The camp was anything but quiet once they returned. "YOU KILLER!" Jen's punch sent Farley to the ground. Tanner and Alex restrained her before she could attack again. Farley, rubbing away the pain in his jaw, stood up.

"I did what I had to. We'd all be dead if it wasn't for me, so fuck off before I get angry, okay?"

Riley stepped forward, uncharacteristic firmness in his voice. "Farley, you threw him off of a damn roof!"

"To save our lives. That includes yours and your girlfriend's, okay?"

"No," the teenager said. "I think it just includes yours."

"Fuck this, I've had it with all of you. Conner, we're out of here."

"I'm staying." Farley's injured jaw slacked open in surprise.

"You're what?"

Conner looked away. "Farley, you killed him. He was a good guy. He was one of us."

"Conner, we were being overrun! Bradley was injured, he wasn't going to live anyway! There was no way he could have gotten away fast enough even if we'd had an opening."

"I'm sorry Farley, but how can you justify killing someone like that? This isn't the first time, either."

Jen fought her way out of the heavy hands of Tanner and Alex and came to stand next to Conner. "What do you mean 'first time?'" Her glare was almost demonic in its seething hatred as she asked the question.

"During the first week, back in Macon, we were being extracted from-"

Betrayed, Farley stepped backward. The look of dismay on his face said it all, but he spoke anyway. "How many times do I have to say it Conner? Hanson wasn't showing up. Kelley was going to get us killed waiting for him."

"That's not the point, Farley," Conner said, sidestepping the old argument. "The point is that you've left people behind before. Good people. I don't know you anymore."

Farley's eyes changed. They didn't move, they didn't turn a different color, but there was something off about them. Something inside him had shifted and the thousand yard stare he was showing to Conner wasn't anything like the good-natured, friendly, and humorous looks he used to have. This one was a shield, and behind it lay a well concealed, festering contempt.

"You know what? Fine. We'll fucking stay." Farley glanced at Jennifer as she opened her mouth to say something. "Don't say a goddamn word," he menaced.

Wisely, she stayed silent.

Present Day, The Shed

Everything hurt. It felt like a railroad spike was lodged in his head and his hands were cast in a mould of pain. He couldn't stop shaking and it was difficult to breathe normally. The world was spinning around him, throwing him off balance when he tried to stand. He slipped, but managed to catch himself on the workbench before he hit the floor.

Gotta find something, anything. Gotta get out. Can't stay. Coherent thoughts were difficult to form, let alone audible sentences. He was cold, and in the light of the lamp he could see how pale his arms were. The stumps of his fingers had stopped bleeding for the moment, but his uniform was still damp with blood. Using the workbench to support himself, he frantically searched around for a weapon.

Then he felt it. The unmistakable hard steel of a blade. Gingerly, be brushed the remaining fingers of his right hand along its length until the blade ended and met the hilt. Groping, he managed to wrap his fingers around the synthetic handle on the third attempt.

I've got a weapon. The machete. Now I need to leave. He spied the old door, faintly illuminated by the lamp. I wonder if they locked it…

Conner was a shadow as he circled the inside of The Fort's wall. It consisted of a chain link fence that extended around the perimeter of what was once a small farm surrounded by woods. The fence was tall, taller even than Willard, with large sheets of metal fastened to the outside over nearly every inch, creating a solid wall. In places, the sheets had been parted and the fence cut away to provide small firing ports in order to repel attackers. At the far end of the compound was a barn, the main doors locked from the outside. A ladder was propped absently against the disturbingly normal exterior, leading up and into the loft allowing entrance to the second floor of the structure from the outside. Two figures were wandering away from it, one leading the other by the arm. In the middle of The Fort sat an unassuming and even somewhat benign one story house.

After inspecting the perimeter, Conner found the perfect place to slip over the wall. While the outside might have proven impossible to climb, the sheets of metal didn't cover the inside of the compound. Behind the barn, Conner would be impossible to see as he scaled the fence and made his way to freedom. Of course such an act was easier said than done for a person missing three fingers. Steeling himself, he slipped the machete through one of the loops of his belt and gripped the metal links.

Before he could lift himself off the ground, something pushed against the back doors of the barn. The unexpected action startled him and he nearly yelped in surprise but managed to stifle the sound. Drawing his blade, he crept up to the rear entrance where he had heard the noise. These doors were locked as well. Cautiously, he rapped his knuckles on the door.

Immediately the barn doors pushed outward. The lock held but the crack between the doors was now big enough to see through, if only slightly. "Oh my God..."

Through the gap he saw an image that had been seared into his mind for months. The unmistakable cold, milky white eyes of a Walker. It moaned and pushed against the door again but the lock held firm under the pressure. From within the structure more groans revealed themselves to Conner's ears. Dozens, at least, all crying out as one with the prospect of a meal so close to them, but unattainable.

There had to be an entire horde within the structure. He had seen some disgusting things since all of this started but not once had he ever considered something like this being possible. A wave of anger gripped him as he backed away from that charnel house before him. As he scrambled over the wall and out into the wilderness, he knew for certain that he couldn't just turn a blind eye to these men and their atrocities.

He was coming back to give out the justice they deserved, but he wouldn't be alone. And in a world like this, the only justice there was came from the barrel of a gun. He'd make sure that all of those sick bastards got their fair share. Inside, just beneath the surface, he was looking forward to it.