A chipper voice sang through the intercom, wishing everyone a good morning and giving waking words of encouragement to get fellow citizens started on their productive day. The voice echoed through all levels and layers of the community, almost having at least one speaker along every wall. Like an alarm without a snooze button, the voice went on and spoke endlessly, attempting, as always, to get through to all of the individuals and families sleeping in their tents. The voice belonged to the one who was in charge of it all and he held a lot of pride in operating in what he believed was one of the most thriving communities in Toronto: A heavily fortified terminal renamed Port Providentia—previously known as Jack Layton Ferry Terminal. When the outbreak hit, the remaining staff stayed behind to reclaim the area and give themselves, their families, and the dock a new purpose. In the past, the ferries were a way of transportation. Today, it served as both a way to get around and a home for hundreds of individuals. It may have sounded like a lot but there was room left for plenty more and that was the leader's goal. The thing is that taking in new members was such a rarity, that anyone who lived there should consider it a privilege. So much went into accepting new members into the community. Background checks weren't possible so there were tasks and weeks of close examination, and so far, it didn't seem to let them down. Mass murders would turn their whole lives around just to be kept somewhere safe and cozy.

Endlessly bound to the docks of Port Providentia was the Destinee Montclair: A massive ferry that currently operated as a floating residence for those found fitting for the community. The Toronto ferries weren't typically big enough to be used as such, but they were upgraded. Shortly before the outbreak hit, the ferry company of the terminal launched three new reveals to the public: Larger boats capable of holding thousands of people—Destinee Montclair, lacking an official name in its former life, was one of them. There were eleven vessels in total and after the epidemic, the ten others vanished from the waters without a trace.

A blaring horn was heard, causing one of the tenants in a shared tent to shake and yell in fright. This tent, in particular, was isolated from the rest. Inside was an olive-skinned, gorgeous young woman with shoulder-length dark brown hair who languished on the broad chest of a shirtless young man about one to two years her senior. As cold as it regularly was, they were still warmed up from their body heat and the energetic night they had before. The brunette was startled awake from the second sounding of the horn, having her sickly hair droop over her shoulders and eyes. She groaned and reached over her partner's body, grabbing her wristwatch that fell off from their intimate activities the night before,

"Shit…" she cursed to herself. She reached over and shook her companion awake and sharply whispered his name about five times until he finally opened his eyes, "We overslept," she groaned, "My dad's going to kill me!"

"So what? Who cares?" the voice mumbled back through his sleepy lips. He slightly lowered his eyelids before he was slapped on the shoulder, "Ouch," he drowsily rubbed the inflicted area.

She hassled him, commanding him to get up. Soon afterward, they both carefully got themselves up and put their clothes over their visible undergarments, occasionally knocking their joints against one another. Once they were set, they climbed out of their tent briefly glancing at the few tents surrounding them.

Just as they were, people were also getting ready to begin whatever manual labor they had scheduled for them. Everyone who lived on the Destinee Montclair had a job to do and, of course, it had to fall within their skillset. They weren't just going to let random strangers who weren't fond of children be the weekend babysitter.

There was an unforgotten but unmentioned moment in time where a father nearly ended up beating a man to death for telling their child something extremely profane and that was something this community wanted to avoid.

Being on the lowest level of the four-tier boat, the brunette and her partner traveled to the margins of the deck of the boat and located a set of stairs that brought them to the main docking level. They walked, pushing past people who were going about their business, grabbing bagels and coffee.

To the captain, a true community was one that looked out for one another and helped it grow. He claimed it was what he was exposed to all his life and it was a mindset he wanted to keep going, even during chaotic times like these.

The lovebirds exited the boat and walked along the mechanical boarding dock that had the ability to be lifted after curfew. They strolled along and made it to land, walking past the waiting area of the terminal and exiting the booths that people were usually checked through into the community. However, before walking beyond that point, it was mandatory that they sign their names out—full government and all—along with the precise time. The woman behind the window—a heavyset redhead with naturally dark roots, handed them a clipboard and a pen. The brunette signed her name, marking "Vanessa Montclair" in outstanding penmanship. Followed by her friend, he wrote in cursive letters, signing "Carlos Sanchez" in somewhat of a lazy manner. He handed the clipboard back to the woman behind the caged-off booth and rushed to catch up with Vanessa.

"Dad!" Vanessa cheered as her father came into sight.

Her father, Vince Montclair, was the big wig of Port Providentia. As loving and hospitable as he was, he had other sides that he wasn't willing to show unless it involved the safety of his only daughter. Initially happy to welcome her into his arms, Vince's gaze wandered. He studied the young man lingering behind his daughter like some hound in heat. He proudly embraced her, wanting nothing more than his daughter to see multiple days to come. Pulling away from her, his eye was caught by a bright red mark on her neck—a hickey. When she realized he was staring at it for too long, Vanessa combed her hair over one shoulder, attempting to give it off as a casual gesture. She was unaware of the hickey but she had been confronted about them before,

"I didn't see you in your tent last night…" Vince called her out publicly.

"Dad," Vanessa started off with a sigh, "Please, I'm not a kid anymore."

She pursed her lips while avoiding eye contact and looked at Carlos inch closer to them both.

"Morning, Carlos," Vince waved at him wearisomely, forcing a smile.

"Morning," he responded back, picking up on some mild animosity, a reaction he was used to when it came to daughters and their parents.

"Morning, guys!" another voice called out from afar, having a pleasantly cheerful presence set itself apart from all of the other greeters.

Turning around, Carlos saw a familiar face he had longed to see for the last few weeks. Carlos' face lit up quicker than anyone else's surrounding him, feeling like his prayers had been answered in real-time. Pulling off a thick grey turtleneck, a navy alpine jacket, jeans, indigo-colored boots. Wrapped around her head and covering her ears was a thin winter headband, with a collection of former curls sprouting from the edges. Inevitably, the curls had now taken on a mind of their own over the months throughout all of the harsh trails it had to face.

It was Dora.

She and a few others were sent out to scavenge for some goods and hadn't returned for three days. Not returning for days, even weeks, wasn't something that was unheard of but it was natural to worry about the people you cared about, even when times weren't always as brutal as now.

Carlos couldn't have been happier to see her since it meant that his worst fears about losing her had been shot down. Revitalized by her presence, he practically ran up to her and stopped her halfway to the rest of her comrades, smothering her in a warm hug. Taken aback after they pulled away, Dora held his shoulders and looked up at him with a smile, searching his eyes to see if she could sense that there was anything going on with him.

"I'm just glad you're back," Carlos laughed, sensing her mental frisk.

She rubbed his shoulders before letting go and looked over at Vanessa who was now walking up to them, her hair being the thing failing the fight against the ocean breezes. They warmly greeted one another. Dora grew somewhat close to Vince in the short amount of time they knew each other and had no choice but to get to know Vanessa since they were constantly around each other. Other than the fact that Carlos was dedicated to chasing tail, they crossed paths even more when Vanessa became more friendly with him,

"Did you get it?" Vanessa asked her.

Dora gasped, remembering something. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a packet of candy. Twizzlers to be exact,

"They were out of chocolate bars."

"Aw," she chuckled, "I'm not a huge fan of Twizzlers," Vanessa politely declined.

Dora chuckled to herself and expressed that she was afraid that Vanessa, like many others, would say that about her youngest son's favorite snack. However, the effort couldn't go unnoticed. Hoping it would be seen as some sort of self-reward, Vanessa suggested Dora keep it for herself to enjoy. Remembering what she initially walked over for, Vanessa informed Carlos that her father wanted an extra pair of hands on the construction of the nursery in hopes of getting it finished before one of the passengers went into labor by the end of next month. Doing as ordered, Carlos and Vanessa walked off. Meanwhile, Dora looked down at the Twizzlers in her hands, she stared at it for an oddly long time before returning it into her back pocket,

"I know he's close to you but that boy better watch himself," Vince commented as he snuck up on Dora.

Dora let out laughter and playfully hit Vince's stomach as he giggled with her. Dora looked up, seeing Vanessa reach up to hold Carlos' hand.

"Hush, I think they're cute."

"This is the fourth time I found a hickey on her neck…"

She scoffed at him with a feeble smile and playfully rolled her eyes,

"They're in their prime, Vince. What else can you expect? What more could you ask for?" she shrugged, and started walking, "I'm sure you remember those days."

Vince removed his cap momentarily to rub his hands through his greying hair,

"I guess you're right," Vince admitted like it hurt, "I know but, she's all I got."

"A lot of people don't have that luxury anymore, you know."

Vince paused,

I didn't mean it like that."

Dora softly nudged him with a smile, knowing it didn't have any ill intent. She kept her past a secret from him, so she could only speak on behalf of other parents.

"I know. All I'm saying is that this is a moment a parent usually longs for. Just seems like you've been closed up in here too long," Vince looked over at Dora with a raised brow and although he didn't fully understand what she was saying, he was offended by the wording. Hoping for a more in-depth explanation, she elaborated, "When you go out there and see nothing but death, seeing kids like Vanessa and Carlos make you realize that the world isn't all that dead yet. It gives you a bit of hope."

"Alright, Ghadi," Vince commented with an exhale. It invoked more laughter amongst the two of them, "Seriously. Why don't you head inside and take a break for the rest of the day? You did well and I'm just glad you're back. Before Dora could refuse the offer, Vince gave more details, "You should think about holding off a bit. Vanessa tells me that Carlos tends to worry all night when you're gone like this."

Dora glanced over at Carlos as he was now walking along the decks with Vanessa,

"Really?"

"He stares out into the docks. I'm not trying to worry you or anything, just thought you should know."

Vince walked off and went back to work, claiming that her time of relaxation was more of an order than a question. Turning away with a smile, she followed the usual process of entering the ship. She approached one of the booths and removed her weapons which included an expandable baton and a fully loaded Glock 17—all weapons she was lucky enough to get after Carlos lifted them from an Infected police officer. Pandora showed her form of identification, which was a small black and white photo of herself printed on a piece of paper with alphanumeric data and a faux barcode. After her belongings were securely put away she proceeded to sign in. Finally, she boarded the ship with her hands deep in her pockets. She kept her head down at all costs, wanting to avoid seeing the families that were aboard the ferry. Seeing families together made her wonder where she went wrong as a mother. Four children—all gone. She traveled up to the highest most exposed level of the ferry. The higher she climbed, the stronger the sea breezes became. Normally, people were drawn to the cityscape of Toronto, but she always faced the opposite direction and stared out to the large body of water that stretched out miles back into the countryside, where she last resided before all of this could luckily fall into her lap. Reaching into her back pocket, she pulled out the packet of Twizzlers. She brought it up to her lips, and just as she was about to tear it open, she froze before deciding to place it back. Not yet, she told herself. If she was awarded the moment she had been longing for, she knew exactly what she wanted to do with it.

What Vince didn't know is that Vanessa and Carlos would give themselves breaks and sneak off onto the navigation bridge, at the top level of the ferry, and fool around with each other—and that's exactly what they were doing at this time. No one ever caught them and during working hours were the only times they got to be secluded from everyone else. Vanessa buttoned up her sweater and searched around for her earring. However, Carlos wasn't going to stick around—he rarely ever did. Poor Vanessa was fooled to believe that there was something momentous going on between her and Carlos, or she at least hoped that things would get going. He stood by the doorway, observing the other navigation bridge on the opposite side of the massive ferry,

"Found it!" she exclaimed in happiness, "My dad would've killed me if I lost these," Carlos silently gave an 'mhm' while keeping a lookout. Vanessa chortled at his paranoia and stood up from where she was crouched, "Will you relax? We aren't going to get caught," Clearly not paying attention to her, she snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist while he continuously peered out from behind the window. Frightened at first, he managed to maneuver her underneath his arm,

"So...I was wondering," Vanessa sounded ever so relaxed when she was around Carlos. Something about his presence always calmed her, "Does this mean anything?"

Carlos looked down at her underneath his armpit and awkwardly moved his eyeballs around. He removed his arm from her shoulder to get a better glimpse at her,

"Does what mean anything?"

She hesitated,

"I don't know. Whatever's going on between us."

"I thought we agreed we weren't—"

"I know we said we weren't going to talk about it but...I just feel like we should at least address it," they both participated in the awkward pause, "I just feel like things changed since then."

Carlos disagreed. He didn't want to express any type of feeling about being in like with Vanessa. Even if they were gaining feelings for one another, they strictly came to the agreement that this relationship between them would have no strings attached because it would personally be better for them. When he first met Vanessa she was extremely guarded and defensive. She wouldn't do as much as talk to Carlos until she just gave in one day. She opened up to him more than anyone else on the boat and she began to show her genuine self—more so of who she was before. Although the intention behind it was good, it snuck up on Carlos and scared him. Of course, his relationship with Vanessa meant a lot to him but it was something else he didn't feel comfortable putting on the line. He certainly liked her but he wasn't too sure if the feelings they had for each other were mutual on a macro level. Before Vanessa could bring up anything else, Carlos escaped by walking out the navigation room and down the stairs. To his surprise, Dora was resting by the railings, looking out to sea. Carlos slowly continued down the stairs of the bridge, attempting to not alert her. Once he made it down, he power-walked toward the steps on the opposite side that Dora stood on, which would lead to the lower level. However, Dora coincidentally turned around, apparently wiping tears from her cheeks,

"Carlos?" She recognized the build.

He stopped in his steps and turned around to face her. She approached him, but he lied, telling her he didn't notice her. Unaware that he had just snuck out of the bridge, she inquired about him being up on the top level, assuming that he was searching for her if not for any other reason. Finally, Vanessa unveiled herself and called Carlos from the bridge.

Noticing Dora as well, she announced to both of them that she found something that could change Port Providentia for the better. Putting two and two together, Dora made a playful face that only she and Carlos could understand,

"Don't judge me," Carlos smirked.

"I'm not, I'm not…" Dora paused, "I mean, Vanessa's such a sweet girl. I can't blame you for liking her."

Carlos looked away unsurely just before staring back at the bridge entrance,

"Yeah."

An awkward silence squeezed itself between both of them. At this point, Dora was essentially like a guardian to Carlos and there were just some things she could pick up on whether it was through a maternal instinct or their close relationship. Carlos opened up to Dora about things he hadn't even told his own parents and although it was in her past nature, she learned to reserve judgement. She understood that Carlos was still hurting over the disappearance of Ada and that it was inevitably having some type of effect on Carlos' relationship with Vanessa. At first, Dora thought the amount of time it took Carlos to recover from Ada didn't seem like a lot but she needed to understand that people coped with loss in different ways. Was it healthy? No. But it's a natural process.

"...Want to talk about it?"

Carlos shook his head.

Clearly misrepresenting the urgency of what she found, Vanessa took initiative and came running out of the bridge, locking it back with the key she stole from her father's office. She had an off-white file folder in her hand and passed it to Dora. Without the need to even be told anything, Dora opened it as Carlos read the documents over her shoulder. As wonderful as it would've been to get the first reaction from Dora, she ruined the momentum by not having a single clue of what she was reading. A city-woman of Dora's age just saw a stapled page with words, letters, and signatures she'd need reading glasses for. Carlos, on the other hand, read the words "Boat Dispatch" aloud. Being a New Yorker as well, Carlos wasn't all too sure what was being presented to them but he had an idea that it could've meant some good news on the boats.

They followed Vanessa back to the docks where she searched relentlessly for her father. Quickly approaching an individual with their hands full, With the stranger giving no objection at all, Vanessa took it upon herself to remove the walkie from their pocket and radio her father on his whereabouts.

After getting an answer after three tries, they located Vince, who was using one of the forklifts to transport pounds of rice stored in one of the cabins on the property. Vince was a hardworking man and once he got in the zone, it was almost impossible to get him out of it. Prepared to tell his daughter that the information could wait, she affirmed that it couldn't, trying her hardest to raise her voice over the machinery's motor. Seeing that his daughter wasn't giving him much of a choice, he powered off the forklift and stared at the files shoved in his face despite his irritated looks. After a moment, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of durable reading glasses with thick black frames, As he retrieved the files and flipped through the pages, Vanessa, Carlos, and Dora could see his expression begin to morph into something quite indescribable. Silently reading the text along the pages, he finalized by mumbling the words "holy hell" to himself. He jumped down from the forklift and whistled someone else over to pick up where he left off.

Vince summoned a good number of people, he considered dependable members of his community, to a small office of his. The office had traditional decor—wooden furniture and carpeted floors. Seeing that it was an office formerly owned by someone else, the books that filled the shelves and the photographs & paintings that hung on the walls weren't anything that pertained to Vince. Some would say that he only kept them up as a way to keep a dead memory alive.

He fixed the only photograph of him, his wife, and Vanessa on the desk before looking up at the inquisitive faces staring back at him behind his desk, some lurking behind others.

"Good afternoon everyone," he greeted, having everyone lacklusterly greet him back. He took a final look at the papers before resuming, "Thanks to Nessa, we have some pretty good news. We might've found another boat."

Expecting more of a cheerful response, he was kicked back after getting a bunch of mutters and confused faces. He elaborated, explaining that the paper given to him was a dispatch log that revealed where one of the other ferries last set sail, and that place was Toronto Islands—a small island park a couple of miles out from Port Providentia. It was where the ferries would formerly transport people during their daily commute and it was their primary operation to transport people back and forth. The listed date of its last departure was only a few days after the outbreak claimed its dominance,

"Why do we need another ferry anyways?" Passenger Titus Murdoch put it bluntly, "We have one right here and we're doing just fine."

Murdoch was Vince's right-hand man, or at least thought himself to be. But one thing he was sure of being was a long-time friend. He stood in the corner of the room with his arms firmly crossed across his chest. He was an opinionated gentleman who had more mouth on him than courage. Granted, he did his part when it came to contributing to Providentia but he was no match for the people who actually risked their lives by stepping out beyond the gates that kept him safely caged in. However, one thing about Murdoch is that he tended to say what was on everyone's mind. So despite his interruptions, it was a question that everyone wouldn't mind having answered. It was something to consider.

Vince went on to explain that a second ferry was something important if they wanted their community to grow. Although the ferries could hold thousands of people, on average, it was their living conditions that had to be thought about. An overcrowded boat wouldn't make a good community if they wanted people to sleep, eat, and raise children there at some point. Not getting much of a change in response, Vince was hopeful of this and decided it would be best to remain staunch,

"I'm gonna need some volunteers," Vince hesitantly announced.

The room was quiet and to feel as though he wasn't being let down, Dora was the first to answer. All of the faces in the room looked over at her, feeling anything other than shame for not responding quickly enough as she did. If anything, they probably pitied her with how she often broke her back for god-knows-what. Shortly afterward, Patricia Rothenberg, another member with a blonde pixie cut and glasses, volunteered as well. Although others did want to see the community grow, it needed to take more than a single piece of paper for them to risk some lives. Seeing it as the right opportunity, Murdoch ceased the silence. Questioning exactly how they were going to get to Toronto Islands. Vince already knew that taking the Destinee was a foolhardy thing to do, but he figured it'd be a risk worth taking, even if it meant letting people vacate the ferry and clutter indoors for as long as it had to,

Suddenly, Patricia spoke up,

"We can take my family's old speed boat," she looked around at the members surrounding her, "Our boat can carry a good seven or eight people..."

"That's wonderful," Vince smiled, "Where is it?"

"Still be back at our garage," Rothenberg sounded unconfident, "That is...if someone hasn't stolen it."

Vince patiently looked at all of the other conflicted faces in the room. Some looked away tensely while others pridefully stood their ground and remained neutral—Murdoch being one of them. Although he was far from thankful, Vince thanked everyone for attending and dismissed them all except for Dora. Murdoch, however, stood behind, believing that he deserved the right to be a part of whatever conference was going to be had with her,

"Have a seat," he offered, motioning her to one of the seats in front of his desk. After she sat down, he gave it to her straight, "I need you to sit this one out."

"Why?" she gave a brittle smile, attempting to cover up the offense.

Truthfully, he was becoming worried about Dora. He gave a quick disclaimer that she was a deeply respected member of the community, especially for the amount of work she'd put in and essentially making a name for herself in the short amount of time that she's been there...but there was a lot of hearsay going around about her physical state and there were times where she just plain overworked herself. Before giving a response, Dora looked over her shoulder rather uncomfortable with Murdoch's presence. She gave Vince some signals that prompted him to make Murdoch bitterly exit the room. He believed that if he truly was the captain's right-hand man, he deserved to be let in on what was going on in the heads of the members of his community. For the sake of different perspectives, he thought it was important to know.

"Sorry about that, Titus can be a little…"

"Overbearing?"

"A pain in the ass is more like it," they both chuckled, but Vince made sure not to let it dissuade their conversation. He folded his hands onto his desk and looked at Dora as if he was trying to dissect her with his eyes, "Why do you work so hard, Dora?"

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, thinking whether or not she should be honest with him, because that would mean being honest with herself,

"I get…" she thought of a proper word that would best embody how she felt on a daily basis, "...lost sometimes. In my own mind, in myself, in other people...I get lost in so many ways if I don't have something to keep myself busy," she nervously picked at her nails as she watched Vince's puzzled face. She exhaled, thinking of the perfect way to get him to comprehend, "You told me to have off today. And when I did, I just kept tormenting myself with thoughts from the past," she sighed, "It didn't stop."

"Family?" He slouched back in his chair, "I think this is the first time I've ever heard you mention family."

A suspension occurred for a while between their exchange. Dora thought it was the perfect time to be brutally honest with Vince and especially herself,

"I failed them, Vince. I thought everything I was doing for my family was to protect them but it only made things worse. And yes, people will tell me over and over again that it's not my fault but as a mother? What more can you do other than blame yourself when your children are gone?" she began to choke up, "Besides, I made some really stupid decisions," Dora sighed once again. She thought about how she exploited Arne's love for his son as a way to get into Canada, but now she was in a place she barely knew her way around and she was sure her kids felt the same, "I should've stayed in New York."

"How many were with you?"

"Three," she looked up at him, "My son, my daughter, and my niece. Carlos was with us from the very beginning. He thinks I don't know, but he was dating my daughter," she forced in a chuckle. Vince nodded in silence but also in understanding. Dora was never this open about her life before. She lied and said that she and Carlos had met only recently but there was something about their relationship that just felt a little too personal. They had both been through so much and they evenly shared that pain. No matter how long strangers knew each other, the type of trust that Dora and Carlos had would take more than just a few months to build in the apocalypse. Dora continued, "I thought covering up my past would make me not think about it but it's done nothing but make me feel ashamed," she opened up. She could see Vince nod—who would know what was the right thing to say? "Carlos and I were in some pretty bad shape when you first found the both of us months ago. You could've really left us behind but didn't. You welcomed us."

"And I don't regret it one bit," he smiled.

Dora smirked back,

"I guess it all just makes me a little too optimistic about there still being good out there. That's why I want to do this. Or else I'll just end up feeling lost again. What Port Providentia stands for is something big. You help people. It's the only way to keep my mind off things and being here makes me feel like I have a purpose. So, please. Let me do this."

Captain Vince would be a straight-up asshole to shoot down Dora after what she just shared with him so he allowed her to go but under the condition that he tag along. There was no way he could have a freshman of his community show him up like this.

Dora got up and approached the office's exit, seeing that the door was left slightly ajar. As she exited, she froze at the sight of Murdoch, who was standing close by the doorway. He pulled a cigarette away from his lips and let out a big puff of smoke away from her direction. Dora glared at him for a moment or two, suspecting that he was trying to eavesdrop. Before turning away and marching off, he winked at her.

Already prepared, Dora impatiently waited by the fortified gates of the Port for almost an hour until Vince finally arrived with a group of people. He was accompanied by Patricia and her husband, Bart. Hurrying behind them was a teenage boy, probably about fourteen years of age. He seemed to be bickering with them the entire stroll there and from the look on Vince's face, the teen angst was beginning to get to him. Once they came within earshot, Dora could hear what the young boy was going on about. Long story short, he wanted to tag along, giving various reasons as to why his company would be beneficial. One that really stood out to Dora was when he specifically recalled a time where his father wasn't around when it all started. Allegedly, Bart was too busy being with his "second wife" and it was completely up to their teenage son to keep his mother safe. Dora turned away once those words escaped his mouth, wanting to avoid the airing out of such dirty laundry. It was shameful to hear a young boy say such foul things to his parents in the company of others but, admittedly, everyone liked a little drama,

"Cut it out, Joseph," Patricia groaned, "I told you, you aren't coming with us and that's final."

"I can take care of myself!" Joseph defended.

"Well, this time isn't like last time. It's gotten worse out there," Bart intervened, "Now go back to the ferry, we'll be back soon."

"This is such bullshit."

Excusing the swearing, they each gave Joseph a peck on the forehead and watched him grouchily return back to the ferry. Patricia turned to look at Dora, immediately able to pick up on her generosity to pretend as if she wasn't listening,

"Sorry about that," Patricia nervously grinned.

"It's fine. They usually become outspoken around that age."

Patricia silently became excited,

"You have any of your own?"

"Four," Dora answered vaguely.

"Oh, wow," Patricia exclaimed as she prepared herself. She zipped up her jacket, "Not to sound like a downer but...if we survive this, we could probably introduce them sometime."

Dora suddenly became tongue-tied. Bart, on the other hand, lost color in his face from secondhand embarrassment. Feeling like an absolute asshat for not fully realizing the losses that people had to sustain, Patricia reached her arm out to Dora and began to apologize before Vince could purposely cut the tense interaction short. They separately walked off around the side of the port where a majority of the occupants' vehicles were parked. Ultimately, Vince wasn't able to tag along because he had to get things prepped for the journey to Toronto Islands. Meanwhile, that was understandable, the issue of Dora's party being too small was an issue. So, joining last minute was someone Dora and the Rothenberg's had never gotten the chance to meet. The gentleman introduced themselves as Deyvis, a surprisingly well-groomed man. Deyvis was in his mid 30's and was arguably the best equipped.

He was the last to enter the truck and fascinated everyone with a jet-black recurve bow. Raised by a well-off family, Deyvis was into competitive archery and took part in a multitude of competitions. Seeing that bows and arrows were one of the quietest long-ranged weapons, he was anointed the secret weapon in case something unfortunate happened—a burden he didn't ask to have thrown on him.

Now with a sufficient number of members, the Rothenberg's reversed out of the parking lot and safely drove out of the Port as the gates were opened at just the right amount of space. In the back seat, Dora turned around to look through the rear of the vehicle, briefing seeing Carlos as the gates slid back shut before Infected could wander in.

Due to blocked routes and roads known as claimed territory, the drive to the Rothenberg's neighborhood took longer than expected. Once it was finally reached, they parked in the center of a cul-de-sac and all exited the vehicle. There were able to make out about four visible Infected, strolling around the neighboring houses. Once that was acknowledged, the survivors each broke off to take care of their own,

"Quietly," Bart advised each of them.

Deyvis stood in place and put his proficient archery skills to good use, powerfully shooting an arrow at the Infected creeping up behind the truck. After the Infected's head jerked back, causing its feet to jolt up as it tumbled to the floor, Deyvis approached to retrieve his arrow. Dora had her eyes drawn to a particular Infected, one that was darker skinned and gaunt beyond normal means. She armed herself with her baton and with a simple flick of her wrist, it extended, revealing a sharpened end due to breakage. Although the Infected stood taller than her, she grabbed it by the throat and bum-rushed it into a porch's column while studying its off-white eyes and face. Thank god, she thought to herself. Holding the baton in a reverse grip, she drove it into its eye socket and let it fall to the ground. Everyone else watched her personal engagement in bewilderment, however, none of them bothered to question her about it given their current situation. There were other Infected in the area, but they were too far out of range to worry about. The Rothenberg's beckoned everyone to their home, where their garage was attached to the house and also faced the street.

"So this is your neighborhood, huh? Did you know any of these people?" Dora questioned generally.

"Just Gale," Bart pointed to Deyvis's kill, "We were never really too fond of him," he said, taking everyone by surprise, including his wife. He glanced over at her as they approached the front door, "How are we getting in?" Bart generally questioned, "Maybe we can bust out the windows?"

She made it clear that there was no need for that. Patricia reached into her pocket and pulled out keys that still granted her access to things such as her job, lockers, house, and her long-forgotten car.

"You still carry those worthless keys around?" Bart whispered as he opened the door.

"They're not so worthless now, are they?" Patricia defended her actions.

"I understand. I still carry around mine too," Dora attempted to comfort.

They casually strolled inside as if they were welcomed into their residency after some year-long family vacation. Patricia was nearly brought to tears as she looked at the family photos along the wall. Even Bart had a difficult time walking past the living room. The homey feeling it gave felt false, simply remembering what remained behind a locked door in the dining room. Dora remained outside, spread out from Deyvis as they went off dilly-dallying in the wondrous yet undead neighborhood. However, Dora glanced up the street, noticing that the number of Infected had most likely doubled from when they last observed it. Unsure whether they had been spotted yet, it wasn't a matter of if—but when. Dora entered the house, noticing Bart and Patricia enraptured by the personal memorabilia in their house. Attempting to snap them out of it, she warned them of the incoming herd, counting about nine of them. Bart returned outside while Patricia instantly hurried to the garage and lifted the garage door. Bart hopped into the truck and properly reversed it into the driveway by performing a k-turn, getting as close to the boat trailer as he could.

"They're coming..." Deyvis tuned nervously through gritted teeth.

"Quick, get it aligned and hitch it up to the truck!" Bart demanded.

Patricia was clueless about what to do. Instead, he encouraged his wife to switch places with him while Dora and Deyvis awaited the impending danger. It happened within mere minutes when the first Infected rushed towards Dora. Denying it access within a foot of her, she powerfully struck it across the face with her baton, slicing through enough of its face to make it drop. Before the second Infected, close behind the first, could reach Dora, an arrow swooped in from the side and pierced it through the head. Dora looked over, thanking Deyvis with her eyes and a nod.

Once Bart was finished hitching the boat to their truck, they called out for everyone to safely return to the truck. Like ants running to an anthill, they all jumped inside of the vehicle. Despite leaving their cherished home exposed and unsecured, Patricia carefully drove off and exited the block, non-lethally knocking into Infected along the way. The main concern to everyone was just making sure that they transported this boat in one piece.

The drive back was quicker than they expected and everyone resumed breathing once the Port's gates came into view. Accompanied with sharp metal rods and barbed wire on the outside to catch Infected lured in by the noise going on inside the Port, an active sniper, on the lookout, noticed the truck coming in from at least a mile away and the gates were instantly opened upon arrival. First witnesses of the boat were elated for the most part meanwhile others gawked at the incoming sea vehicle, still trivializing its purpose and Vince's naive intentions. Outside of the people he priorly spoke to in his office, not many knew about the plan that laid ahead.

Exiting the truck, every single one of them was checked for bites and ultimately welcomed back into the arms of their loved ones. Joseph ran into both of his parent's arms, Deyvis was kissed on the mouth by his lovely fiance, and Carlos greeted Dora with a hug,

"What now?" Joseph asked, wrapped in his parents' arms.

"We set sail," Vince simply stated.

That night after having dinner she helped prepare, with a couple of acquaintances, Dora had the chance to finally relax and have a breather. She was exhausted and sooner or later she'd crawl into her tent and knock out the first chance she got. At some point, she returned to the top tier of the ferry, looking out towards the ominous sea that extended into nothing but a dark abyss sprinkled with starlight. From behind, Murdoch crept up on her like a thief in the night before letting himself be known. Aside from his tall, slim build, his bitter personality was the essence that reminded her of her ex-husband. She never got a good vibe from him. She understood that he was one of the first people here and that he and Vince had a friendship that went on since childhood, so for the sake of everyone else around her, she tried to keep it cordial. He had a beak-like nose and endlessly wore a Blue Jays baseball cap with a pair of sunglasses he wore all hours of the day. Whatever was going on underneath those shades, Dora knew it was just a safeguard for whatever trouble his eyes could manifest. This time, the sunglasses sat over the visor of his cap, making it one of the rare times Dora could see what was behind the mask.

He rested on the railing just as she did and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Tapped it as he held the box upright, he removed a second cigarette after placing one in his mouth and offered it to her, to which she politely declined. This wasn't the first time he tried doing this and the excuse he used often was that no one barely had time for a good smoke anymore. Currently, it felt ominous and Dora felt vulnerable for some reason, looking around just to be sure she wasn't alone. Thankfully, there was a handful of talkative teenagers and two smaller children chasing each other around the platform,

"Surprised you haven't started yet," Murdoch spoke through tight lips, lighting the cigarette with a lighter.

"My father died from smoking and drinking and I had to send a brother of mine to rehab for the same thing," Dora explained, "Not that I'm judging," she threw in seeing a hint of shame in his reaction, "I just think it would make me a hypocrite if I started. To be truthful, with the way things are? I don't think I'd stop."

"Eh, who would blame ya?" He shrugged after taking another pull, "With the way Vince is running this shit, we're all as good as dead already."

Here we go. Talk therapy was more common now than it should've been a year ago but Dora just wasn't mentally equipped for it. She had her own issues to worry about. She respected Vince to a point where there was no way she could badmouth him, even if his relationship with Murdoch was in shambles,

"Just trust him," Dora defended, "Give him a chance."

"Yeah, well, the last time I trusted him, something really messed up happened," Dora didn't answer. Instead, Murdoch turned his head away to exhale more smoke, "He says we're supposed to be partners but he treats me like I'm some stupid lackey. He doesn't think I realize it because he thinks I'm an idiot."

"He's just treating everyone equally, that's all" Dora remained facing forward.

"Yeah, well, I heard him calling me a pain in the ass too," Murdoch aggressively held onto the railing, almost as if he were trying to bend it with his bare hands, "What an asshole," His entire demeanor changed to such a confident claim. He waited for this moment, "You wanna know something?" he began, "When we first started this place out we didn't have things figured out. We weren't really prepared for what was out there. One day, we ran into some troublemakers while we were out scavenging and Vanessa got separated from us. We came back to the Port and Vince made everyone search day in and day out for her. It was non-stop. A month went by and I just kept telling myself there was no way she could've survived. I swear, I was trying to be a good friend and my intention was never to hurt his feelings, but I expressed that to him. And you know what he said to me?" Dora kept her eyes on him, "That I was selfish and a bad friend to assume that his daughter was dead. So, about a month went by and we finally found her. Sleeping in some tiny playhouse in a backyard—dirty, tired, and thirsty. We brought her back, there were tears of joy, hugs, kisses—you name it, it was there," he took a long inhale of nicotine and exhaled, "At first, when the outbreak hit, Vince and I were working at the terminal. Both of us stuck together through everything. We had each other's backs. The things we saw out there?" Murdoch could tell by the look on Dora's face that, somewhere after the part where Vanessa was found, she was beginning to get lost. However, he didn't let up, "The funny part was after he got back to Vanessa and Destinee—It was like my wife and kids didn't even matter anymore. After everything we witnessed, I know he didn't mean it like that...but it felt that way. He made me believe that waiting was the best thing to do. So we waited...and waited...and waited some more...and we waited until we could finally decide it was safe to go out again and try again. But by the time I got back to my home, my family was gone," he looked away, almost like he was fighting emotion away like it was the greatest feat ever, and Dora had never seen anyone do it in such a seamless manner like Murdoch, "I never saw them again," he concluded, "Vince made a promise that we'd go looking for them. A year later and I'm still waiting for that promise to be fulfilled!"

"Titus, where are you going with this?" Dora feared.

"I never got along too well with people, even before this all happened. But finding Vanessa that day gave me something to be hopeful about. So, I waited a couple of days, let Vince get back in the right headspace and I asked—I said, 'I know it's been a while but I think we should really start looking for Geraldine and the kids again'. And do you know what he told me?" he paused, trying ever so calmly not to get overwhelmed with rage ignoring the hot cigarette ashes that inches closer to his fingers, "He looked me square in the face and said that 'it's been too long' and that I needed to 'face reality'," as expected, Dora was speechless, "He patronized me."

Dora struggled to get the correct words out,

"I-I…" she shrugged unsurely, "Maybe he didn't mean it that way…"

"What other way could he have meant it? You do all of this work for him, Dora, and you put your life on the line for him to get this stupid boat so he can heighten up his ego, but what do you get from it?!"

"A home…"

He flung his arm around at such a cliche answer,

"What's a home without a family? You think he'd ever want to send a search party out there to look for your son? Huh? Your daughter? What about your niece?"

Dora was stunned and gave a look of disbelief, almost like she had been unveiled. She hadn't confessed it to anyone, but her family was the true motivation behind her labor. She felt that maybe if she worked hard enough, Vince would've had the decency to organize something for her. A search party—something. But she was too prideful to admit that. Even if she had to look on her own, all she needed him to do was supply her with the means to survive. However, apart from that, Dora felt discouraged and that was the last thing she wanted,

"You listened to my conversation?" she scoffed.

"Look—"

"Why would you do that?" She fought her eyes from watering, "You knew that was a private conversation between me and Vince and you just tried to exploit it!?"

"Oh, quit being so dramatic."

"Dramatic?"

"All I'm saying is that Vince is gonna chew you up and spit you out just like he did to me. He only cares about himself and his daughter…"

"Well, Jesus! Can you blame him?!"

They began speaking over one another, Murdoch having way more volume in his voice,

"...And if you don't see that by now, you're dumber than you look!"

Dora shook her head in disbelief. The sympathy he at least managed to instill in her was carried off with the sea breeze.

"Screw you," Dora spat before angrily walking off.

"Right back at ya," He swiftly retaliated.

Dora stopped in her tracks and glowered in his direction a final time,

"You may have lost your family, and I'm sorry that happened to you Titus, I really am, but that doesn't give you a reason to try and manipulate me. Don't you dare mention my family ever again,"

"Or what?!" He antagonized, having to get the last word, "Just remember what I told you, Dora. That's all."

Murdoch briefly watched as she stormed off, also receiving inquisitive stares from the teens on the other side. Groaning to himself, he flicked the remains of his cigarette into the rippling waters down below.