Some had gone, others were missing, things were quiet.  Jim stood guard at the gates of the eights. He was behind on his work because recent events of a breach of security at the apartments had put some in jeopardy. Now with so few around he stood like some lone soldier on a wall watching for the day armed men, authoritative soldiers, or herds of dead made their way to overwhelm the meager defenses of the eights.  He wished his realistic nature would overwhelm is stubborn need to hold the line, and he would just take his woman, Serena and retreat to the hills, but some how it had become a place of last stands. People lived here, and he wanted t believe that Julia, her sister, Gensa and the doctor, Trey and his friend and maybe the new woman Amy, and Therion and Jet could make a go of the place. What had all the work done to date meant, the cleaning, roof repair, plumbing, wiring, welding the fence together, meant if one by one they disappeared.  Some had gone on the long run over the bridge and never come back, maybe they died, maybe they got cut off or found something better.  Maybe it was the not knowing.  Things had become silent here, but it was his home and he and Serena would make a go of it, keep the gates open, take in the refugees willing to work, share what they had.  He had to believe they were stronger together than apart.  He began to hum a really old song.  All the lonely people, how did it go? All the lonely people, where do they all come from?