A man and a woman, each in their early thirties, make their way though a desolate landscape of little more than dirt and rock. Between them is a much, much older man, his arms draped over the back of their necks as they carry his frail body across the barren terrain. They've been journeying for so long, and finally they are able to stop as they stand before a massive black gate.

A tall black fence, easily three times their height, stretches around the military-style compound situated just at the edge of a dense forest. A massive net hangs above the entirety of the base, over which rests a collection of loose foliage, a layer of nature to hide the base on the ground from any eyes that might happen to be looking down from above.

“Freeze!” a man's voice calls out, and the weary travelers gasp, caught in surprise. “Get them in here, now!”

The black gate opens and six men clothed in riot gear-like outfits venture through it before quickly surrounding the new arrivals. Armed with advanced assault rifles, they keep their weapons fixed on the three outsiders.

“Move forward!” commands one of the soldiers, motioning towards the gate with his firearm. The group passes through the entrance and two of the men quickly return the gate to its sealed state.

“Who are you?! How did you find this place?!” barks the apparent man in charge as he looks the three strangers over, shifting his rifle's aim from one to another repeatedly.

“Please,” the woman cries out, bursting into tears, “my grandfather needs help! He's sick, you have to help him! Please!”

“What's going on here?” A new voice is heard, bringing the group's attention to a somewhat grizzled-looking man as he makes his approach towards them. He wears a short black beard on his face, and carries some sort of sheathed sword on his back.

“Lower your weapons, men.” The others comply, and the fierce looking man studies the three new arrivals to the compound. “Soldier, this man requires medical attention. See to it that he is delivered to the infirmary.”

“Yes, sir!” replies the soldier. He and two other men venture away from the group and quickly return with a stretcher. They carefully help the old man onto it, and carry him away.

“My name is Victor. I know right now you're wondering if you can trust me... if you can trust any of us. We're wondering the same about you. Please forgive my soldiers. They were just... well, you must understand. They can't be too careful. They have families here. They know that strangers at the gate could always be a threat. They were just doing their best to keep this place safe, but I am sorry if they frightened you.”

The woman watches nervously as the men carrying the stretcher disappear further into the distance. “Who is he?” the man asks her, noticing her concern.

“My grandfather.”

“Go with him. Our people... we'll do what we can to help him, and I'm sure you'd like to be by his side. I'll bet he would like that too.”

Two Weeks Later

“What do you remember, of the way things were... of how it all was, before?” asks the old man.

“Before the outbreak?” replies Victor, taking a sip from his glass and setting it back down onto the table between the two men. “I was barely twenty years old when it hit. But if you really think about it, things aren't so different now. It's like they say, the more things change, the more they stay the same.”

“What do you mean?” asks the old man curiously as he studies the face of the younger man seated across from him.

“People have been at each other's throats since the birth of our species. Fighting wars over control of land, objects, even people... anything you can possibly think of, you can be sure at one point or another blood has been spilled to determine possession of it.”

“Yes, you've certainly got a point there.”

“Human history is little more than a collection of murder stories. A book of genocide. In each chapter, a strong civilization conquers a weaker one, prospers for a time before inevitably falling to an even more powerful one, and eventually the cycle repeats itself. The truth is this: we killed each other before the outbreak, and here we are, years later, still killing each other. It's just human nature, I suppose.”

“Ah, you're quite the optimist, aren't you?” The old man chuckles before taking a sip from his own glass.

Victor offers the old man a kind smile. “Sorry for the depressing ramblings. I'm just... I've had a lot of time, seen a lot of things... I know how the world is. But despite all the darkness, there are still things worth living for. There's still good in people, even after everything that's happened, and I do what I can to protect that hope.

“I'll agree with you there. I can tell there's good in you. Everyone here, all these people... you really care about them. They trust you, I can see it. And that means a hell of a lot, trust is far from being a common commodity these days. I want to thank you for taking us in, my family and I.”

“Don't mention it. You're welcome to stay here with us as long as you like, but if you wish to leave, you're free to go.

“This really is quite the establishment you've built here. I can't imagine the work that went into constructing it.”

“This place is the result of the hard work of everyone living here. We've all contributed something to the effort, and of course we also owe thanks to the many men and women we've lost along the way.”

“So tell me, are you in command here all by yourself, or do you share the burdens of leadership with others?”

“No, it's... it's just me now.” Victor pauses, staring into the distance for a moment and sighing heavily. “There was another, some time ago. We ran things together, but he's... he's...”

The old man watches on as sorrow fills Victor's eyes. “No longer with us?” He asks softly.

“No. No, he's no longer with us. I have faith that he's still alive. That's he's out there somewhere, surviving, just as he always did. Just as we always did.”

“Oh, I assumed you meant he was dead. What happened, then? Why is this man no longer a part of the community you both worked to build?”

“It's, well, you see, there was an incident. His name was Reeve. For so long he was the closest friend I had in this world. But over time we began drifting apart. We had different ideas, different thoughts about how to lead the group, things like that. We disagreed more and more as time went on. One day, something happened... the incident... and it sent him over the edge. He left, voluntarily, with a few like-minded men whom chose to accompany him. And that's... that's the last day I saw Reeve. That's the day I said goodbye to my best friend... watched him disappear into the horizon.”

“What was it, the “incident?” What transpired that day to make him decide to walk away?”

“I... I'd prefer not to discuss that... I'm sorry, but I'm sure you can understand.

“Yes, yes, it's fine. I understand.” The old man nods his his head gently, and the two solemnly finish their drinks.