“Yes. An ill-advised voice of action, and one which most likely crippled any chance of an effective response.” He laced his fingers together, and Dahlia saw that the dark gloves he wore were very thin. More like silk than canvas. “Since the collapse of the infrastructure I have been endeavoring to do what I could to help people get to places of shelter, and to organize so that they can survive in community form. We need to build our numbers because survival of the species requires a deep gene pool. Do you understand that?”

Dahlia nodded. A few others did, too.

“Being out here in the same woods as your group is not an accident. I became aware of you a few weeks ago and positioned myself where I was likely to be found. Your scouts work in a grid pattern, so I made sure that they would find me on a day when it was convenient for me. I made the same offer to the scouts that I have made to you. They chose to run. Fair enough. They aren’t on the policy level. They reported back and you came to find me. It was unfortunate and disappointing, though not particularly surprising, that you came to attack me. That could have worked out very badly for you. None of the injuries I inflicted are serious. All of you will be able to defend yourself if attacked by the living dead. That fact should be suggestive.”

Dahlia nodded again.

But Slow Dog asked, “Why? Why not just fuck us up and let us rot?”

“Or turn into walkers?” asked Serena.

“I’m not a fan of killing unless there is a tactical or strategic win involved. You are not formidable enough for that level of response from me.”

“Ouch,” said Nathan.

“And,” continued the old man, “you are potentially more useful to me, and by extension the world, if you’re alive.”

“What do you mean?” asked Dahlia.

“You are not good at what you do, but you could be. You’re all very young, very strong, and you have some experience with combat. I could bring you to a higher level of efficiency. I could train you to become a much more powerful and useful team.”

“Why the hell would you want to do that?” asked Jumper, finally able to join the conversation.

“Because the war that we’re fighting should only have two sides,” said the old man. “Us—the living—versus them—the dead. The nature and severity of this crisis should have been an eloquent statement about the folly of warfare as we’ve always known it. Lucifer 113, after all, was created as a bioweapon. With the death of billions of people, do we really need more of a lesson?”

No one spoke.