Lori woke in her and Rick's tent, heart pounding and swearing that she could still smell the acrid smoke rising up from the burning city. She sat up on the cot and rubbed her eyes, trying to shake the last vestiges of the dream from her eyes. She looked at empty spot next to her on the cot and thought about whether she remembered even seeing Rick there at all; running her hand over the empty space and finding it cold she guessed that he had remained in with Carl the whole night.
Stretching and yawning, Lori pulled open the door of the tent and stumbled outside to pull on her boots.
"Morning." Dale smiled over as he walked through the camp on his way to fetch fresh water.
"Good morning." She replied back and walked over to where Carol had already finished the laundry and was hanging over the line strung between two large oak trees. "I can't believe I slept in." Lori muttered as she reached the picnic table and started sorting through the damp clothes.
"You must have needed it." Carol remarked, "Feeling all right?" Lori chose not to reply, simply carried on picking through the laundry. She finally stated; "Took me a while to get off and then I had a dream – we were back on the interstate; you, me, Shane, Sophia…" Her voice trailed off and then hardened back up. "Next time, wake me, all right? Especially on laundry day."
"I had one of those myself last night…only this time the helicopters were dropping the napalm over the interstate…" Lori looked up in concern and Carol shivered in recollection. "Never mind, it was just a bad dream. As for the laundry, I can manage." Carol waved away the offer of help and looked up from the laundry. "I had an idea I wanted to run by you."
"What's that?" Lori shook out a t-shirt of Carl's, and marvelled over how Carol could manage to get the grass and dirt stains out without the aid of a mechanical washer.
"That big kitchen of theirs got me thinking. I wouldn't mind cooking in a real kitchen again. Maybe we all pitch in and cook dinner for Hershel and his family tonight. Kind of looking for things to keep my mind occupied. Merle's offered to go hunting for the meat, said he probably wouldn't be as good at Daryl but would combine it with whatever search grid Rick assigns him to. " Carol dropped a handful of clothes pins into the empty tub and slumped down onto the picnic bench, looking up at Lori.
"After everything they've done for us, seems like the least we could do."
"You mind extending the invitation?" Carol enquired hopefully. "Would feel more right coming from you."
"How so?"
"You're Rick's wife. It sort of makes you our unofficial First Lady."
"Morning guys. Let's get going. We've got a lot of ground to cover." Rick's call as he strode through the camp had them both turning at the sound of his voice. They watched as Rick spread the survey maps over the hood of the Cherokee and everyone apart from Lori and Carol gathered around.
"All right, everyone's getting new search grids today. We know that she made it as far as the farmhouse Daryl found, she might have gone further east than we've been so far."
"I'd like to help." Beth's young boyfriend Jimmy approached the group and made his offer. Daryl paused in the process of pulling a tattered brown plaid shirt on over his skinny vest. "I know the area pretty well and stuff." Rick exchanged glances with Daryl who jerked his head in the direction of the house.
"Hershel okay with this?" Daryl asked bluntly, Jimmy stuttered out a response.
"Yeah, yeah. He said I should ask you…I mean, Rick."
"All right then, thanks." Rick nodded and then looked up as Daryl leant over the map.
"I'm gonna borrow a horse, head up to this ridge right here, take a bird's-eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, I'll spot her."
"Good idea," T-Dog drawled. "Maybe you'll see your chupacabra up there, too."
"Chupawhatsa?"
"Chupacabra." Dale confirmed, placing the sheriff bag of guns on the hood and glancing over at Rick. "What you never heard that? Our first night in camp, Daryl tells us that the whole thing reminds him of a time when he went squirrel hunting and he saw a chupacabra." Jimmy scoffed at the idea, only to have Daryl turn on him.
"What are you braying at, jackass?"
"So you believe in a blood-sucking dog?"
"Do you believe dead people walking around?" Daryl retorted, enough said. Jimmy leant across the hood to select a rifle, Rick stopped him before he could lift it.
"Hey, hey. You ever fire one before?"
"Well if I'm going out I want one." Jimmy stated, and Shane thought he sounded an awful lot like Andrea in that respect.
"Yeah, and people in hell want Slurpees." Daryl remarked, slinging his crossbow over his shoulder and receiving a high five from Merle at the quick comeback. Merle had arrived back in camp just in time to join them for dinner the previous evening, having decided not to take the risk of camping out on his own.
"Why don't you come train tomorrow?" Shane called over as Jimmy turned his back on the group, having decided that he was not going to risk going out without a weapon. "If you're serious, I'm a certified instructor."
"For now he can come with us." Andrea offered, and Shane touched the peak of his ball cap.
"He's yours to babysit then." Andrea waved a hand in Shane's direction accepting the responsibility.
"All right, Andrea, T-Dog, I want you guys…" Rick bent over the maps and everyone gathered closer to see where their teams had been assigned.
Rick and Shane were out in the woods, Shane pinning scraps of red fabric to the trees; marking off their grid as they searched it. Shane was remarkably quiet and Rick was having a tough time trying to engage him in conversation.
"Okay, I know you Shane. The only I'm gonna get you engaged in social conversation is to ask you about the girls you did in high school. I don't want to, but I'm willing to do it, if that's what it takes."
"I was an artist in his prime, a protégé."
"You mean prodigy." Rick corrected, and Shane looked over winking.
"Maybe. Is prodigy what you call a young high school stud bangs 30-year-olds on the regular?"
"What 30-year-old were you banging in high school?" Rick scoffed as he walked through the trees, only half paying attention to Shane's stories; for that's what most of his tales were…stories.
"The PE teacher." Shane admitted, pulling off his cap and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Rick looked back and laughed.
"Mr. Daniel?"
"Girls volleyball coach. Mrs Kelly."
"You know what I just remembered? Why I don't ask you about this stuff."
"Shouldn't be talking about this stuff." Shane remarked seriously. "That life, it's gone and everyone in it. Sheila. Maryanne. Mrs Kelly. It's like we're old folk and the people in our stories are all dead." Shane moved ahead of Rick to take point, wanting the conversation to be over and done with.
"We can't just forget them." Rick stated quietly.
"The hell we can't. It's hard enough accepting what's happened without digging up the past. I'll tell you what it is. It's nostalgia. It's like a drug. Keeps you from seeing things the way they are and that's a danger. You got people depending on you."
"You think I don't know that?" Rick stopped walking and Shane stopped as well, turning around to face his friend.
"I don't know." Shane shrugged his shoulders and took a long look around the wooded area. "What are we doing? You got every able body at your disposal out scouring these woods for a little girl we both know is likely dead."
"You think we should abandon the search?" Rick wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and stared hard at Shane.
"It's not my call is it?" Shane shrugged again and prepared to continue in their grid search only to have Rick place a hand on his arm, preventing him from leaving.
"I'm asking." He said and then repeated it when Shane shook off his hand and headed forward. "I'm asking."
"Survival, Rick. It means making hard decisions. But you've got this knack, man. You spread us thinner and thinner. I'm trying to save lives here and you're out saving cats from trees."
"Is that what you think Sophia is, a cat in a tree?" Rick picked up his pace in an effort to keep up with Shane, who was striding furiously through the trees. Shane came to a halt at Rick's question and turned around preparing to face him off.
"Don't do that, man. Don't twist my words. How many times we get called up to look for a missing child, man? You got 72 hours. Seventy-two hours," He repeated firmly. "And after that you're looking for a body. And that was before. I mean, you honestly think we're just gonna find Sophia alive?"
"Are you that sure we won't?"
"We being completely honest?"
"Oh, I'm counting on you to be."
"It's math, man." Shane sighed heavily, "Love or not, Sophia, she only matters to the degree in which she don't drag the rest of us down." Rick's hiss of indrawn breath and look of revulsion had Shane shaking his head regretfully. "I thought you wanted honest." Shane strode off a few paces and then whirled around, spitting out his words venomously. "If we'd have just moved on, man! We'd be half way to Fort Benning right now and Carl wouldn't have gotten shot. And you said so yourself. But we're out here, we're risking lives. Your own son almost died, man. Otis, he paid that bill. What the hell are we still doing this for?" Rick couldn't stand to hear another angry word spilling from Shane's lips and stepped forward wanting the other man to know the agony and the weight of the guilt that burdened him down.
"I had her in my hand, Shane." Rick cried out. "She looked in my eyes and trusted me!" Rick stepped closer to Shane almost pleading for understanding. "I failed her. If I hadn't, she wouldn't be out here. I think she's still alive and I'm not gonna write her off." Shane pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing as he looked over at Rick. Something fluttering in the soft breeze had them both looking over at a small piece of cloth tacked to a nearby tree.
"It's blue." Shane stated. "It's Andrea and T-Dog."
"Looks like we wandered into their grid." Rick mused and Shane just huffed and stalked off.