"I'll drive," I command, gazing upon Kenny's deflated look as he carelessly hands me the keys to his blue pickup truck. With the way Kenny's feeling right now, he'd be more likely to drive us into the ocean than stay on the road.

Neither Clem nor Ken are particularly chatty right now as I put the keys into the ignition; the engine roaring to life as I spit out the window. This place has been nothing but a tragic disappointment – all of the planes were full, and those that weren't occupied had pilots that weren't nearly as generous as Mark was. To be fair though, Mark was a unique case – not too many people would be willing to take a bunch of strangers with them up in the air, especially after a global emergency like this is turning out to be. I think I'm also included in that group, unfortunately.

Telling Clementine to close her eyes, I floor it out of the airport parking lot and forcibly push my way past people. Many of them yell and scream at me to take them with me, but I don't look at any of their faces. My insides cringe together as at least three people are hit by our truck, hence why I told Clem to close her eyes, but Kenny doesn't even seem fazed. I wonder if he had to do that too…

"Shouldn't we have helped them?" Clementine asks pensively, turning to look out the back window as people try chasing after us.

"We can't trust people out here," I reply solemnly, my face growing stern as I continue driving forward, "not anymore."

"Why not?"

Sighing, I look to Kenny to provide some help, but he's lost in his own train of thoughts.

"Because… things aren't the way they used to be, kiddo," I explain, turning a corner and trying to make my way to a road that'll lead us to the highway. "People do crazy things when they get desperate. It's better to just stick with us three for now, okay? We're a team of… police officers. And you're an honorary member now, okay?"

Normally, I think that Clementine would've been over the moon to hear me say that, but the novelty has worn thin. There's no longer that bubbling excitement from her that I had seen when I came over to her and her parents' house, and it sucks. I'd give anything for her to just have one more day of happiness; a chance to just be a kid again for one fucking day. In one fell swoop, Clem's childlike innocence has been totally erased.

And it's all my fault.

"You got anything to eat in here, Kenny?" I question, turning the radio to AM in order to hear any potential local messages going on. It's mostly static, but something will come up eventually. "Clem hasn't eaten in a while."

Kenny continues to stare out the window; shoulders sagged and fist holding up his chin as he watches the passers-by. I tap him on the shoulder, and reluctantly he turns towards me.

Never have I seen this man so completely and utterly depressed. He doesn't even look like he cares anymore, even though deep down I'm sure he still does.

"There's a box of crackers underneath the seat. Help yourself," Kenny tells Clem absentmindedly before looking out the passenger window again.

Shaking my head and huffing, I begin to explain what the plan is that I've come up with.

"So," I begin, scratching my head before drumming my fingers along the steering wheel, "I was thinking that we'd start trying to head south to Florida. Who knows if it's as bad down there as it is here, plus we can maybe try looking for Kat and Duck. We'll take the highway down past Macon, and then – "

"Stop the truck," Kenny suddenly interrupts quietly, though I can tell that his eyes are brimming with rage.

"Umm… why?"

"Stop the fucking truck now, Lee!" he yells as I reluctantly oblige; having to do so anyways because of this massive traffic jam. What does Kenny see that I don't see?

Without warning, Kenny opens his door and stomps outside while Clem and I watch him in confusion. Where the hell is he going now?

"YOU'RE KILLING US!" he bellows, waving his hands around desperately as I hop out and tell Clem to follow me. I don't plan on leaving her alone in the vehicle right now. "YOU MOTHERFUCKING SONS OF BITCHES! YOU'RE KILLING US, YOU PIECES OF SHIT! YOU'RE KILLING US!"

"Kenny!" I yell, rushing over to him to try and calm him down. "Take it easy, man! What the hell's the problem?!"

Not turning from his gaze, Kenny points straight ahead before letting loose another string of profanities. Still wondering what he's talking about, I squint my eyes and try to make heads or tails of what's happening up ahead. It isn't just us who are out of our vehicles – hundreds of stranded individuals are protesting and demanding that they be let through.

Wait… let through?!

"No…" I breathe out, looking as dozens of military vehicles and quarantine trucks are blocking off the entrance to the highway. They've barricaded the living hell out of the road; blocking off everything and everybody. A young guy thinks he's being smart by trying to drive on the grass to get onto the highway, but two soldiers shoot him down instantly as he dies in the front seat of his car; all bloodied and full of holes. "This can't be happening…"

"Are we gonna be stuck here forever?!" Clem asks nervously as I shake my head in refusal.

"No, we're not giving up," I say to her disbelievingly. "We'll just have to do some planning here, alright? We can, umm… head down to Macon. I know the area well – trust me, if anywhere is safe in this state, then that's it."

"Isn't that where your family was?" she asks innocently, and even Kenny looks at me hesitantly as he's brought out of his rant.

Biting my lip hard, I rub my eyes together and nod in affirmation. "Yeah," I reply, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They're not around anymore, but yeah. I used to live in Macon before I knew this clown over here," I tell her, gesturing with my thumb over to Kenny. He doesn't take the joke nearly as well as she does.

"Anyways," I finish, walking back towards the truck, "before we do that, I think there's one last stop that we need to make first."

…..

"You really wanna do this?" Kenny questions, a little bit more talkative than before.

Looking at the sign for the Georgia State Patrol that I must have seen at least a hundred times by now, I shrug my shoulders. I doubt that anybody's gonna be here, and I figure it'd be worth it to check the place out a little bit.

"We need the supplies," I remind him, parking the car in the small lot and heading inside. The front door's not open, but it doesn't matter much – there's still a big hole in the wall from that grenade. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Someone could toss your ass in jail…" Kenny mutters, confusing the young girl.

"Lee," she asks nervously, "what's he talking about?"

"Kenny's just talking more than he should," I tell her quickly, giving a harsh glare towards him. "Come on inside. Watch your step though, Clem. We need to be extra careful around here."

Stepping over the exposed metal rods sticking out of the concrete blocks, the three of us make our way inside. I haven't been in this place in about two weeks now, and boy does it look like a big pile of shit. Clearly looters already tried their luck with this place, as desks are flipped over and lockers have been emptied and ransacked.

"Any food left in the fridge, Clem?" I ask as I gaze upon where our desks used to be. Dug into the wood with a knife is my name with a skull and crossbones beneath it, but Kenny assures me that it wasn't any of the police officers.

"Nuh uh," she responds, closing the fridge and starting to look through the cupboards.

"Damn," I mutter, even though I'm not too terribly upset. It would've been nice if something was left, but I didn't just drive us over here for food.

It's the weapons that I'm more concerned about.

"Do you still have your armory key?" I ask Kenny, to which he nods and shows it to me under the dim lights. I reckon that the electricity will automatically go off across the city soon enough, and Atlanta will be put under perpetual darkness. As if it wasn't creepy enough with the walkers out here!

Calling out for Clem to follow us, Kenny goes to the back room proceeds to unlock the door; punching in the code for the first lock and using his key for the second. Can't ever be too careful when it comes to firearms.

The room isn't very well-lit in here either, but you can find your way around easily enough. Feeling Clementine grab my hand, I squeeze it and smirk down at the young kid. She and Kenny are the ones keeping my sanity in check – it's a miracle that I haven't ended up as desperate as everyone else in Atlanta.

"Hallelujah! We have water!" a voice calls out, and instantly Kenny motions for the two us to stay low. Kenny and I both pull out a pistol and follow the source of the noise. It's probably more looters, and we can't let them take away our guns. Yes, I know that guns aren't the things that save your life – people are, and don't ever forget that.

But out here, when the world's gone to shit, a gun certainly helps.

"Oh man! This is the life!" the voice comes again. I note that the second one is an older man's judging by the tone, and the first one sounds like a kid's. Hopefully this will go smoothly.

"Don't move, assholes!" Kenny shouts, causing the intruders to yelp in surprise. "The fuck do y'all think you're doing here?! You can't just barge into a place like this!"

"Jesus, could you have at least waited until I put some pants on?" the black man complains, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself. The other kid beside him must be his son. "And I didn't see any sign that says people aren't allowed in a police station! That would kind of kill the purpose of having one, don't you think?"

"SHUT UP!" Kenny bellows as Clementine slowly walks in behind me. If this goes to hell, then I want her out of harm's way. "Now I'm not gonna ask you again! What the fuck are you two doing in my god-damned police station?!"

"They're with me, Kenny!"

The both of us stare wide-eyed (me a bit more so as I start to back up) at Rick, who's just appeared and is drying his hair with a towel. Oh god, this is bad. This is really, really, really bad! If Rick sees me and decides that his duties are still applicable, then I'm –

"Might as well come out of hiding, Lee," Rick advises, ushering me forward with a wave of his hand. He smiles down at Clementine, and she shyly waves back at him. He must've gotten to know her a bit better after talking with her and Shane. "You're not in trouble… well, at least not with me. We can't kill each other if we want to survive this."

"Why are you here, anyways?" Kenny asks, lowering the pistol as he realizes that Rick's with them. "And who are these people?"

"Guys, this is Morgan and Duane," he introduces as neither of them look impressed with us. I don't blame them for that regard. "and… we're taking the guns with us. I've got to get back to my family, and I owe these two a debt of gratitude."

"That's not happening, Rick," I tell him forcefully, not backing down even if he is the sheriff. "We need those weapons the same as you. At least give us a few of them, some rounds and then we'll be out of your way."

"You're that bastard that let Carver escape, aren't you?!" Morgan accuses, and I roll my eyes in annoyance. That's what everyone's first reaction to me is gonna be, at least for the next month or so. "This is your fault in the first place! Why should we let you go into the armory at all? DO you have any idea the damage that jerk has caused?!"

"…I'm sorry if something happened to you," I apologize, trying to calm the situation down a little bit. "And Rick… you've gotta believe me, man! If I didn't bust him out then…"

Looking down to Clementine, I notice that she has her eyes trained to the floor. Whether it's her just thinking about her parents or being disappointed in me, I have no idea.

"…either way, it would've happened anyways. You saw what happened, didn't you? Carver didn't even release the stuff! It was Nate, one of his lackeys!"

"Well, I believe you, Lee," Rick acknowledges, proving to me again how good of a judge of character he really is, "but I know for a fact that most of them don't. So if I were you, over the next little while, I'd keep my head down and avoid doing anything too risky."

"Does heading out to Macon count as risky?" Kenny remarks, folding his arms across his chest.

Raising and eyebrow, Morgan looks towards me before putting his clothes back on – out of Clem's sight, of course. "Why would you folks wanna go over there?" he asks, wiping some of the water droplets out of his eyes. "The way that I heard it, Macon's crawling with the dead."

"We need to head south, and that's our last option right now," I explain, mentioning how the highway is closed off. After some more chatter amongst Kenny and Rick, we all head into the armory to divvy up the weapons a little bit.

"Duane, this isn't a toy, understand?" his father says sternly, handing him the pistol as Duane nods in confirmation. "Rick's gonna show you how to use this thing – you do everything he tells you, and only shoot if he says it's okay. Got it?"

Looking over at the boy, I get the feeling that he's barely over Clementine's age. Rick looks at me before motioning towards her, and instantly I shake my head in disapproval.

"She's eight years old!" I protest, not believing for a second that she should be handling a gun. Not because she's not mature enough, but because… well…. Fuck, I've got nothing.

"Better she learn now than having to worry about it later," he mentions, and so I bend down to Clem's height to see if she's alright with this.

"Clem… sigh, Rick's got a bit of a point," I conclude, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You need to know how to protect yourself."

"Like hiding or running away? Got it," she remarks innocently, making me chuckle despite the circumstances.

"He means with one of these," Rick cuts in, holding out a pistol in his hand.

"Don't be afraid of it, honey – it's just a thing. But know where your finger is all the time."

"Maybe you should be giving the lessons here!" Rick chimes in, smirking as he brings Duane over to the shooting range. "We don't have a lot of time here, alright? Just a basic overview and then we've gotta head out."

"You've got it," I agree as Kenny and I start showing Clem how to properly handle a gun. "Don't lock your elbows, and keep it steady…"

…

One shotgun, three extra pistols and a hunting rifle, along with a bunch of ammunition and some tear gas (which is pretty much useless against the dead) is what we've ended up with. It's nothing too extreme, which is what we want since we don't want to attract too much attention to ourselves.

Night descends upon us, and we've decided that now's a good time to start driving off. We don't want to be caught out in the open like this with a massive hole in the police station, so we're set to say our goodbyes.

"You're sure that you won't come with us?" Rick asks, more than willing to let us tag along.

"Lee and I talked about it, but we feel it's best that we just move on," Kenny answers, shaking Rick's hand and nodding towards Morgan and Duane. "You take care of yourselves."

"Find your family, man," I encourage, shaking his hand firmly. "And… I'm sorry about quitting the force. I just lost it a little bit after… everything that was happening."

"You don't need the badge to be an officer, Lee," Rick nods before bending down to Clementine's height and tapping her hat. "I think that'd look better on you than some dirty, old sheriff's hat, little lady."

Giggling shyly, Clementine smiles and takes my hand like the adorable eight year old girl she still is (well, in some aspects, anyways).

We all wave goodbye as Rick takes off in a police cruiser, while Morgan takes his son in a different car. The only vehicle left as the dust rolls behind is Kenny's pickup truck.

"Macon, I suppose?" Kenny asks shortly after, getting a court nod from me as we start heading back.

I don't make it three feet before a black van comes to a screeching halt right beside me.

Three masked men come out with baseball bats and start viciously assaulting me; the blows stinging my arms as Kenny tries to come to my aid. His pistol is knocked out of his grasp as one of the assailants bat it out of his hand, and Clementine shrieks in fright as they start dragging me into their vehicle.

"You're under arrest!" one of the bastards call out, even though I can tell they're not a part of the law enforcement.

"Under what fucking charges?!"

"Tossing our men into jail…" he remarks lowly; tossing me against the van as I struggle against them.

"KENNY!" I bellow, trying to get one of the masked men to stop his assault of the poor guy as another one smacks Clem straight across the mouth. "JUST GO! TAKE CLEM WITH YOU!"

"FUCK THAT!" he snaps, gasping for air as the blows stop. "We're not… letting them… take you!"

"LEEEEEEEE!" Clementine cries out, wailing as I'm tossed into the van.

"Take care of yourself, sweet pea…" I tell her, hearing her screams as the door closes and the driver floors it down the road.

Feeling the restraints being tied around my arms, I allow them to do it as to not get even more hurt than I already am. Everything's sore, and my brain is trying to process just who would have it out for me this badly.

Taking off their masks, I snarl and rage as Nate, Eddie, Wyatt and Vince all unveil themselves.

"Long time no see, buddy!" Nate grins sinisterly, hitting me roughly with the end of the bat against my eye socket again and again as I hiss in pain. I can feel the blood trickling down my face, and the last thing that I hear before blacking out is for Wyatt to drive to the firing squad.