Heart

She had no warfare experience - no recon, strategy, or operations know-how; she had no supply chain chops - no inventory, marketing, or distribution tasks should be assigned to her; she didn't like to drive so, from messenger sedans to the big rigs, that was a 'no'. It was pretty clear from the first groan and shuffle of the zombie apocalypse that she would not be running headquarters or leading rescue efforts for the survivor underground. What she DID know how to do was nest and stay level. She knew how to make a home a sanctuary, protect it with simple and effective reinforcements, create a warm and welcoming atmosphere, make comfort food from scratch, grow flowers and herbs; she knew how to create beds out of cushions and exactly how many blankets it took to feel fortified. She knew how to rise with the sun and harness it with various panels (she didn't have to worry when the grid burped). She knew how to thrive in quiet and share that space with who needed it. And so Heart House (as it was almost instantly renamed) naturally came to be, where she would take in the shell-shocked and sleepless and let them rest until such time as they had recovered their strength and a kernel of hope. She was not a doctor or a nurse, but she knew that listening was sometimes medicine, and a good night's sleep was sanity.