Disclaimers: Walking Dead still not mine. The Atlanta Thrashers and Minnesota Wild are not mine (besides, it's all about New York Rangers hockey you guys). Lyrics are from Agnes Obel's Smoke and Mirrors (if you're looking for creepy mood music, I strongly recommend her album Aventine).

Chapter 3

Rushing away

With a bag full of bones

I know the place you left

Still won't leave you alone

Breathe Cecily. Deep breathes. Everyone is depending on you. You can't let them down, you can't fall apart like always…

A knock on the rear window of the pickup startled Cece as she shifted gears, slowing for a particularly rough patch of field. Freaks littered the darkness, some heading for the barn that was now covered in thick, whipping flames, others single-mindedly walking towards the largest and best meal they'd had for weeks. Biting her lip, she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. They hadn't been surrounded by this many freaks since the beginning, back in Atlanta.

"I'm down to my pistol," Andrea, as she had been introduced, called from the bed of the truck. "We have to head toward the house. We'll get Lori and the others and get out of here. We're gonna lose the farm."

Cece looked to T-Dog, who was reloading his gun. "Andrea, you have another mag?"

She tossed one through the window, skirting over Cece's shoulder to land beside the gear stick. Before switching to a higher gear, she handed the magazine to the man next to her. "Speed up, we gotta move" he said softly. Her partner didn't seem particularly outspoken. She appreciated that. As more and more freaks appeared in the field, her breath was catching in her throat, and she honestly wasn't sure if words would come out if she tried to speak.

"It's gonna be okay…" T-Dog paused for a second. "Hell, I don't think I even got your name."

She swallowed thickly, swinging the wheel wide to avoid a group of three freaks. As they drove past, Andrea shot two before ducking back down into the truck bed.

"Cecily. My name is Cecily."

"Well, I'm tellin' you Cecily, that we're gonna be okay. We're in the car, and we'll get out of here just fine."

Hitting the accelerator, she caught site of the RV as they passed the barn. The motor was still running, but it was parked and overrun with freaks. As several chunks of burning wood fell from the roof, landing on the hood, she hoped the driver had made it out. Oh God, what if Logan was in there… Her hands gripped the wheel harder. Jessie was missing, she couldn't lose Logan too…

"Don't look at it," T-Dog said, grabbing her hand. "Just keep driving, Cecily."

"Were you a therapist before this?" she whispered, wondering how the guy next to her remained so calm.

"Social worker," the man replied. "At a high school in downtown Atlanta."

The farmhouse came into view, and Cece felt a sigh of relief escape her when she saw Logan standing beside the old farmer, trying desperately to keep the freaks at bay. The old man seemed possessed, shooting at the freaks- one, two, three, four- bodies piling up in front of him, reloading the shotgun so seamlessly that it seemed he never stopped. On the porch, the dark haired woman who lost her son was shouting at them. Whatever she said, Logan signaled for her to move with his hand, waving it wildly before burying his scythe in the head of a freak that was about to devour the farmer.

"THEY'RE RUNNING!" she heard Andrea shout from the back. Four women sprinted out of the house, holding hands tightly to keep from being separated. Cece spun the wheel hard, veering right at such a high speed, it felt like the truck would flip. Accelerating as hard as she could, she hit a teenage freak, sending it flying over the top of the vehicle. In the rearview mirror she saw it hit the ground, then begin pulling its broken body forward towards fresh meat with its arms. A scream permeated the darkness as an older woman was devoured, still clinging to the hand of the girl named Beth, who had helped Cece pack boxes of food in the kitchen. "Let me out! I'll help them!"

She slowed the truck to a stop, allowing Andrea to jump out. She stumbled briefly, and sprinted toward the women, shooting wildly. Moving in as close as she dared, Cece stopped the car. They'll be here soon. You'll be able to leave, Logan will come, and you'll be able to leave. Everything is going to be okay. Everything will be…

The car door creaked open, as T-Dog went to help Andrea. She grabbed his wrist faster than she thought possible. "Please don't go." She felt guilty- too weak to defend herself, too scared to sit alone in the getaway car- but God, she didn't want to be left alone. The thought of being the last one standing… "I can't… please."

"I'll be right outside the door, alright? I'm just gonna help them into the back, and then we'll be on our way."

She didn't know why he stopped long enough to comfort her- he didn't know her from spit. Logan and Jessie, as much as they looked out for each other, would have given her a dose of tough love and told her to pull it together. They're okay. These people are okay. Cece nodded quickly, and T-Dog ran into the night.

An eternity seemed to pass as she sat there, one hand shaking on the wheel, the other on the gear stick. As the women ran wildly across the field, they were separated. Beth and the brunette ran towards her, T-Dog right behind them, providing cover. Andrea split off, following a short haired woman that had been isolated from the group. T-Dog opened the door, piling the women in. He started running toward Andrea, but the freaks overwhelmed them.

"Fuck," she saw T-Dog mouth as he ran back toward the car.

Wait, just wait. They'll be here, they're coming, they need—

A hand slammed the door next to her. Expecting to see Logan, she nearly screamed when she turned to see dead eyes and a dislocated jaw trying to gnaw its way through the window. A second set of hands hit the window, followed by a third, and a fourth.

They were surrounded, almost completely surrounded.

She wanted to panic, or cry, but the sound of Beth whimpering beside her pulled her together. She shared a glance with the brunette, who hugged the girl tighter against her. "We gotta go, hun. Just get goin'."

"Just a few more seconds," Cece said softly, trying to sound confident. Gunshots rang out behind the car, and she heard a thump in the bed of the pickup, then more gunshots. The window opened again.

"You gotta drive, Cecily," she heard T-Dog say. "They got Andrea and Carol."

"What about Logan?" she asked, shifting the car into gear.

"He ain't leavin' Hershel," the woman said softly. "The Silverado works, Hershel has the keys. He said he'd meet us on the road. But he ain't gonna leave Hershel behind."

"I should go…" Cece started. "I should wait..."

She heard another round of gunshots erupt from behind them. The car was nearly covered, and she realized that T-Dog had no protection in the bed of the truck. He had helped her, now she would help him.

Taking one last look at Logan, she hit the gas, praying for a safe place, and that Logan and Jessie would be waiting there for her.

OOO

Retreating into the woods, the bright light of the blazing barn was the only sign that they remained near the farm. Fewer freaks dotted the landscape here- they were all distracted by the crackles and crashing coming from the barn, the noise drawing them in. The sound of gunshots still rang out, a sign that there was still life in the darkness besides them. He just hoped like hell that Daryl and Hershel had gotten Lori out of the house to safety. That Rick and Carl had made it back in one piece.

"Where are the cars we're looking for?" he heard the woman ask. She'd been relatively quiet since they'd left the field, falling behind him in pace slightly. Shane wondered how long they'd been running- she hadn't had much strength in her when he had her pinned to the ground.

She'd still make good bait.

No, he wouldn't think that way. She saved him. That had to count for something.

Still, he carried on walking, ignoring her question. There were more important things to worry about than giving her point-by-point instructions as to how they were going to make their escape. If they managed to escape. There was still a quarter of a mile between them and the barn, from what he could judge, which meant the house was just slightly closer. If they made it out of these woods and managed to get to the pickup, they might stand a chance. They'd be safe- at least as safe as anyone could be these days.

"Shane, where are the cars?" she asked again, stopping. She sounded nervous.

She should be nervous.

This woman might have saved him, but that sure as hell didn't mean she wasn't working with Randall's crew. He had to know before he let her leave the woods. She might have convinced Rick, but she hadn't convinced him.

Glancing around them quickly, ensuring the woods were clear of walkers, he grabbed her around the waist, making her emit a "Wha-" in surprise. She let out a gasp of pain as he shoved her against an old oak, holding the knife she had given him to her neck. It nicked her slightly, and a trickle of blood poured out- nothing serious, but enough to scare her. He could see the bruises beginning to form, bright red welts where he'd nearly choked her before, and he felt an inkling of guilt that she probably didn't deserve this.

Probably being the operative word.

"Again? Seriously? What the fuck are you doing?" she hissed. "We need to meet up with the others. This whole place is gonna be overrun!"

Shane thought she'd be begging for her life. Begging for her freedom. Saying that she'd give him anything and everything he wanted if he'd let her go. He hadn't expected her to stay focused on their mutual escape, and it threw him for a loop.

Still he wasn't deterred. He needed to know, or it would drive him crazy… crazier. "You wanna live, girl? 'M gonna ask ya two questions. Honest answers, or you're dead. Got it?"

"You've gotta be kidding…" He gave her another shove, and she spat back, "Yeah, I got it."

"How'd ya know my name?" he asked.

The look she gave him only reminded Shane how far he'd gone down the road toward insanity. "Your friend shouted it two or three times in the field. How else would I know your name?"

"You know a guy named Randall?"

That stopped her. A mix of fear and defiance passed over her face. Squeezing her shoulder harder, Shane pushed her into the tree again. Her head hit hard, sending her baseball cap flying off her head. "Do. You. Know. Randall."

"There are a lot of Randall's out there," she said cautiously, her eyes not meeting his. "I know a Randall."

"Tall skinny kid. Black hair. Not the brightest tool in the shed."

She paused, swallowing hard. Debating whether she trusted him enough to know the truth. "Yeah, I know him."

"How?"

"You said two questions, asshole," she growled.

"HOW!" he shouted.

He felt himself flying backwards, not expecting the burst of strength from the woman. She seemed surprised herself, eyes wide as she watched him hit the ground. The woman hefted up her baseball bat, stalking toward him. He waited for the metal to connect with his head- could he really blame her at this point?- but it never came. A splatter of warm blood rained down on him from the walker she took out. It had probably followed the sound of his shouting.

"You wanna know how I know Randall?" Taking several steps back, she pulled down the collar of her shirt, revealing a poorly healed cut. There had been stiches at one point, through they'd been removed. The skin was raised and red, trailing down towards her breasts. He didn't want to ask how far it went.

"This is how I know Randall. Now do you plan on freaking out again, or are you done being a jackass? I've saved your ass twice, despite the fact that you keep trying to kill me. Your shouting is going to draw a hell of a lot more freaks to us, so let's play nice and get to the cars so we can get the fuck out of here. You'll go with your friends, I'll go with mine. We can forget this ever happened. Is that alright with you?" she released her collar, offering him a hand.

He took her hand, pulling himself back up. She faltered slightly at his weight, but held her ground. "The cars are on the side of the house. From what I saw the others drivin', there should still be a Silverado. 'S about another quarter of a mile north. We'll grab whoever's left an' find somewhere to meet."

Leaning down, Shane picked up her baseball cap. Minnesota Wild- he wasn't much of a hockey fan, but he remembered Jackson, one of the rookies at the station, being a big fan of the Atlanta Thrashers before they'd been moved to Canada. He'd convinced him to go to the bar and grab a few beers while watching the Thrasher-Wild match a few years back, a long game with very little action after the first period. If her accent hadn't given her away, the hat did- she wasn't a local girl.

Shaking the memories away, he held out the hat to her. Slowly, she reached for it, taking the cap from his hand as if he might attack unprovoked at any minute. Hell, given everything that happened since they met, it was a distinct possibility.

"There's something wrong with you," she stated.

"Ya think I don' know that?" he mumbled.

She ignored his response. "You're sure you're done?" He nodded. "Alright then. Let's get to the house."

OOO

"Hershel, we gotta move!" Logan shouted over the roar of the fire. Though the barn was several hundred feet away, he could feel the heat overcoming the area, beads of sweat trickling down his neck. The whinny of horses had died away long ago- probably overcome by the smoke that had quickly enveloped the building. The yard was dotted with burning freaks, the fire not stopping them until it burned the brain away.

He'd long since abandoned the hand gun that the redneck had given him, saving a single bullet in case he was overtaken by the monsters. Instead he watched Hershel's back, taking down any walker that dared to move too close to the old man.

"Ain't leavin' this farm, son. You'd understand, if you'd set down roots, had a family… this is my home, I'll die defendin' it." Hershel fired another spray of shells, three more freaks added to the pile forming around them. If they kept going, they'd have a wall of corpses to protect them.

A beam fell off the roof the barn, lighting up a bale of dried hay. The fire spread within seconds, starting to overtake the RV. Grabbing Hershel's shoulder, he turned him toward the vehicle. "At least move away from the RV. If that explodes, there's gonna be shrapnel everywhere."

"You should just leave son. I know what I'm doin'. Your girlfriend is out there, she's gonna need you."

Logan wondered if he meant Cece and chuckled to himself. Still, he was touched that the old man was looking out for them, despite having met less than an hour ago. Despite his insistence that he was going down with the ship, Hershel moved to the opposite side of the house, closer to the Silverado and away from the RV.

"Help! Help me!" A faint shout emerged from near the shed.

"You hear that?" he asked Hershel, watching as another one, two, three freaks fell. The old man nodded, reloading the shotgun.

"I'm okay son. You go help," Hershel shouted, shouldering the gun. Logan hesitated for a moment, checking to make sure the old man would be alright. No man left behind- it was one of Colonel Blake's favorite phrases, one that he'd come to live by. As Hershel took down another freak, he ran for the shed.

"Rick! Help! Please! I'm under here!" the voice called out- a woman. He saw a foot twitch from under a pile of freaks. "Daryl!"

"I'm coming!" Logan shouted, despite knowing it would attract more walkers. They seemed to be avoiding this area anyway, the pile of the dead- the actual dead- repelling them. "Hold on, I'm coming." The corpses were heavy and bloated, rotten limbs ripping off as he pulled them away from the woman. An arm reached up toward him as he moved a particularly deteriorated corpse. "That you?" he asked, not wanting to accidentally pull up a live freak.

"My leg… I can't feel my leg…"

Grabbing the woman's hand, Logan pulled her hard, freeing her from the pile of corpses. She was covered in blood, her blonde hair stained red and matted to her face. He pulled her up, and she nearly collapsed again, her leg unable to hold her weight up. Slinging her arm around his neck, he half-carried her back to Hershel. "Where is everybody?" she shouted at the old man. "Did you see Carol?"

"Don't know, Andrea. Get her to the car, son. You've gotta get her out of here. Take the keys." Hershel pulled the keys from his pocket, tossing them over.

"Hershel, you gotta come with me," Logan begged, shifting to shoulder more of Andrea's weight. He'd already lost Jessie- there had been no sign of her since they'd left her in the field, and since none of the foursome had returned, he could only assume they'd been overtaken. Losing another person, even one he barely knew, wasn't an option. "Please, you can't just stay here."

"I said get to the car!"

Dragging Andrea alongside him, he moved for the Silverado, thankful that the doors were unlocked. He boosted the woman in, fresh blood gushing out of a tear in her pants. Fuck. If she couldn't feel her leg, it was probably broken, the bone tearing through the skin if the blood was any indication. Removing his hoodie, he handed it to the woman. "Use it to wrap your leg, alright? Hold it against the bleeding. Do you guys have a doctor?"

"Hershel's a vet…" she said softly.

Shit. Where are you Jess?

"Do you all have a meeting place in case you get separated?" She shook her head. No.

How the hell have they survived this long?

"Then I'm gonna head for the main road. Just keep pressure on your leg, alright Andrea? We'll get you back into one piece." A little false optimism never hurt anyone.

Closing the door, he headed for the driver's seat, only to see three people heading for the truck. Hershel, a man he didn't recognize, and a young boy. That's gotta be Carl. "Get in! Get in!" the man shouted.

"Hershel, Andrea needs you in the back. There's somethin' wrong with her leg. I think it's broken," Logan informed the older man. He held the door open, allowing Hershel to enter. Turning, he found the stranger holding his hand out for the keys, a gun pointing at his face to indicate that there weren't going to be any arguments. Surrendering the keys, Logan ran to the passenger side, taking another freak out as he swung the door open.

It took two tries, but the car rumbled on. As the man shifted the car into drive, the boy grabbed his hand. "Dad. What about Shane? And that woman?"

"Jess? You saw Jessie? Is she alive?"

The man looked between his son and Logan, face completely devoid of emotion. "Last we saw her, she was alive. We can't wait for them. Your girl's gonna have to look out for herself."

Logan struggled to control his temper. "She saved your life!"

"I ain't riskin' my son to save a stranger, kid. I'm grateful for what she did, but she's on her own for now. We'll regroup, and I'll consider helpin' you look for her." He hit the gas, speeding towards a dirt road.

"You'll consider?" Logan choked out in complete disbelief. He recognized the man's determination to save his son. He was sure if he'd ever had a kid, he'd feel the same way. But compared to the rest of the group, who actually seemed thankful that they'd stopped to warn them, this guy was cold. Ungrateful. It rubbed Logan the wrong way entirely. "Stop the car. Let me out of the car."

"Ain't stoppin' 'til my boy is safe. You hear me?"

"You abandoned her! With a psychopath, from what I've heard!" The redneck's brief words regarding Shane were not comforting. Frankly, Logan was more worried him than the walkers.

The driver gripped the wheel hard, careening onto the driveway with a turn so hard it sent Logan crashing into the door. He opened his mouth, ready to say something.

"We've got a bigger problem," Hershel interrupted, the steady tenor of his voice putting a stop to the argument. "Andrea's been bit."

OOO

"Shit. Goddamn fuckin' shit," Shane shouted, as they stepped back into the open, having finally reached the farm house. He threw the knife in his wildly in frustration, hitting a tree. It stuck soundly in the bark. Jessie was just glad he hadn't thrown it at her.

"What now?" she gasped, struggling to catch her breathe. After her brief second wind that allowed her to shove Shane away, her body was starting to rebel. She'd been on the move at least twelve hours, she knew she couldn't do much more. "What?"

"Car's gone," Shane replied. "They're leavin' without us." Across the field, separated by the burning barn and a sea of freaks, she watched the tail lights of the car disappear down the driveway.

She saw one or two other cars near the house. It would be a risk- they'd have to get through the herd- but it was possible. "What about those…"

"Ain't worked in weeks. Daryl's been tryin' to repair 'em, but they're done in."

Jessie's shoulders slumped, the weight of her bag making her stagger. This was it, wasn't it? She'd survived the outbreak, escaped Macon and his pals, somehow may have managed to get Logan and Cece to safety (and God, she hoped they'd made it to safety), evaded murder at the hands of Shane twice, and now she was going to die.

No. She couldn't think that way. There was too much fight left in her, even if she was exhausted. She'd keep going until she dropped. Even if no one ever knew how she died, they were not going to say she gave up. Besides, she had the horrible feeling that if she showed any weakness, Shane would take her down. Probably justify it as a mercy kill.

She wouldn't show weakness. Keep it separated. Don't think about it. Focus, she commanded herself. Pushing her fears for Logan and Cece and her sadness for her dead friends aside, she pulled the knife out of the tree, handing it back to Shane. Keeping her voice as steady as she could, she started forming a plan. "Alright, the main road isn't an option. Is there anything going east that'll get us to the road? Or where we can stay for the night?"

"There's a housing development 'bout three miles east, but last we were there, it was overrun. Haven't seen many walkers come from that direction, so I'm thinkin' it's still packed. What about north?"

"North is where the horde came from. Our camp too. We were coming from a town … Marlboro I think? We didn't hit the horde until we got back toward camp. If we cut back to the town-"

He looked at her incredulously. "You're gonna make it all the way back to that town? Try that, you're gonna end up walker-bait. You're barely standin' upright as it is."

She snorted, not finishing her thought. If he didn't want to hear about the places she and Logan had cleared, he didn't have to. "I thought your plan was to use me as walker-bait. Wouldn't that make life easier for you?" Turning around, she started to walk away from him, pausing long enough to take out a lone, shambling freak that had been separated from the pack. Wiping the blood spatter off her face she added, "You're concerns are duly noted."

"The hell are you going? Don't you walk away from me," Shane shouted.

"Would you shut your damn mouth?" Jess hissed in return. This guy didn't know when to quit, stomping around the woods, shouting at the top of his lungs every time he didn't get his way. Not for the first time she wondered how he and his group had survived as long as they did. "I'm getting the hell out of here. The way I see it, you have two choices. We can stand around here, hope the barn is enough of a distraction to keep the walkers away, and pray that none of the cars catch fire and completely blow. Or, we can head north and find somewhere to spend the night. Tomorrow we go back to my old camp. The freaks should be long gone by then. We'll grab one of the cars and whatever supplies are left, and we'll find your people and mine. I know which option I prefer, but please, if you have a different preference, let me know."

She didn't even stop to wait for his answer.

OOO

They hadn't spoken since her outburst.

Shane didn't know how much time had passed, but the light of the burning barn had long since disappeared, leaving them to struggle through the forest without any guidance. They'd come across several straggling walkers, and at one point had to double back to avoid a group of ten or so, still trying to catch up with the rest of the herd. He'd worried for a moment that they might catch the scent of dried blood on her neck from when he'd nicked her, but an explosion in the distance- probably the RV being completely consumed by the flames- had them distracted. Other than that, the woods were silent, the animals that had once been there now a feast for walkers.

Ahead of him, the woman stumbled over a tree root, hitting the ground hard. She growled slightly, pushing herself back up and wiping her hands together to remove the pebbles and dirt. Removing her pack as she stood, she shook off the fall.

"You want me to take that?" Shane asked, feeling slightly bad that she'd been lugging around the only supplies they had all night.

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're not going to run off with my stuff, are you?"

He rolled his eyes. "I haven't ditched you yet, have I? Just gimme the bag…. Shit, I don' even know your name."

Seemingly convinced that he wasn't going to dash, she handed him the pack and picked up her baseball bat. "You don't know it 'cause I haven't given it."

"That's a hell of a way to build up trust."

"If you can name one thing you've done to earn my trust, then you can have my name." She kept walking.

"God damn women," he mumbled, pushing himself to keep pace.

Shane expected a response, but it didn't come. Something caught her eye, distracting her. She flitted over to a tree, picking up a baseball cap that was lying beneath it. "I know where we are." She pointed to a piece of surveyor's tape wrapped around the tree. "My group marked this. If we walk about ten minutes east there's a hunting cabin. We cleared it a couple of days ago. Hopefully it wasn't destroyed by the horde."

"Is there anything you haven't thought of?" he muttered, following her as she walked with more confidence.

She shrugged, ducking under a low hanging tree branch. "Wasn't me. Had an ROTC kid in our group. Thank God he was with us, or we wouldn't have gotten out of Atlanta."

Silence again. They walked in step until the cabin appeared. It wasn't much more than a shack, like many of the cabins that dotted the Georgia countryside. Probably built by a redneck decades ago to escape the wife and kids, and the grind of daily life. Shane watched as the woman circled the cabin twice, checking for any issues. Her shoulders sagged as she returned to the front, and his stomach sank, thinking that the cabin had been compromised.

But no, it was relief. She climbed the porch, opening a cabinet that had been built for firewood. Moving the logs inside, she pulled out the key. Before Shane had even walked through the door, she'd lit a candle on a table next to the door and was flipping the mattress on the bed over. "Whatcha doin?" he asked.

Before she could answer, he heard the ripping of tape- someone had opened the bottom of the mattress and covered it with duct tape. "Protein bar?" she asked, tossing the food over to him before he could answer.

He looked at her in confusion. "How'd you—"

"Like I said, our ROTC kid. Left supplies here in the cabin in case someone got stuck on a supply run and couldn't make it back to camp. Got a first aid kit here too, if you need it."

Devouring the bar like it might be stolen from his hands, Shane lifted his shirt to check where Rick had grazed him with the knife. He could see the scratch, but no blood had been drawn. Fuck, he was lucky. He took a seat on the bed, putting the pillow between him and the wall as a cushion. The woman disappeared into the bathroom, emerging a few minutes later with a bandage on her neck where he'd gotten her with the knife.

"I'll take first watch," she stated, tossing him a water bottle and taking a sip from her own.

"You high?" Shane responded. "Like I'm gonna trust you to keep watch. How do I know you ain't gonna stab me in the back."

"Ditto," she replied, settling in on the chair. Somewhere in heaven, he knew his mama was ready to rain down fire and brimstone for taking over the bed and leaving the girl to sleep on a kitchen chair. She seemed comfortable enough, though, noshing on her protein bar like she hadn't just spent the whole day running for her life, feet kicked up on the table. "Guess it'll be you, me, and the freaks tonight, Shane."

It was silent the rest of the night.

I'm the worst you guys. Seriously. I'm so sorry about the delay in this chapter. Growing up is the worst- job hunting, working a freelancing gig, planning a wedding, getting sucked into Agent Carter (seriously, you guys, great series). I can't promise my updates will be super regular until after July is over (wedding + honeymoon- whooo!). I have four weddings between now and September, including my own, so I'm going to be all over the country for the next few months. But this story is not abandoned- updates may be slow, but they're coming.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. We've seen the last of the farm, now we get to move onto the fun stuff. I anticipate one more chapter split between the two groups. After that, we'll be moving into new territory- Shane, Jessie, and the search for the others. We'll see bits and pieces of the other group, but it'll be focused on Shane and Jessie trying to survive the freaks (and each other) and find their friends. So hooray! Thanks again for reading! Feedback is ALWAYS greatly appreciated. Best - Jac