There had been several delays ever since the Rothenberg's retrieved their speedboat and, honestly, it felt like people just weren't ready to hit the waters. As each day went on, people who said they'd volunteer began to drop out one by one. To Vince, it was disappointing because he had his eye set on people who he believed were most capable of getting the job done but they were all giving up on him, putting their families and comrades first before chasing a pipe dream that hadn't been around any longer than they have. But who was Vince to judge? Many would argue that besides providing them with a home, he wasn't paying them. Frankly, Vince wasn't much without them either. He wouldn't be able to run this entire community if it weren't for them.

Despite there being room for only four passengers, there could be a total of six squeezed on the Rothenberg's boat. Aside from his younger son, Bart was the only one who knew how to operate his boat, so he had no voice but to go with Vince while his wife and son stayed behind.

Since this was all Vince's idea, to begin with, he was going without question. He also had the log report and knew how to, somewhat, drive the ferry if they ever managed to locate it. When Vince worked at the port, he was nothing but a fare-person who checked people in. His job was boring and repetitive, but during breaks, he'd hang out with the captain on the bridge. His name was Roman Reeves and the last Vince had seen or heard from him was the day before shit hit the fan. Vince took mental notes on how to drive the boat in case the day ever came where he managed to get a promotion of some kind since it was something he hoped for. Bizarre to say, but when he realized that he was the only one who stuck around to protect the port, he took this as his opportunity to live out his dreams in a world that only killed them.

Besides Patricia not wanting to accompany them on this death wish of a mission, Deyvis also decided it was best for him to sit this one out. According to him, retrieving the speed boat was stressful enough, and being within arms reach of Infected was something he didn't want to experience again. Despite it being over a year since the outbreak, he considered it too soon—and that was understandable for the most part. So he backed out at the very last minute, feeling the least bit sorry. However, Carlos, Dora, and Titus grew the current party by three.

The others could only imagine how rough this was on Vince. He started off with a headcount before leaving, but of course, someone else was missing and he was afraid they didn't back out. This was already starting as a huge disappointment and to reserve further embarrassment, he wasn't going to admit out loud that he truthfully expected an army to travel with him. He thought he had it all and he figured that people would be willing to line themselves up if it meant risking their lives from him—but he certainly had some humbling and self-reflecting to do after today.

Hoping that this wasn't going to be another delay, Vince took a step away from the group and searched everywhere for his long-time friend.

Saving the port headquarters for last, Vince eventually located Murdoch hiding in the men's bathroom, appearing overwhelmed with stress. Seeing that he initially voiced his opposition to this task, Vince could foresee this happening. You could certainly say Murdoch was overdressed for the occasion, but he was taking a precaution that many people would've wished they took after having close calls or getting bit. He wore a thick leather jacket, an oversized turtleneck, cargo pants, and rubber-padded worker gloves. On his head was a balaclava, yet to be pulled over his slim face, and around where the sleeves and pants cut-off, was sealed with duct tape.

One would be boiling indoors with that sort of attire, but the source of his sweat was coming from elsewhere. He looked stricken with anxiety, and as soon as he realized someone was entering the men's room, he knew who it was. Toilets weren't operational and the only time men would clutter up the bathrooms was for smoke breaks. He faced away to rest on the sink when he noticed it was Vince. After a brief moment, he looked into the mirror just beside him once the pair of footsteps halted by the entrance—both men were looking at one another through the reflection,

"You alright?" Vince hesitated, having his voice slightly echo.

Obviously, Murdoch hadn't been alright in months. The relationship between him and Murdoch had become strained and was devolving. It wasn't because they didn't like each other or anything but this new world was bringing out sides of themselves that neither of them found tasteful.

"I'd say I was just washing my face but that would obviously be a lie," Murdoch admitted.

Any pair of good friends would be able to laugh it off or joke about it. But it became a relationship where a moment such as this felt awkward.

Vince's eyes momentarily wandered to the robin egg blue stalls on the far left of the room,

"We're all waiting for you down at the boat."

Murdoch tightly squeezed the edges of the sink just before pushing himself off from it. He turned to face his friend,

"I can't wanna go out there," he fessed up, "I don't see the point of it. I'm not used to those things and I don't want to see them again."

Vince gave an exasperated sigh,

"Titus, you made a promise."

"No!" Murdoch argued, "I didn't make a promise, you pressured me into doing this! Just like everyone else!"

"And you're the only one complaining," Vince chuckled.

A patronizing smile spread across Vince's face and Murdoch loathed that more than anything. He felt like he was being ridiculed and the obvious difference in their status was a strong factor to him,

"Is that why everyone else left your pathetic ass to drown?" Murdoch spat. For a moment or two, he reveled in Vince's speechless reaction, "Huh!?"

"Well, at least they had the balls to tell me," Vince retaliated. Hoping it would be the end of their discussion, Vince turned to exit the restroom. At this point, it was telling that he didn't care whether or not Murdoch was going to accompany them on the mission. Just as he stepped a foot outside the doorway, he heard Murdoch mumble something else,

"What about your promises?" Murdoch looked up from the sink and directly into the mirror again, seeing Vince slowly about-face, "What about the times you promised me things and let me down?"

Vince shook his head in bewilderment at the sudden accusation,

"I've always kept my promises. For as long as I've been running this place! I have always held up my end of the bargain," he argued. He talked to Murdoch as if he was scolding a child and he was growing beet red over it, "That's why I'm taking my ass out there and I'm gonna show these people that I actually care."

Murdoch snarled in disgust at Vince from where he stood and, for once in his life, decided to shut his yap and let someone else get the last word for a change. It was stunning to Vince. So he thought that maybe for the first time in Murdoch's life, he had nothing left to say because he had to deal with something that was beyond fact, but could that be the reasoning behind it? Vince felt like It was the cold, hard, truth, and Murdoch knew it—he had been a witness to it.

Taller than his companion, Murdoch brushed past Vince and exited the bathroom with a trudge. Finally, both Vince and Murdoch reappeared to accompany the rest of the crew. The weather seemingly dropped between the timespan Vince departed to go look for his associate. It became colder, windier, and the skies were graying. Not unusual for the later months of the year, but without meteorologists and forecasts around, you could never be too sure whether there was going to be a storm.

Bart, wearing a dark-green beanie and navy bubble jacket, approached both men exiting the station and immediately about-faced to keep up with them in the opposite direction. Bart's main concern was if Vince was still sure about the travel despite the unpredictable shift in weather. To Vince, if he held off on it for another day, he knew that they would never wound up getting it done, so his decision was final.

Murdoch, on the other hand, didn't bother being involved in the conversation and grouched as he walked ahead, waiting with the others. Dora, who already picked up on the mood of the atmosphere, traded a look of predictability with Carlos.

Finally, the speedboat was getting launched into the waters. With the help of Carlos' driving skills, he reversed the boat into the waters via the Rothenberg's truck and let Bart take care of the rest. Once the boat was finally docked, it was everyone's job to climb aboard. Dora couldn't remember the last time she had been on a boat. Being a woman of a particular age, she developed a lot of fears and phobias—fears that she had no choice of overcoming if she wanted to survive. However, she didn't necessarily have to sign up for this. She was the third person to step onto the boat and, as expected, she began to feel nauseous. She immediately sat down in one of the seats and held on to the steel handle for dear life. She began shaking her leg, slightly fidgeting her feet and hands about. Despite her fears that the boat would sink from the number of people stacked onto the boat, she was put at ease seeing that it did the job at holding everyone up.

Vince and Bart were the last two remaining on land.

Floating about two yards to the right of the speedboat was the ferry, and from above came a voice screaming for their father from the top deck. All heads on the speedboat turned to look over, unsurprised to see Vanessa quickly making her way down after she was noticed. It took about four minutes for her to deboard the ferry. Once she touched land, she approached her father. She was fresh-faced, wore a purple sweatshirt, denim jeans, and her usual sneakers. Thinking it might have been important intel she recently acquired, Vince awaited her announcement, but to his surprise, she said something else she seemed pretty adamant about,

"I'm coming."

"No," Vince put it simply as he proceeded to walk ahead before she could stop him. Removing her hand from his arm, he turned to look at her, "Vanessa, we already had this talk."

"Why can't I come?" She glanced over at the boat and saw Dora, "Dora, doesn't even look like she wants to do it. I'll take her place."

Geez, was it really that obvious? As much as Dora wanted to take the offer, she swallowed away the fear. Vince could never forgive her if she ever gave his daughter the chance to make this choice. So she lied to back up Vince's decision on keeping his only child behind. And as decisive and unrelenting as Vanessa was, Vince wasn't going to endanger his daughter—he explained this to her the night before and he thought she understood when it seemed like all he did was wear her down. Even though it was the reality of things, Vanessa didn't want to think of it as risking her life. She looked up at Carlos and everyone else on the boat, finding it somewhat embarrassing to be undermined in front of those who clearly lived up to her dad's expectations. To her, it wasn't a matter of having to be protected or sheltered, it was believing that she was incapable, and oftentimes, she believed that maybe it was because she had yet to prove herself.

Concluding their conversation, she marched off. Being warned that the boat would drench her like a super-soaker if she didn't distance herself. Vince wanted to reel her back in for one last hug and apology but Bart was there to reassure him that nothing was stopping her from understanding like many times before.

Finally, they all climbed aboard the speedboat before it could be assisted further into the water by other crew members of the Port. Bart carefully steered the boat in the proper direction before starting up the motor and finally began to accelerate. Seeing that it took about fifteen minutes on average, by ferry, to get to Toronto Islands, it took even less by speedboat. Unfortunately, it still wasn't enough time for Dora to get over her anxiety and enjoy this momentarily experience for what it used to be. At this point, she had to keep herself contained, feeling as if her heartbeats were proving the energy for the boat's motor.

Before they left, she had this talk before with Carlos and confided in him almost as if he was her son. It wasn't that she wasn't open about it, but she was just unsure given everything that happened within the past year. They both recalled their escape to Toronto: Being the aging woman that she was, Dora's phobias never seemed to get better, and the only thing that was stopping her from fussing with her drive on the highway was the countless antagonizers they had to pass to safely leave New York and arrive in Montreal.

Dora was unsure how she would react to the trip but it wasn't hard for her or Carlos to put together the facts that she didn't like water nor speeding. And, unfortunately, she wasn't dealing with the journey well. Seeing that he hadn't been around to witness it the majority of his life unlike Ada or Jolyn, Dora was thankful that Carlos was there to comfort her. He wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her shoulder, hoping it would do enough to alleviate her anxieties and panics. All she could do was keep her eyes closed and hold onto her seat for dear life, whimpering and gasping every time the boat would bounce from a small wave. Carlos glanced up and looked over at Vince and Murdoch, who watched her in complete astonishment.

"Is she okay?" Vince questioned, having never seen this side to her.

Carlos looked over at Dora, and seeing that she was unable to answer, he encouraged them to change the topic,

"So what's the plan?" the youngest adult asked. The plan was simple, actually: Find the damn ferry and don't die while doing it, "Simple but unguaranteed," Carlos chuckled.

During times like these, one had to just improvise and do what they thought was best.

In a matter of minutes, they reached the Toronto Islands. As they closed in on the land, they were unable to dock just anywhere, so they slowly sailed between a thin passage of leafless trees. The trees crowned over the passage and danced around from the winds, feeling almost as if they were going through a tunnel to another realm. Eventually setting the boat's momentum to drift, it silently sailed through the grey, leafless forest. Seeing that the weather was dropping more and more each week, the pond was on the verge of freezing, having chunks of ice break apart as the boat tore through them.

Being somewhat familiar with the Island, Bart docked his boat in a location that was known as the island's Sailing Club—similar to a parking lot but for boats. Predictably, it was like a ghost town and there wasn't a living soul in sight.

Now that the boat was coming to a calm, so was Dora. She recalled some pretty dark days and bleak times in her past, but Toronto Islands had to be one of the bleakest places she had ever seen. Seeing how stripped of color this island was, shook her. Once the boat was successfully docked, everyone stood up and exited the boat; each carefully walking the boardwalk towards land, seeing sporadically spread trash up close.

"Did anyone see a ferry or anything that looked like a ferry, on the way in?' Vince questioned, checking the magazine of his handgun. When he looked up, they all shook their heads, already disappointed with the response. He shoved the magazine back into his gun, "Shit."

"Can't we do something with the boats out here?" Carlos questioned, wielding his odd sledgehammer as always.

"Bringing them back one by one? That's way too much work."

"Eh, It's better than nothing," Murdoch interjected.

Dora looked over at Vince as the breezes flew through her locks of curls,

"I hate to say it but I agree with Titus."

"I'm gonna circle the island," Bart announced, "You all might as well gather some things while we're out here. For all we know, that ferry could be stranded somewhere further out from the island," Bart advised.

Judging by the looks on everyone else's face, it was something they never considered and it was a plan Vince could get behind. So, with permission, Bart returned to his speedboat and made it clear that he would meet them back in the same place in the next couple of minutes—a good enough time that ensured he had just enough fuel to return to the port. All eyes watched as he maneuvered himself out of the club, cautiously winding himself through undocked boats, and speeding through the path until he was out of sight.

Working years at the terminal, Toronto Islands was a place Vince and Murdoch visited many times as a result of employee discounts. Vince was somewhat familiar with the landscape and all he needed was an island directory. Before he could get moving, he reminded everyone to stay sharp, caring that they all made it back home in one piece. They huddled closely against one another like a herd, constantly on the lookout to protect one another.

Almost perfectly timed, an Infected jumped out from behind a tree. It was far enough to not take them by surprise and when he realized he had time, Murdoch made the next move. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a revolver, knowing he couldn't afford to waste. Standing directly behind him rested her arm onto his wrist and fought to put it down. There was no verbal exchange, but Murdoch knew what Dora was trying to avoid, and that was drawing in any nearby Infected, but from the looks of things, there wasn't any around. So Murdoch pulled himself free from Dora's hold and pulled the trigger anyway.

They all winced from the noise, witnessing the powerful impact that was enough to drop the Infected. Murdoch was proud of himself and looked back to sneer at Dora. The shot would've been deemed impressive—but only if the intended target was a living person.

Once the Infected continued to snarl and growl, Titus gasped so quietly to himself that no one surrounding him could hear it. So stunned, he scrambled to get his gun again after prematurely putting it away, but Dora practically pranced in front of him before he could, giving him burning glances as she did.

She whipped out her baton, having it extend with a simple flick of the wrist, and approached the downed reanimated. With a large wound now present in its chest, it still managed to stretch out its arms for a grab at its executioner. Using sheer force, she drove the baton downward and punctured it through the head. Turning to nod at her party, she continued walking, hoping that they'd follow by example the next time they encountered the dead.

As they all carried on, their strolling led them to one of the nearest Terminal stops on the island, and to no one's surprise, there was no ferry in sight. Vince whipped out the log just to be sure he wasn't hallucinating. According to what he saw, this was the place it was last sent to. He was becoming frustrated by the realities of how difficult this task was turning out. For all he knew, the ferry could've been long gone and in the possession of someone else since it was last here.

The news was unfortunate for sure, but all that was left to do was to hear from Bart. So the trip wouldn't be a complete waste, Dora figured it'd be best to not go back empty-handed. But she wouldn't let it be known that she also wasn't in any hurry to board the speeding boat.

"Where else should we look?" Dora generally asked.

"Let's take a look at the History Museum," Vince suggested, "We aren't too far."

"What could be in a history museum?" Carlos questioned, "Photographs? Relics?"

Vince rolled his eyes,

"People find just about anywhere to hole up nowadays," Vince enlightened quite hostile, "People wouldn't normally look for food in a Port would they?"

Carlos absorbed Vince's remark. He knew he wasn't Vince's favorite person in the world but he didn't want to say anything else to frustrate Vince any more than he already was. The old Carlos would've said something right back but, instead, he said nothing for the sake of showing that he didn't mean any disrespect by his sarcasm. Plus, he didn't want anything more to come in between him and his relationship with Vanessa.

Vince led the way to the Toronto Island Museum. It was the latest built attraction on the Island, meant to tell stories behind the Island's creation and the purpose it served. It was one of the largest landmarks on the island and it took about a year to open. It was just a shame that something such as this didn't get to offer its full potential. Almost as if he was forcing himself to get his mind off of things, his eagerness to see the museum took over the initial operation. Taking him so far ahead of the group, he unintentionally and benevolently left all members of his party in his frigid dust.

The museum was a wide, two-story structure composed of modern architecture. It roughly took on the shape and appearance of a bright, white hexagon, having three separate entrances on its three front sides. What initially was supposed to serve as large glass windows were all shattered to smithereens. Multi-colored shards were spread all over the ground and interior, taking on the appearance of zircon. Seeing that the doorway no longer served its purpose, they could easily slip in through what was now massive openings. Rightfully so, he remained cautious before stepping inside. Considering how spacious the property was, Vince walked back and forth to two different positions to peer inside from separate angles. While he probed from a safe distance, Vince heard a strange sound coming from one of the counters closest to him.

The more he peered, he could eventually make out a small CB radio. How it still managed to work after so long was a mystery, but it was something that immediately could've raised questions. But who knew what was going through their minds during that moment.

"Think we could use that?" Carlos questioned, being one of the first to catch up with him.

"I don't see why not," said Vince as he completed his momentary search.

As Carlos waited outside, Vince took his first step inside the museum.

The other half of the group was on their way. A few minutes went into their own stroll before Murdoch was the first to notice that they were being followed by other Infected on the island. As fearful as he was, the tall figure alerted the group of dead pursuing them and eventually tore his way ahead of the group instead of proposing to fight.

Although she and Murdoch weren't exactly shoulder to shoulder, Dora didn't consider herself alone up until this point. Dora turned to see her group being pursued by four members of the undead, and just like an ant trail, the bystanding corpses noticed the company, and the quad eventually accumulated into a hepta.

As intended, the rest of the party was certainly alerted by Murdoch's warnings, but Carlos was the least bit pleased when he saw Murdoch saving his own ass. From the looks of things, Dora was already taking out the first reanimated on her own, clearly wanting to prevent them from coming closer to the group and potentially backing them into a corner.

"Titus!?" Murdoch heard Carlos shout in disbelief as they both beamed past one another.

Murdoch briefly slowed to a stop and looked over his shoulder, realizing his mistake once he was given the chance to take it all in from his distance. Being about eight to ten yards away from where he left Dora, he could see Carlos rushing over to help his mother figure. It was too late at this point, and he knew he screwed up big time. He would never hear the end of it from Vince once they all got back. Resuming his escape, he hastily sought Vince for some sort of backup. Therefore, Murdoch entered the museum without much thought and his frantic footwork unintentionally kicked something that took someone of his size to trigger, causing him to fly forward and face plant the floors, landing on a carpeted area. Just as he landed, he heard the roll-up gates slam shut over every entrance in the museum, and just like that, the room became a tank of total darkness.

On the outside, Carlos slid to a stop after hearing the metal shutters slam and collide with the ground. At this point, there wasn't much he could do other than back up Dora and find a way to save them afterward.

Dora was managing on her own thus far, taking out the first two Infected with single blows. The third Infected showed itself to have an advantage in height and the fourth Infected was following close behind it. If she wasn't quick enough, she could foresee herself getting double-teamed. Driving her baton through its throat, the precision was good enough to puncture the brain from where she attacked. However, she was surprised by the amount of blood that oozed out of the stale wound. She removed her baton from what looked like a clogged artery and blood suddenly gushed out, splattering onto her face. In the split second she tightened her lips and eyes to renounce infected blood from invading her system, she was blindsided by the second monster that crept beside her. With her eyes still closed, she attempted to quickly back away but lost her footing and eventually tripped to the ground. Quickly turning over, the Infected tripped over the same spot and fell on top of her. Before it could get a chance to crawl closer to her face, Dora peeked through one eye and stole the opportunity to drive the baton through the side of its head, watching it immediately become limp.

Now, the rest of the Infected were coming towards her ever since marking her as downed prey. As close as she was to letting out a deathly shriek, Carlos appeared, taking out the following Infected's legs and making its head resemble a smashed pumpkin soon after. He flawlessly proceeded to annihilate the final pair, taking them down simultaneously with his sledgehammer. The final result was always messy whenever Carlos and his hammer became involved, but it was always proven to be a success.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what the ceasing of the snarls and hissing meant, so with the help of Caros' water bottle, Dora took the time to clean her face. Using the sleeves of her sweater underneath, she patted her face free of any blood, careful to not smear or spread it into any openings of her eyes, nose, or mouth. Eventually aided to her feet, they confirmed that all of the Infected were neutralized,

"Thank you so much, Carlos," Dora thanked while brushing herself off. When she realized she wasn't getting any response from him, she became worried and followed his gaze to the museum, realizing that Vince and Murdoch were nowhere in sight, "Where's Vince and Titus?"

"SHIT!" Murdoch spat to himself. Already, he was beginning to panic. So far, all his panic was proven to do was screw things up further somehow, and on the inside, he was rightfully beating himself to a pulp, "Shit, shit, shit!"

Preferably himself than Murdoch, Vince attempted to keep himself calm and proceeded to rummage through the multiple pockets of his recently acquired travel jacket. Suddenly, a beam of light pointed itself at Murdoch's dejected face. Being with Carlos just seconds ago, Vince was curious as to where Titus even came in from. Needless to say, he was the least bit surprised that Titus was the cause of this. Vince pointed the flashlight at Titus' feet, seeing a thin, loose wire resting on the cap of his boot,

"Tripwire," Vince calmly pointed out, only noticing the contraptions and gears along the walls, after the fact.

"Thanks, captain obvious," Murdoch aggravatingly kicked the rope away from his feet.

He rose to his feet when they both suddenly heard Carlos shouting through to them from the other side of the cold metal shutters. Vince took initiative and walked closer to the gate and neared his ear to it,

"You guys alright in there?" Carlos inquired.

Vince could hear Dora as well, mumbling a few things,

"We're fine. Just some sort of trap for the Infected, I guess."

"Are there any other traps?" Dora followed up next. Besides Murdoch's shame and embarrassment, Vince confirmed that he could make out nothing else that would pose a serious threat. Dora understood, hoping to attain a level of maturity, "Alright, keep comfy and don't move around too much. We'll try and get you out," Dora reassured, "...somehow."

Unbeknownst of what was occurring on the other side, all Vince could do was continue his search for anything with or without the help of Murdoch. Irritated by his problematic comrade, he sauntered past him as if he weren't even there—like an infected without the ability to do harm. The thought of being stuck in some freezing museum was enough to get Vince to think about his daughter and it was pretty obvious that he was becoming grossly agitated as each second passed. Because of that, Murdoch belched out an apology, but more so because he thought it was what Vince wanted to hear and that it would get him out of whatever trouble was most likely in. "Sorry" was just a meaningless word that everyone threw around nowadays, and in all honesty, why would anyone apologize for trying to, what they thought, was fighting to stay alive? Hell, if anything Murdoch felt much safer indoors than out. Running to escape from walkers was something everyone did, wasn't it?

"I should've taken your word for it and left you back at the Port," Vince said, somewhat intentionally meaning to offend him.

"Well, why didn't you? You know what happened to me out there," Murdoch barked back.

"Sorry I thought you at least grew a pair since then."

Murdoch didn't want to argue because there were times he wanted to knock the living daylights out of Vince with a simple right hook, but the only thing stopping him was Vince's status. His beloved community would lynch him like they were pilgrims if they ever found out he laid a hand on Vince. He continued to observe his surroundings as his pestered comrade searched for anything to pry the shutters open—nothing.

Eventually, they were both guided back to the roll-up gate and planned to all work together to manually lift it. On the count of three, all four of them attempted to lift it, but it barely budged. Something was being used to hold it down.

That's when Carlos remembered something: His first time working at a convenience store. He was not sure if it was like this everywhere, but stores with gates usually had a chain on either side that would manually allow the gates to be lifted. Searching around, Carlos noticed the compartment. It was similar to a tall and thin metal casing built vertically into the wall. Hidden inside, would most likely be the chains. However, as Carlos attempted to open it, he noticed it was locked with padlocks. He cursed at himself and used words that Dora would probably faint from. Carlos enlightened that he believed he had an effective plan that would work and advised Dora to stand at a careful distance.

Using his sledgehammer, Carlos began swinging and pounding at the padlock to get it open. After six to seven swings, the padlock finally chipped away and broke. Great—one down, two more to go. Carlos was already feeling quite exhausted after the first session and by the time he was done with the second padlock, he was taking five-second breaks in between each swing. The third lock, however, was higher above than the first two, and although it was possible to break through, Carlos fatigued himself to a point that it was no longer doable. At the end of the day, Carlos wasn't some kind of strongman. Sure, he was still considered athletic and used the sledgehammer in combat from time to time, but there wasn't really much else. He managed to lift the sledgehammer above his head and hit the padlock once or twice, but there was barely a dent made.

Dora watched from behind. Normally, she'd either inquire or wait until she was told to do something, but things were dire now and her mother bear mode had been activated long ago when Titus abandoned her.

Announced before hitting the sea, guns were to only be used in case of an emergency and everyone could agree that this was an emergency.

"Stand back," Dora said, lightly pulling Carlos back by the wrist

Being the only one in the pair armed with a gun, she whipped it out of her back pocket. She pointed it at the padlock and waited for Carlos to stand clear of the ricochet zone. Once they were both at a good enough distance, she braced herself for the impact. She properly rested both hands on the gun, aimed her pistol at the padlock, and she aligned the top of it with her line of sight. Taking a deep breath, she placed her index finger on the trigger and eventually pulled it, anticipating a large pop that would shortly deafen both of their ears. However, all they got was a lifeless click. Understandably confused, Dora pulled the trigger one more time only to end up with the same result. Briefly glancing over at Carlos, he gave puzzled looks as well. After Dora lowered the gun and popped out the empty magazine, she nearly fell over,

"We didn't stock up before we left," her mouth fell agape.

Murdoch backed away, feeling hopeless as they proceeded to bang and rattle the gates from inside to no avail. The more he thought about it, Murdoch now realized there was a huge difference between being safe—and he was far from safe. He was trapped, and the last thing he wanted was to die a not so noble death for a very foolish reason. Finally, he decided to grab his flashlight from a pocket and examined his environment. The main floor was semihexigonal and both ends had staircases that curved up toward the second floor. If he recalled correctly, Murdoch remembered seeing windows from the outside, so he figured that there might've been one to smash and climb out of. At this point, Murdoch was thinking of himself as a borderline genius since he was the only one to come up with it. How could no one think of this?

Ignoring Dora's wishful words for them to stay put, he carried on without being noticed and began to quietly climb the stairs nearest the blocked entrance. Reaching the second platform, he encountered a pathway shut off with pine double doors. The knobs for each door were removed, leaving large holes to have the doors chained shut. Apparently, this was uncommon and whenever something seemed unorthodox, it wasn't meant to be meddled with. Among many other things, this should've been a lesson with the museum, but just as mentioned before—when it came to Murdoch, panic only led to more panic.

Titus kneeled and attempted to peek inside as if he were Peeping Tom but could barely get a good look at whatever was on the other side since the chains were too thick and blocky. Returning to a stance, he noticed the double doors slightly sway back and forth as if it were dancing with a breeze—wind, he logically thought to himself. That, alone, meant that there could've been an opened window up there. Too little, too late, Vince eventually took notice,

"Be careful, you don't know what's behind there," he shouted. In a hectic rush to escape combined with the headache, Murdoch pulled out his handgun, to which Vince couldn't believe. Vince's mouth dropped, "No wait—!"

Murdoch stepped back a safe distance and fired his handgun at the steel chains, making them loudly clatter to the floor. The arrogant friend looked over at Vince with a smile, attempting to correlate his actions with a successful way out. The believable redemption in Murdoch's face gleamed like no other, which Vince was convinced by. A faint smile appeared on both of their faces the moment everything went silent due to the aftermath of the gunshot. However, there was a surprise tucked away underneath the door as soon as Murdoch opened them up. Hidden in the shadows were multiple Infected turning their heads to look back at the flashlight that gleamed and glided over the many of their unreadable faces.

As much as he wanted to avoid verbally swearing aloud, he couldn't hold himself back and he immediately slammed the doors back shut. He rested his back onto it, feeling the Infected eventually fight to push it back open. Feeling his feet tap the broken chains, Murdoch attempted to bend over and pick them back up, hopeful that there would be a use for them again. Failing at double tasking, that's when a plethora of Infected flung the doors aside and knocked Murdoch over, causing him to slam into and tumble over the faulty railing. He shouted just as he slammed into a tall wooden and glass cabinet. Glass shattered everywhere and the cabinet broke apart.

Vince, who only made it halfway up the stairs at this point, was taken by total surprise when the freed Infected collided with him as they rolled down the stairs in heaps, pinning him back down to the main floor.

His head rang as a final Infected tumbled on top of him. Quickly returning to his senses, he put his flashlight to good use. With one of the dead's fangs inches away from his face, he gagged it with his flashlight and attempted to scurry away. Murdoch, on the other hand, was slowly regaining consciousness when he could hear his name repeatedly being called by his restrained comrade. As he struggled to stand, he could be no more grateful that he wasn't the one amongst the bodies of the dead. He winced as his palms were cut by glass in the process.

Vince kicked and punched as much as he could, landing a few blows that barely did anything to the nerveless critters surrounding him. He steamrolled onto them, pushing the most threatening ones' faces into the ground and attempting to creep away from their bodies as the remaining Infected later fell down the stairs. In a dire hurry to escape, he left his flashlight lodged in the mouth of the one Infected to his left, having its rotting cranium illuminate from the inside out, noticing a majority of the bone matter was missing, seeing visible veins as if they were wiring. And although Vince kicked more and more, it became more of a disadvantage as he grew tired. One of the Infected, no matter how many times it was punted in the face, was left unfazed by the dent gradually made in its forehead. Successfully grabbing the hold of Vince's leg, it bit into the Achilles tendon. Reactively, Vince let out a blood-curdling scream—so loud it could be heard among the commotion. Although it was the most common thing to happen, no one wanted to truly believe it once it happened to them. They had to either convince themselves that maybe something else happened. But shortly after that first chomp, he felt a second one on his elbow. With no time to fight back, or else he'd be devoured, he kept on trying to break free, using his other foot to knock the first Infected's teeth in. Eventually, he slipped out of the mass and barely crept away until his back rested onto something that felt like a chair.

Murdoch, who was now standing, could barely make out a thing in the darkness. Cautiously feeling around, his foot kicked something that managed to roll away. Figuring he knew what it was, he quickly made out a flashlight as he felt around the object and spanked it a few times until it properly worked. After a couple of taps, the light flickered and beamed through the room. He pointed it in the direction of Vince's voice, who was in a state of shock. He was panting heavily, holding a wounded elbow and being connected to a trail of blood that dripped from his lower leg. Murdoch, at this point, was so stunned that he nearly fainted. He trembled, having difficulty holding the light still. He had not one clue how he could help Vince since a bite meant that you were practically a dead man walking. And despite one of the Infect being lured in the light, Murdoch couldn't seem to snap out of it. Subconsciously, Murdoch probably knew that there was no way out of this and that was probably why he was willing to give up.

Suddenly, the gates of the museum were beginning to lift at an average speed. Like Murdoch, the dead were suddenly attracted to the sudden noises. Instantly, a bullet shot Murdoch's pursuer in the head, causing blood to splatter diagonally on Titus' face. Seeing that he was trapped in the darkness for so long, he reacted sensitively to the natural light from the outside. Suddenly, two figures in riot gear entered,

"You take care of him, I got this one," one male voice said.

"Copy," a woman replied.

Speechless, Murdoch held up his hands as requested, leaving the other guard to enter and silence every other Infected that her partner did not.

This left the room open to one sound only: Vince's soft cries from the pain. The woman examined his body through her faceguard. As it turned out, Vince was bitten in other places too, seeing little exposure of his shinbone, but he was infected nonetheless even before acquiring that. Dora entered the museum once she noticed from a distance and briskly entered the museum until she was held back by the gunwoman,

"Step back, ma'am, we aren't finished here."

"I need to see if he's okay!"

The officer took off her headgear, revealing a pretty brunette with hair traditionally cut like a boy's,

"I understand, but I have to report this in. Please, just wait."

"Report? Report to who?" Murdoch questioned from across the room.

They didn't answer, but Dora humored them by doing what was requested of her. She was extremely impatient, looking at Vincent with sorrow she couldn't verbalize. All she could think about is what this could mean for the community. The officer grabbed hold of the radio clipped unto her vest and spoke into it, "This is Officer Kimper, update on the B&E—Just some survivors who accidentally tripped off the alarm," she looked back at the officer safekeeping Murdoch, being reassured of his condition, "We count one casualty."

"How serious?" an unseen person responded.

"Critical," Kimper bit her bottom lip, "They're infected."

"Do we eliminate the target?" the other officer suddenly intervened on his radio.

That nearly sent everyone into a frenzy, which caused a response of having all guns pointed at them. Although Kimper was doing what seemed like her job, she was opposed to her partner asking such a question in front of the victim's party. Knowing him, it was something he was desensitized—even before all of this.

"Negative," the voice on the other end of the radio replied after a long wait.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief and Kimper stepped aside so Dora could tend to Vince. Murdoch eventually came to his side to help him up as well,

"What the hell happened?!" Dora whined.

"That doesn't matter right now," Murdoch responded, "We have to help him!"

"Where the hell is Bart?!" Dora asked out loud.

This prompted Kimper to exchange glances with her associate. Questioning if Bart fit a given description, the male officer described the mysterious man to the T, and once they confirmed that he was the man they were waiting for, they were instructed to follow.

The group took a ten to twelve-minute walk until a small police station came into sight. Outside were two officers armed with machine guns that felt fit for a military soldier.

Although the four-person party was welcomed into the station by Kimber and her ally, dirty looks from other officers in the lobby said otherwise. However, they looked like regular civilian folk, dressed in attire to match. Carlos never felt too fond of cops seeing that he ran into trouble with them several times in his early teens but he didn't have much of a choice now.

The location was quite small, reaching another doorway after taking only a few steps from where they entered. They approached a door that looked like that of a typical high school principal's—wooden with aquatex glass that avoided anyone from getting a clear look at what was going on inside. Kimber the door's knob and held the door open from the outside, letting each of them inside.

Bart was sitting in a chair almost as if he were waiting for something to happen. Although he was unsure of these strangers, he just hoped that his information would have been able to save his friends in case they were in any danger—and he was completely correct. Once he saw Carlos being the first to enter, Bart stood up from his chair, thankful but apologetic for not being able to return any sooner. From the sidelines, a couple of other officers watched his exchange with his comrades. With Vince being the last to limp in, Bart's elation completely vanished once he witnessed his state. He was trailing in blood from the moment he stepped into the lobby.

"What the hell happened?" Bart's eyes nearly jumped out of his head, offering Vince his seat.

"Don't worry about it!" Murdoch spoke up in embarrassment.

The second officer that tagged along with Kimber finally took off his helmet, revealing an average looking with curly hair. Suddenly, a young girl wandered into the office, taking him by surprise by tackling his legs and referring to him as her father.

"Most people have a family here," he clarified, after exchanging some weird looks with the new group.

Most surprised of all was his daughter when she saw Vince's leg. Unfortunately, it was nearly impossible to shield your children from seeing the world crumble before their very eyes, so a little exposed flesh and bone was nothing new to her. In fact, she kept staring at it until her mother came in after her. A young woman who very much reminded Dora of her daughter.

"Take her back, babe. Daddy's busy right now."

His wife stared at the newcomers,

"Is everything okay, Richie?" she questioned, obviously concerned for Vince.

However, the concern wasn't something that Richie wanted his wife nor daughter to display right now, especially considering the careless attitude he gave off on their initial meeting. He assured that everything was fine and practically shoved his wife and child out of the room. Even if these people didn't seem like a threat, he didn't want his wife or daughter getting caught in between this. Shutting himself inside with Kimper, he turned his attention back to the port residents,

"Where are you guys from?'

"I already told you, we're from Port Providentia," Bart said. Seeing that his ally was injured, he was beginning to grow irritable by the constant interrogation. He felt that if they were going to ask the same questions that they might as well be free to go, "And if you haven't noticed our friend here is dying! So we would like to get back home now so we can treat him!"

"There's no saving him…" Kimper sadly confessed, "And you know that."

As bold as Brad was becoming, he reclined to being a prisoner after those words were spoken. That's when it was also revealed to each and every one of them that they weren't allowed to go anywhere until they were all questioned, and if their answers just so happened to match up, they were free to leave. This, already, didn't sit well with anyone given that Vince's life was pretty much on the clock. They didn't like feeling under arrest, especially since they felt they did nothing wrong. This morning, they left thinking this would be some field trip but maybe that was just another rude awakening. They never thought about stumbling into other territories nor did they ever have to deal with intruders themselves. Thankfully, before everyone got sidetracked, Dora asked the question that should've been everyone's main concern,

"And what about our friend?" She asked, referring to Vince.

"We'll take care of his wounds," Richie said, sounding pestered. He was growing annoyed by the fact that these people couldn't see that they only wanted to help them, "You should all be grateful we didn't shoot him and throw him in the water."

"Richard!" Kimper shouted in disgust.

"You're not taking care of anything," Carlos finally spoke up, he was sickened by Richie's attitude from the beginning. God only knows what spat happened between them just before the museum gates were lifted, but it wasn't anything good apparently, "He stays with us or you aren't getting shit from us."

Richie sized up Carlos and took a step forward,

"By all means, man, if you know how to bandage that up, be my guest," he teased with a smug look.

"Please," Vince finally mustered up the strength to say. He sounded hoarse and already looked off-color, "Please, I beg of you, I have a daughter back home."

Any child was a good parent's weakness and from the looks of it, Richie was a damn good father for his little girl to run into his arms the way she did. It was a typical 'what if it was you"' situation. And although Kimber was already open to giving them the preferred option, he just wanted Richie to stop pretending for once and feel a bit of empathy. Without giving much of an answer, Richie reached for a basin for everyone to put their weapons in for safekeeping. Everyone else knew it was because they wanted to be seen as less of a threat, but they complied either way. Even though the law was over with, the only thing that stopped them from rebelling was being outnumbered because they clearly stood no chance.

"Now that you have our weapons do you mind if we have some time alone?" Dora asked respectively, "That's all we want."

"Not a chance," Richie denied without skipping a beat.

"You're keeping us here against our will, the least you can do is let us catch up with one another," Carlos sided with Dora.

Just as Carlos did, Richie inched closer to him, ready to test if Carlos' fists had as much fight in it as his mouth did. Suddenly, a third man entered the room, someone with a notable status since it caused Richie to obey like some obedient German Shepherd.

The third man wore a stained white shirt, jeans, and an outworn cap. Believe it or not, he was the chief of police and he was a lot friendlier than Richie from the looks of it. He went by Officer Fredrick but insisted that they all call him Chandler. He personally shook every one of their hands and asked for their names and kept his composure after noticing Vince's condition. Kimber, being considerate, pulled him aside and vouched for the group and requested that they have some time alone to discuss whatever personal matters they had going on. With Richie simultaneously barking over his shoulder he succumbed to both of them. Giving the group leeway, but not too much. He held up all fingers, giving them five minutes max to talk about whatever it is they wanted to discuss. At the request of Officer Chandler, everyone else exited the room. The only exception was a medic, who walked into the room and tended to Vince's wound, immediately wrapping it in bandages to slow the bleeding.

Vince was growing weaker by the minute and had fully passed out in the seat. To make sure he wasn't dead, the medic continuously monitored his breathing. Eventually, he was wheeled out of the room and the rest of the group was left alone. By now, there was only one person who should've done most of the talking,

"Titus, what happened in there?" Dora questioned.

She stood like a mother ready to scold a child since that was all Murdoch was in her eyes. He, however, wasn't going to stand for that,

"What the hell do you mean what happened? You saw what happened, he got bit!"

"How did he end up getting bit?" Carlos spoke up next, "Before I had to help Dora because you left her behind, there was no Infected in sight when Vince and I were by that museum."

Murdoch looked over as Vince was getting wheeled out of the room, satisfied that his unconscious friend couldn't tell them the whole truth and humiliate him. As somber and terrifying as this moment was, he didn't want them knowing the truth, or else they'd blame him.

"It all happened so fast. They just snuck up on us," he said.

Carlos leaned on a nearby desk,

"Did you try to help?" he paused, "Or did you run?"

"Of course I tried to help!" Murdoch scoffed nervously.

"I have a hard time believing that considering you left Dora behind," Carlos said, essentially verbalizing her exact thoughts, "Remember that?"

"You what?" Bart turned his attention to them in disbelief.

Yes, Murdoch remembered. He gulped as he glanced at Dora's carving glares. If it wasn't obvious by now, the dead was terrifying enough to throw him out of character. They made him want to jump out of his skin. He couldn't stand the sight of them for various reasons. Most importantly, he didn't want to face them—he couldn't, especially after knowing he lost his wife and child to them.

"I-I did try," Murdoch tried again, "Didn't you hear my gun go off?" His voice, along with his palms, began to quiver. He felt attacked, and the last thing he wanted was to be blamed for Vince's incoming death, "I tried shooting, but there were just too many of them, and when they took the first bite, I froze, okay?!"

No one could tell if he was lying or telling the truth because none of them were there to witness it, unfortunately, so interrogating him any further wasn't the answer.

"Well...we did forget to replenish before we left," Dora added, buying the likeliness story.

Luckily for him, they did hear the gun go off. So he was safe from the scrutiny for the time being. Obviously, things were too overwhelming at this point, and the interrogation didn't make things easier. Carlos was determined to question Titus, hoping he'd fold like a piece of paper, but thankfully, Dora thought it was best to give the questioning a rest seeing that enough unfortunate things were happening to them today. Also, in just a couple of minutes, they'd be the ones interrogated.