Eliza nodded, her appreciation of Naomi's generous offer to stay together at least for a while, obvious in the relief that lit her eyes.  She looked from the shivering, trench coat-wearing woman to the man whose coat she undoubtedly was wearing and assumed that they were together. If not romantically then at least as traveling companions.<br/><br/>"Dad's not that kind of a doctor.  He's an anthropologist."  She was beginning to catch her breath and as she did so she scanned the bank they had just left.  About a dozen Walkers could be seen along the shore, some walking to and fro, others walking right into the water as if it didn't exist. There was no distinguishing trait that indicated why some did one thing and some did another. It seemed random.<br/><br/>Her father was using his hands to squeegee the water off his clothing. "I study people. She fixes them," he pointed towards his daughter. "Shoulda been a real doctor but she likes the<i>excitement</i>, the 'whoo whoo' of the lights and sirens," he made flashy movements with his hands to match the sound effects. "Should have gotten married to that nice young man, Jacovich, back before you got<i>old</i>."<br/><br/><i>"Daddy!"</i>As the two talked it was apparent that she was dedicated to him but despite his obvious education and intelligence something was beginning to go in his mind. Almost as if he didn't quite accept the predicament they were all in. Eliza flushed red and stood up, frustrated and embarrassed. How could he embarrass her even now, when the world had fallen apart and all those things that used to mean so much didn't matter any longer?  She quickly swiped her hands through her hair, brushing the collar-length locks back as she squinted to the far side of the river.<br/><br/>"That's a long swim," she muttered as she ignored her father's ongoing prattle about Jacovich being a lawyer and buying a nice home in the Hamptons.  He was pulling out his journal to log more entries into it, and when he saw that the book was soaked he began to curse in Yiddish.<br/><br/>_  _  _  _  _<br/><br/>"Pe-ew!"  The sound of a gunshot rang in the air, audible across both banks of the river.  In truth Herrington Lake was a long, skinny 'river' that was only about a fifth of a mile wide, but it was deep in many areas and stretched thirty-five miles from end to winding end.  Were our heroes to travel south they would find that the lake was created by a dam across Dix River, a narrow tributary off the Kentucky River. But they were busy surviving and such things were probably not on the top of their list of curiosities.<br/><br/>Sai's shaking hands failed her; the bullet hit the male Walker in the right shoulder, sending it back a step before it staggered forward once again. Thankfully for her they were not in the best of shape and moved slowly, but they moved without needing rest and would pursue her relentlessly until they could feed.<br/><br/>In her fearful state she didn't realize her finger had tried to pull the trigger a second time, but the soft grip she had on the stock resulted in the shell being caught in the chamber instead of fully ejected.  For the moment her gun was as useful as a small rock in her hands.<br/><br/>Out from her right a quick movement streaked by, a tall human in dull colored clothing and swinging something at the Walker.  The top of the rotted head came off with a sick squishing sound and the release of foul odors. The second Walker, the one in the prom dress, went down quickly once Sai's unexpected helper swung his weapon around and used the spike end of the tomahawk to pierce it's skull.<br/><br/><a class="link link--external" href="http://img3.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140515212603/thehundred/images/a/a1/LincolnFullCrop2.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">He turned to look at her</a>. His eyes were dark and his skin covered in brown grey mud, as if to camouflage him from seeking eyes.  Under the mud his skin was a rich dark brown that matched his eyes.  He put an index finger to his lips as if to shush her and then pointed towards the bank, where a few deer paths led to the left and the right. About two thirds of the way across the river she could see a half-sunken small ship or large boat, and on the boat, if she looked, were a few moving bodies. They didn't move with the halting stagger of the undead, though; they were people. Live people.<br/><br/>And live people were either a terrible danger or a source of safety.