Rick and his team returned late in the afternoon, hot and exhausted but optimistic. Hershel estimated that they'd probably covered about 12 miles worth of land and hadn't seen any walkers or signs of any ever being near the property. Daryl was pleased that he'd spotted some deer tracks during their mission and was anxious to get out and hunt. There was also a stream not far from the house that might be good for fishing, if they could find or make some gear. Since for the time being the extended area around the house seemed deserted, Rick deemed it safe for everyone to sit down together for a quick late lunch. It would be a good opportunity to brainstorm and make some plans, he thought, and the table was a jumble of voices with everyone eager to discuss what they'd discovered about their new refuge.

"Saw what looked like goose scat near the stream," Daryl commented between mouthfuls of T-Dog's improvised tuna salad. "No way of tellin' how old it was, since it dries up pretty fast, but maybe if we're lucky there are still some of them birds hangin' around…we can roast a goose on that grill…"

"I always do enjoy chatting about animal excrement at the dinner table," Allison remarked, scrunching up her nose. "But I have to admit roast goose sounds heavenly, doesn't it?"

"What's 'excrement'?" Carl asked.

"Poop," his father replied succinctly.

"Found a small woodshed not far from the house," Hershel mentioned. "Was about half-full, but we should cut some more to last us as the weather gets colder. I counted at least four fireplaces in this house."

"It would be nice to set up something so that we could boil water in one of the fireplaces," Lori suggested.

"For when the baby comes?" Beth asked with a giggle.

"No, for things like taking a bath or for the laundry sometimes," Lori replied when the laughter died down. "It would be more convenient that heating water up outside and then hauling it indoors."

"That's something they used to show on old TV shows and in movies," T-Dog commented, "boiling water when a woman gives birth. They don't do that in hospitals, do they Doc? What was the deal with that, anyway?"

"No, they don't do that in hospitals because there are more modern ways of sterilizing instruments now. But back before indoor plumbing featured hot and cold running water, midwives often had several pots of hot water on hand to help wash mama up after the birth, among other things," Allison told him.

"Did anyone check out the garage yet?" Glenn asked.

"Yeah, we had a look around," Rick replied. "There's a Mercedes SUV and a Jaguar parked inside."

"Sweet!" Glenn said, his eyes lighting up.

"We can't afford to waste fuel driving those two gas guzzlers on errands," Rick told him. "We can siphon whatever gasoline is in them into our own vehicles, though."

"We were losing light by the time we go to the garage," Daryl commented. "We'll have to go back tomorrow and have another look-see. Looked like there were some tools hanging on a pegboard, and there might be a flashlight or something useful in the glove boxes."

"Or a road map," Rick added thoughtfully.

"Speaking of maps," Beth piped up, "I found a telephone book in one of the end tables in that room over there." She gestured vaguely. "Maybe y'all can find some gun shops listed in the Yellow Pages."

"Good idea," Daryl told her and she beamed with pride. It was a rare feat indeed, she knew, to receive a compliment from the redneck.

"So," Carol asked hesitantly, "what do the prospects look like? Do you think we'll be able to stay put for a while? I mean, will we be safe here?"

All eyes turned expectantly to Rick. He looked thoughtful as he replied. "Obviously I can't predict the future, but so far we've done a fair sweep of the land a few miles in each direction and we didn't encounter any walkers. None of us have spotted any during watch, either. But who knows how long our luck will hold." He paused and sighed. "If only this place had a fence around it…"

"Could we build one?" Carl asked.

"With what?" Lori asked. "We don't have any chain link or barbed wire…"

Daryl snorted at her urban naiveté. "Folks have been buildin' fences long before they had such modern supplies. Maybe you've heard about Abraham Lincoln splittin' logs for a livin'…?"

"As long as we didn't get a huge herd like at the farm, a split-rail fence would keep out walkers in small numbers, don't you think?" Maggie asked, considering the idea.

"I worry, though," Rick said, "That the noise we'd make constructing it might attract walkers. Chopping wood for fire right close to the house is one thing, but pounding pilings into the ground and hammering and nailing further out might be risky…"

"Too bad we can't dig a moat around the place, like they used to do around castles in medieval times," T-Dog said.

"It seems like we should be able to do something," Carol insisted. "After all, the Egyptians built those huge pyramids with very primitive tools."

"That's true," Allison confirmed, rolling her eyes. "All we need is 10,000 more people and then we can build our own Wall of China around this house."

"Sarcasm won't solve anything," Rick chastised her. "Right now we're brainstorming, and as far as I'm concerned any and all ideas should be put on the table for discussion."

"Sorry," Allison muttered, and she couldn't help but notice Carol's smug smile.

"I think that maybe some weapons training might be a good preparedness measure for the women," Hershel commented. "Maggie's good with guns," he added quickly, noticing his eldest daughter boiling up for an explosion, "but Beth has never handled one, and Allison mentioned some time ago that she's not familiar with handguns." Allison didn't mind being called out; she knew the old man was being diplomatic by not mentioning Lori's ignorance of rifles and Carol's total inexperience with any and all firearms.

"Until we check those Yellow Pages and get ourselves some more ammunition, we can't afford to waste any bullets," Daryl observed.

"I realize that," Hershel said, "and I think that Rick is right about keeping the noise level down, so even if we had unlimited ammo we still shouldn't risk live target practice. What I'm talking about is breaking down our existing guns and learning how to maintain them, how to determine whether there's a bullet chambered, what the safety is, all the basics. Then they can dry fire to get the feel and learn how to aim."

"Solid suggestion," Rick agreed. "I also think that we should all practice some defensive skills that don't involve guns."

"You mean like hand-to-hand combat?" Glenn asked.

"Exactly. I started to – " he paused and swallowed hard, thinking of that day at the Merit County Public Works building when he had emphasized to Shane the importance of using knives rather than guns to kill walkers – "consider this some time ago…that we should all start learning how to use knives or swords or whatever sharp objects we could get our hands on to kill walkers. It's quiet and it saves ammunition for more extreme situations."

"Like in the military," T-Dog expanded on Rick's point. "A group learning to work as one unit with knives and bayonets. You form like a circle and attack from all sides at once."

"I didn't know you were in the service," Carol said.

"I wasn't," T admitted, "but I saw Full Metal Jacket about a dozen times."

Everyone laughed and then Rick said, "T's right, y'know. That's the kind of stuff we need to be practicing, just in case. We can't afford to be complacent or let our guard down. Even if it turns out we can stay at this house for the next year we need to keep in fighting form."

The mention of a possible lengthy stay in this luxurious house with soft beds and flush toilets made everyone eagerly nod and agree with their leader.

"There are knives in the kitchen and pokers by the various fireplaces. There might be sharp tools out in the garage. We'll start a daily practice of learning how to use those as weapons, how to communicate with one another, how to quickly move into a formation when the situation calls for it."

"What can we use as a target? Too bad we don't have some life-sized stuffed dummies or something," Maggie commented.

"Maybe we can eventually make something like that," Rick stated, "but in the meantime we can draw an outline on a tree or a big piece of wood or something. We'll make do."

Their meal finished, Rick, Daryl and Glenn went to study the Yellow Pages that Beth had found while Lori, Carol and Beth cleared the table. Maggie went upstairs to nap so that she'd be rested for her watch duty later, and Allison went outside and patrolled the perimeter of the house with Carl.

Dusk began to fall and the two were quiet for a while while their eyes adjusted to the impending darkness. Allison had her Remington Versa Max rifle and Carl was carrying the handgun that he'd pilfered from Daryl's saddlebag back at the farm. She and Daryl had both noticed it in the boy's hands after they'd evacuated, but neither mentioned it to him, especially after they'd heard the story of how he'd had to shoot Shane after he'd turned and was about to bite Rick. The kid was handy with a pistol, it turned out.

"You like it here?" she struck up a conversation after their second circle around the house.

"Yeah, the house is nice…" he seemed bothered.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"I dunno…" he paused, but Allison noticed that he still kept his eyes scanning the horizon. Poor kid, he'd been forced to grow up awfully quick. "I just wish my mom and dad were OK."

"Your dad is probably just worried about your mom and the baby," Allison tried to soothe his worries.

"He doesn't seem worried to me, he seems mad," Carl told her. "They hardly talk to each other, but when they do dad seems so angry at her."

"Married people get that way sometimes," she told him. "Especially in a situation like this, when your dad has to worry about all of us as well as your mom."

"But Mr. Daryl takes care of all of us, too, and he's not like that with you. He's always nice to you, and he doesn't holler at you…"

"Well, we're not married," Allison said, searching for an explanation that Carl would accept. "And we haven't known each other as long as your mom and dad have. After a lot of togetherness, sometimes little things irritate couples and they fight. It doesn't mean they're really mad at each other."

"They used to fight a lot before dad got shot, too" Carl seemed to be thinking out loud. "Mom always seemed to be mad at dad. And then, after Shane died, she seemed mad at him all over again, but now he's mad back at her." His eyes looked somber under the brim of his daddy's hat.

How in the world do you explain to a 10-year-old that his father probably resents the fact that his mother is most likely carrying another man's child? From what Lori had said weeks earlier, Carl didn't even know where babies came from. But he wasn't naïve, he had eyes and ears and he knew that something was amiss.

"Both your folks have a lot on their minds," she finally told him. "Remember how hard your dad looked for Sophia? He probably still feels bad about what happened, it takes a lot of time to accept the death of a child. And when a woman is expecting a baby, there are chemicals in their bodies that make them more emotional than usual."

"What do you mean, 'emotional'?"

"It means that sometimes they cry for no particular reason, or they'll yell at someone they love for something silly like the room is too hot or there's no Cool Whip in the freezer. Things that aren't anyone's fault. And eventually the woman's husband just stops talking to her and avoids her while she's like that, just so he doesn't upset her…and also because he's tired of getting blamed for every little thing." She smiled and gave him a gentle punch in the shoulder. "All you can do right now is try not to worry, and just help out your folks however you can when they need it. Hopefully things will get better soon, once we're able to stay put in one place for a while."

Carl didn't seem completely convinced, but he still nodded and said simply, "OK."