Michael walked with a steady pace towards the place where Utopia has brought the little boy. It was late now, almost four in the morning...a good number of people were still up and sitting around the camp fires and talking, others leaned against the trailers and tents that Michael past and waited for the first sights of dawn to show in the sky.

Everything about this night seemed to perfect, there was a cool breeze every once in a while that cooled off the warm buzzing summer flies that landed on people's arms, and the bloated fat harvest moon still stuck out in the middle of the velvet night sky like a sore thumb.

Terry was dead, Michael still couldn't really take that thought that he was laying on a wooden table underneath a blood stained sheet in the medical station.

What were the chances that Terry would travel almost eight hundred miles towards the very spot where his camp was?

Michael didn't really believe in destiny or faith...but how did Terry know?

Jersey did leave a note behind on one of the cars before they started off almost five years ago...but the chances of that note ever being found, and did Terry know that Michael was somehow still alive.

Everything seemed so far stretched, Being told by New Jersey that some people don't get infected when their bit...counting himself.

That the bullet that Michael fired at his head didn't kill him, that everything was missed by just hours or even moments.

That Jersey and Utopia found Michael and left, that somehow Terry traveled this way, knowing or not knowing that Michael...the man he thought killed himself and was left behind almost five years ago was alive and well, walking around that very camp.

That the gang killed Terry even before he could reach the camp and stumble upon Michael...maybe he had news about the others, maybe he had news about his Ana.

Sure the island plan wasn't that good...no one really knew if those things were alive on them or not...or that they would have enough supplies to last them for however long they planned on staying there.

Did something happen to Ana, did she make it?

These thoughts started to twist around in Michael's stomach, the only reason he had kept on going was the fact he thought she was still alive.

But then again why didn't he go searching for her back when he was around that area?

Easy, Jersey told him that there had been a storm...and the chances of them ever making it were slim to none, and that most of the islands were filled with zombies.

He wanted to check, more then anything in the world...but just the slim thought that Ana didn't make it, that he might find her rotting body laying on some destroyed beach...would drive him insane.

Most of this had been his fault, and now Terry was dead.

He then reached the tent which sat closer towards Utopia's trailer...it seemed dark and still in the thin moonlight of the night.

He took a deep breath before going in and tried to get himself under control.

He then closed his eyes for a moment and prayed to God that Ana was okay.

He then took a step forward and entered the tent.