Well, now that you mention it, I have a few customers behind the second wall, I think they'd be interested in a few items" As Colin talked, he grabbed a bottle of a 2004 L'Arbre Blanc Vin de Pays du Puy de Dôme Vinzelle, and waved it in front of the old man. "I'd hate not to be able to do business in this lovely community."

The old man grabbed the bottle and looked it over, "Agreed," he put the bottle on a small desk, and then called for a guard, "Escort this man to the inner wall, and make sure he's gone by sunrise."

"Of course sir."

Colin looked back to the older man, "Good doing business with you." He wished he had a hat he could tip, maybe he'd buy one in town.

"Come this way now" the guard ordered.

Saddling up again, Colin followed the guard down the path and past the courtyard. Tradesmen were still working well into the night, he supposed no one wanted to be near the butcher, the blacksmith or tanners. Colin held his nose as he passed the tannery, he could get used to the smell of the dead, but not whatever the hell that was. The guard noticed his reaction and laughed, "outsiders".

The inner wall was made of stone and brick, made from the left overs from what was left of the city when it was destroyed. If he knew anything about history, he might have been sad to know that several portions of the wall were made from 17th century buildings, but he didn't. The wall surrounded 250 square miles, where the more important civilians lived, and where the wealth Colin was looking for lived. He saw torches being lit all over the city, and a few gas lamps. "I thought Boston had electricity now?"

The guard replied back, "we do, it's just not enough to power the whole city, especially overnight. So most of the city uses candles and torches."

Colin scratched his nose, "dangerous innit?"

The guard laughed, "Of course, but these people are more afraid of the dark than a fire."

"Here we are." The guard dismounted his horse and went inside a small office, and quickly the second door began to creak open. "I'll see you at sunrise."

"Don't let the bedbugs bite you." The guard laughed as Colin said that, "No, I suppose I wouldn't like that."

Finally, Colin grabbed his makeshift map of the city. He was looking for a tavern, The Shiny Pumpkin. He held the map in several different directions, but had trouble reading the tiny writing by the distant flickering candle light, and the last of the sunlight was gone. Sighing, he rolled the map back up and tucked it into his inside pocket. He patted his pocket and found his small silver cigarette case and matches and struck a match to light a thin French cigarette.

Exhaling smoke Colin looked up at the skies, the gas lamps made it hard to see the stars, it wasn't like it was out on the road. He appreciated the safety that came with the walls, and people, but there was nothing like the road. He dismounted off his horse, and rode her to a post, "Be good Charlie, I have some business." He patted Charlie on the side, and received a snort in response.

"Bad 'abit you got there."

"Huh?" Colin was lost in thought

"Smoking, bad habit." Colin turned around and saw a younger man speaking to him

Colin laughed, "yeah, it sure is. I'm a fan of vice."

"Since you're here, I'm looking for the Shiny Pumpkin." The man Colin down, and his eyes looked up appearing to be recalling the information. "Well," The man tapped his foot, "I believe it's on the corner of Merchant's Row and State St." Colin looked around, "Sorry, I'm not sure where I am, I'm not from not around here."

The man motioned to go north, "then take a right right up on State, can't miss it. You'll hear it before you'll see it."

"Thanks,"

"Yeah, no problem." The man bobbed his head slightly as a courtesy and was on his way.

Back on the horse, he let his horse trot north, the sounds of the hooves on the pavement echoing off the buildings. He never got used to seeing light, civilization, sounds of talking, laughter. He was too accustomed to looking over his shoulders and the moans of the wind, and the dead. People in towns like these didn't like people like Colin, drifters. They didn't trust him, and Colin preferred it that way, it made it easier not to miss people when they died, or when another community fell. They all fell eventually.

A slight chill in the air caused Colin to zip up his leather jacket, winter was already fading, and with it the safety in traveling the country. He didn't mind the excitement too much, and it beat sleeping in the cold. He could hear the tavern before he saw it, there was something about Boston moonshine that could burn people up and make them that rowdy. Colin tussled his hair before tying his horse and wagon to a post outside, cracked his neck and entered the tavern. Looking around for the right face, trying not to be too obvious he leaned on the bar and ordered a Canadian Whisky, or at least they were claiming it was Canadian Whisky. Bartenders across the country couldn't be trusted, he was sure it was the same shit moonshine but a few dollars more. He didn't want to cause a fuss, so he ordered it neat and sat a table, and put his legs up, and his hat down covering his eyes so he could continue to scan the room.

There was always somebody, and without fail he spotted him, or rather her. She was a plain looking woman, he thought it was probably the person the guy from New Haven told him to look out for. An important job in Boston, he said, pays well, go to the Shiny Pumpkin at the end of April. Well, Colin thought to himself, I'll be the judge of that. Colin tipped his hat to the woman as she looked towards the stranger at the table. "Can I get you a drink Ma'am?" Her eyes and Colin's locked, and she acknowledged the phrase, and sat at the table.

She placed a bundle wrapped in moth eaten blue and white cloth, her hands visibly shaking. "Sir, it's all I have." Colin moved his boots off the chair, and unwrapped the cloth, "So, what's the job then? Special package need to go somewhere, need something important?" The woman said nothing, and began to chew her nails. Colin unwrapped the cloth to reveal what it was, coins, medals, jewellery. It wasn't the usual objects people tried to barter with, these were personal objects with high personal value. He picked up a few of the medals, they were from former military service, from long before. He picked up a bronze medal, WWII, others from Vietnam, Afghanistan, other countries he had never heard of. "Please, it's all I have, I need this done, can you do this?"

He frowned, "Now these will pay my fees, these are gold, silver, bronze. But I have to ask again, what is the job."

The woman looked down again, "We received a letter from Hope, Washington 6 months ago."

"Washington?" Colin choked out, it had been some time since he's gone that far West.

"Yes, our daughter left us to go West, we didn't want her to go, it was dangerous crossing the Great Midwest Divide, we begged her not to go, but she was insistent. She heard stories of the communities out West, thought it would be better out there."

Colin was silent, there was a lot of stories of out West, not all of them good. He didn't want to worry this very obviously worried mother of hearing about the community outside former LA, it was a lot like Boston. Few years ago it attracted the attention of a horde 100,000 strong of the dead traveling from Central America after fever probably ripped through the communities there.

"So tell me about what you want me to do?"

"We've begun hearing reports that the routes into Washington and Oregon are cut off, we've heard from a few travellers, and my mind is just racing, oh God, Oh God..."

Colin grabbed the hand of the woman, "I am sure she's fine, the people out West are strong, very strong."

Western communities were very strong Colin knew, aggressive too, they got hit harder than most of the rest of the country, other than the south, except the West dealt with battling the elements that seemed hell bent on wiping humanity off the map, then there was that damn volcano.

Colin gripped harder onto the woman's hand, "your daughter is fine."

The woman used her other hand to reach for a small finely knitted handkerchief, and wiped her face, "I need you to bring her home."

Colin dropped the woman's hand, and pursed his lips, "She may not want to come home."

"I don't fucking care what she wants," The woman yelled, a slight warble in her voice, more tears came out, "Please, I've given you all I have to trade. Her father is getting sick and I just need her back home." The woman opened a small brown bag and in it placed on the table a polaroid picture. "This is my daughter, Theresa, tell her that I'm sorry and please just bring her back home."

Colin wrapped up the items in the blue and white cloth and put it in his bag, and handed the woman his hand, "okay, you have a deal.".

Colin left the bar, back into the chilly air outside, amazed he allowed himself to take on the job. But, as he patted his bag, it sure paid well. He'd have to lessen the load he was carrying before he could hit the open road, traveling across the Great Midwestern Divide was dangerous enough, he didn't want to add 100 lbs and a rickety wagon to it as well. He knew just where to go, where there was few questions asked and they didn't pay in Boston dollars.