Later that day, we're taking some time to rest. I'm sitting by Carl and holding Judith. Carl's watching the sky. Dad just got back from not finding water. Things aren't good, but they're peaceful enough. Then a pack of wild dogs decides to come out of the forest and challenge us. The one at the head of the pack is mine.

Everyone else goes still, or reaches for weapons, while I hand Judith to Carl. "Buck?" I say, standing, my voice too high. He looks exactly like I remember. A beautiful German Shepherd, a hundred pounds, but so sweet, even if he doesn't look like it now. He's dirty and he's scared, so he's growling at us. At me. I don't blame him, it's been a long time. But he has a pack now. He found a pack, and I'm glad. I'm glad he wasn't alone.

I step forward. "Buck!"

Buck crouches and snarls at me. Dad says my name. I hold my hand out to my dog, and his head explodes.

I scream a little and almost fall. All the dogs really do fall, one after the other, quickly. Dad's here and his arm is around me before the last one hits the ground. I remember now. I remember where I am, what's happening, and that my dog was dead even before the turn.

"What the hell was that?" Dad shouts. But he's not talking to me. Sasha's standing a little ways from us, holding a rifle. It has a silencer. That's why I thought Buck's head – the dog's head exploded.

"Excuse me?" she says.

"That was too close, Sasha." Rick strides up. Sasha looks at him like he's speaking a new language, but Rick ignores her. "You alright?" he asks me, though his eyes slip up to Dad, because he'd know best, of course . . .

I step back. I throw Dad's arm off me. "I'm fine." When Dad reaches for me again, I hit his arm away, and I mean hit it. "I said I'm fine!"

Silence. Awful, smothering silence.

My cheeks burn. I look at the dead dogs. Four of them. A couple Dobermans. A herding dog of some kind. And a German Shepherd. They all wear collars. I look at Dad's boots. Beth's knife. I look at Rick. Rick looks sad. Maybe even scared. I look at Carl, Maggie, Glenn, Leah, Carol, Owen. I don't like a single look I get back, even though none are mean. Now I look at the dogs again.

The German Shepherd doesn't even look like Buck. Buck was beautiful and strong. This one is mangy and skinny.

I huff out a breath. "Damn it all to hell."

I return to Carl, who's half-standing, and lean on him and kind of drag him down to the road with me. I don't have a room or a cell or a catwalk where I can hide, so I make do by hiding my face in his arm.

We eat the dogs.