The camp was finally coming together. The group of thirteen survivors sat huddled around a campfire set in the middle of a circle, sharing cans of beans and packs of almost expired hotdogs. They had chosen this spot far away from the now overrun city, in the hopes that the dead would not find them. They had Shane to thank for that. They have Shane to thank for a lot, actually. They were letting the fire die down before retiring to Dale's Winnebago for the night, listening to the sounds that came from beyond the treeline.

Dale turned to Shane. "Anything come through on that radio of yours?"

"Nothing but static," answered Shane. "Same as yesterday and the day before that."

It had been a month since any of them had heard from the military or any other authorities. The last they saw of the army was during the panicked and disorganized evacuation of Atlanta once the virus, if that is what it was, started bringing the dead back to life.

"Maybe Glenn could make another run further into the city tomorrow," said Amy. "See if there's anyone left?"

Glenn threw the stick he had been whittling into the fire. "Or maybe you could do it and I can stay here and pick berries."

"Easy, Glenn," Shane said. "I'm sure she meant nothing by that." He found himself running interference between group members on a more frequent basis these days. "You're the runner," he continued. "All Amy meant was that you're damn good at what you do. Right Amy?"

"That's what I meant. Sorry, Glenn."

"Sorry too, I'll go in tomorrow and see who or what I can find", Glenn said.

The group fell silent again. In the distance, beyond the flicker of their campfire, they could hear the low growls of the dead. They all knew the risk of Glenn going back into that city. In the silence, Shanes' thoughts drifted back to that day a month ago when he had to abandon his best friend Rick. It was the hardest decision of his life. To see his partner laying there in a coma, unable to help or be helped, broke his heart. But as he told himself again and again, the choice he made had been the only way for him to save Rick's wife and son. He had to save Lori and Carl. Shane could only hope that Rick would have approved.

The fire began to die down and the shadows started to deepen. Shane, somehow the de facto leader, began handing out roles for the night. "I'll take first watch. Let y'all know if anything fun happens. Jim can spell me off in a couple of hours, then Allen, then Dale. Sophia, Carl, bedtime. Donna, make sure the twins get something resembling sleep tonight, too. Gonna need them to help me tomorrow." Ben and Billy's eyes lit up at the thought of spending time with Shane. "Carol, could you help Andrea and Lori clean up from dinner?"

With that, Shane grabbed his shotgun and climbed on top of the old Winnebago to take his perch in a rickety lawn chair. He sank into the chair like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. To him, it was. As a sheriff's deputy, he felt fully responsible for the other twelve members of his group, even at the expense of his own well-being. He always took first watch. Most times he took the second, and even third as well, snatching a few minutes' sleep throughout the day whenever and wherever possible. Sleep had become difficult, since he was haunted by the guilt of leaving Rick. What if he had gone back? What if he had had risked his own life and the lives of Lori and Carl to save Rick? Maybe Rick could have woken up. Maybe Rick would be here now. And, Shane thought, maybe he would not be alone in leading this ragtag group. Shane thought back harder on the events of the past month. What if he had had been able to stop the shooter that put his best friend in a coma? What if he had chosen Rick over Lori and Carl? Had he let his jealousy get the best of him when slept with Lori, or had he taken advantage of a grieving widow? Was it merely a way to assuage his own guilt and grief? Still, how could he have done that? Rick was, is, his best friend and Lori is his wife, for God's sake. "Like Schrodinger's fucking cat," Shane thought. "Dead and not dead." But surely Rick was dead. How could he not be? But still…

Suddenly, a sound from behind Shane snapped him back to reality. He whirled around, shotgun at the ready, only to find Lori frozen at the top of the Winnebago's ladder. He quickly raised the muzzle of the shotgun to the sky. "Lori, you scared the hell out of me!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd check on you, see if you needed anything."

"Nah, I'm good. Been quiet so far."

Lori stepped closer. "Is everything alright? You don't seem yourself lately, Shane. Like you're somewhere else, and I'm not the only one who's noticed."

"Don't know why," Shane snorted. "In case you haven't noticed, the whole world is going to shit. I suddenly seem to be in charge of twelve people. Most of them strangers. The dead are walking around eating people. And I spend my nights sitting on top of a goddamned RV staring into the trees hoping I don't see anything!"

Lori decided not to dignify his outburst with a response. Turning on her heel, she climbed back down the ladder, leaving Shane again alone in total silence.

Dawn broke hours later. It was a beautiful morning, or it would be if it weren't for the smoke rising from Atlanta and constant smell of death and decay. Shane saw Glenn heading off to the city and called out to him, "be careful, kid. And bring us back something good!" As a response, Glenn simply gave Shane a thumbs-up and off he ran. Shane decided it was time to try and rest a little while. He had stopped keeping track of time, but his body was telling him it was at least thirty-six hours since he last slept. He climbed down from his post on the Winnebago and asked Dale to take his place.

It was only a couple of hours until sunset. Glenn had been gone since early morning, and Shane was trying to grab a few moments of fitful sleep inside the Winnebago, when he was jolted awake by a commotion outside the door. "What the – probably just Glenn…but why all the excitement?" Grabbing his Glock, he checked the magazine and chambered a round. Stepping out of the Winnebago, he saw Glenn. And behind him, he could scarcely believe his eyes. The man was thinner, haggard, but it was him. "It's good to see you, man," said Shane.

It was Rick.