Morning came quietly.
Too quietly for a camp that still remembered gunfire and blood. People woke with care, as if a careless word might shatter the fragile order that had only just begun to form. No jokes. No lingering over breakfast.
They gathered on their own.
No orders.
No shouting.
Harry stood near the center. Dark armor fit closely over his chest—worn, unadorned, without markings. It didn't look new. It looked proven. His sword rested nearby, still sheathed.
"You all saw what happened last night," he said evenly.
"So now we have rules. Not suggestions."
The silence was heavy.
"First," Harry continued, "the perimeter is not optional.
At least two people on every approach. Always. No exceptions."
Dale nodded immediately. A few others followed.
"Second," Harry said, his voice unchanged, "if someone dies—they turn.
Bite or no bite, it doesn't matter.
If someone goes down, they're secured immediately."
A tense murmur spread through the camp.
Carol went pale but didn't look away. Andrea pressed her lips together.
"And third," Harry said, slowly sweeping his gaze across the group, "if this camp is attacked—living or dead—we respond together."
"About damn time," Daryl muttered.
Shane
Shane stepped forward sharply.
"Funny how this works," he said hard. "One guy walks in, takes rifle fire to the chest—and suddenly we've got new rules."
Several people stiffened.
"You decide you're in charge now?" Shane pressed.
"No," Harry replied calmly. "I decided we either survive together or die one by one."
Shane's eyes locked onto the armor.
"I served," he said. "They don't issue that.
That's not military."
"No," Harry answered.
"Then what is it?" Shane demanded.
A few seconds of silence.
"Family armor," Harry said. "Old. Tested."
The word rippled through the camp.
"Family," Shane scoffed. "So you're some kind of noble, too?"
"I'm someone who survived," Harry replied. "That's enough right now."
"People will follow you," Shane said harshly. "Not because of rules. Because of that."
He nodded toward the armor.
"And if this camp fractures, that's on you."
"If it holds," Harry replied evenly, "that is too."
Shane said nothing—but he didn't look satisfied.
By the RV
Later.
As the camp began to disperse, Harry headed back toward his RV. Metal creaked softly as he checked the lock.
"Harry."
He turned.
Emmy and Andrea stood a short distance away. Not too close. Not defiant.
"If this is a bad moment, we can go," Andrea said.
"No," Harry replied. "Go on."
They stepped closer.
Only then did Harry notice Daryl nearby, sitting on a hood, cleaning his crossbow. He wasn't looking at them. But he was listening.
"We won't speak directly," Emmy said immediately. "And we won't use names."
Harry nodded.
"Our parents knew the rules of silence," Andrea added. "And why they exist."
"They told stories," Emmy continued. "Carefully.
About people who disappeared.
About families. About things that worked… differently."
Her eyes flicked to the armor.
"When they shot you," she said softly, "we understood."
"Not right away," Andrea added. "But we understood."
A pause.
"We're not asking in public," Emmy said. "We just want to know…
if you're the one from those stories."
Harry was silent for several seconds.
"Your parents were careful people," he said at last. "If they taught you how to ask like this."
He looked at them steadily.
"I won't confirm or deny anything.
But you're here because you know how to keep quiet."
"We do," Andrea said immediately.
"And we will," Emmy added.
"We'll talk later," Harry said. "Not now."
They nodded and left.
Daryl finally looked up.
"You know," he said quietly, "I didn't hear anything."
Harry met his gaze.
"But you understood," Daryl added.
"Yes," Harry replied. "And that's enough."
Shane
Shane saw only one thing:
A conversation he wasn't part of.
And that was enough.
There's something there.
And it's not for everyone.
His jaw tightened.
"Sooner or later," he muttered, "I'll find out."
Because the worst thing wasn't the armor.
It was that Harry had a secret.
End of Chapter 18