Allison surprised Frank when, out of the blue, she said, "Tell me more about these [i]good people[/i] of whom you speak."

He was certain that his hostess had dismissed the idea of bringing on more people outright or at least for the indefinite future. 

"I'm not saying I'm ready for something like this," she told him. "I'm just saying ... I'll listen."

The delight in Frank's face was obvious. He'd always been happier living in a group. He'd had a large family with many siblings and cousins. He'd joined the Army and been part of an assault team and, later, a search and rescue team, both of which had required working close together. After his discharge, he'd almost always chosen jobs where he was working closely with others. (Unfortunately, he'd never been able to keep any of those jobs long, for one reason or another which were sometimes his fault but most often not.)

He'd been holding Robert in his arms but now put him in a second smaller playpen he'd fashioned just for the porch. Going inside to fetch two more McGee ales, Frank returned to say, "Okay, first, let me tell you about Greenburg, where Jennifer and I were for the last couple of months."

Allison had heard of Greenburg, which shouldn't have surprised Frank as it was only 50 miles away. She was also aware of the distribution center that served [i]McConnely's[/i], a chain of grocery stores spread across Southern Montana and Northern Wyoming. 

"When the pandemic struck and people started going nuts," Frank went on, "the Governor sent a Company from the National Guard to secure the distribution center. Unfortunately, most of them were already infected. Everything went to shit, and after a while a civilian militia came in and took control of the center. They killed all of the soldiers who hadn't already died of I-55 and took control of the town.

"There were maybe 200 people left alive," Frank told her, sipping at his beer. "They weren't all locals, from Greenburg. Some had heard there was food there. Some were passing through and the militia just didn't let them leave. That's what happened to Jennifer and I. I was ... what's that word ... [i]Shanghaied[/i] into their military after they learned my history."

He unfastened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled the lapel aside to reveal the Army unit tattoo that he doubted Allison had yet noticed. He explained its significance, then continued, "They put me on unarmed perimeter watches, then scavenging runs, then armed security. I was helping keep the community safe ... helping keep law and order."

He went silent a moment, looking down at his bottle of beer as he recalled some of the things he'd been ordered to do. "It didn't take a genius to see that the militia was [i]not[/i] good for the community. People sometimes disappeared. Women were raped, more often than not against Uniforms without anything being done about it.

"When it was suggested that Jennifer could help the community by popping out more children ... presumably Immune children," Frank went on, his tone becoming angrier, "I knew it was time to hit the road. It took a few days to gather what we needed and get hold of a car. I thought I got us out of there without being seen, but ... well, you were there, so you saw how that ended."

He drained the last of his beer, continuing, "Anyway, people. I can name six off the top of my head."

Frank told Allison about three men and three women, though, he said there were others who he thought would benefit the estate. "Howard Cooper's a doctor, a surgeon, if I recall. More than that, he knows more about nutrition than anyone I've ever known. He told me once that he wanted to be a Naturopath, but he doubted that it would pay off his college loans or get him an ocean-going sailboat. 

"Paul Williams -- not the singer, by the way -- is kind of like me, an all-around handy man with experience that simply [i]abounds[/i]," Frank went on. "More than that, he's just a good guy who you can always depend on. He's the one who got Jennifer and I the car and cleared the way for us to get out of Greenburg. He's a hard worker.

"And Victor Sokolov would be worth having, too," Frank said, naming his third male choice. "He was a Ukrainian Army officer, here training with our Army on some surface-to-air launcher that was too new for me to have known anything about it. The pandemic stranded him here. He was in the militia with me, but -- just like me -- he knew it was an illegitimate organization and needed to be disbanded. That wasn't going to happen, though ... so ... he'd doing what he's told until he can get away, like Jen and I did."

Frank told Allison about his female choices, too, then finished, "I know how to get us back into Greenburg. I'll go in alone, but once I'm inside, I can make contact with those people you like. I can get in and get out in just a few hours, maybe less."

He looked toward the playpen, then to Allison. With a sincere tone, Frank asked, "If something were to go wrong ... if I wasn't able to get out again ... you'd take care of Little Bit ... right?"