Cameron didn't know why in sitcoms whenever someone woke up with a hangover he or she would always have a splitting headache and sensitive hearing. That was bullshit. When Cameron woke up the next morning he felt like lead, was groggy, and had cottonmouth like no other—basically like complete and utter shit.

Still, he got himself out of bed and plopped down at the breakfast table. Marge was in no better shape. In the meanwhile, Jack and the Harrison's were fresh as a daisy.

"Morning," he greeted groggily.

"Yeah," she said back, completely out of it as well.

The thing that had happened the previous night was a one and done deal. Cameron understood that, and he had no regrets.

And so the next few days were as normal as can be—or at least as normal as things get in that zombie-infested world. Cameron did a bit more perimeter patrol, hung out around the house, volunteered to help take care of the town's kids for a while, and helped with the town's remodeling. He also made sure to keep regular contact with his parents, so that they could be kept up to date with each other (minus Cameron's recent intimate moment).

Major Kyle's actions at the party were also a topic of conversation. The fact that he helped make alcohol "legal" for eighteen-year-olds was very popular, and there was also talk of changing more laws. Four or five people also talked about making marijuana legal—that made Cameron's roll his eyes in exasperation. It was too soon to make those kinds of controversial moves.

But what was of real interest to Cameron was another move that the National Guard was planning. During the first supply run Alpha truck had recovered a few survivors, and that more than likely meant there were more out there. After losing contact with Jules he knew how important it was to go out there and rescue people.

So, on top of going out on supply runs, he also volunteered to go out there and look for survivors. And to his slight surprise so did Marge.

Eventually the plan was put forth. The main team would consist of six people in a school bus that would be the main source of transport. Four other smaller cars with two people in each would explore the area and call in if they found anything.

Cameron was put into one of those car teams…along with Marge, who was given a crash course in shotgun use. They were put back into the Honda, which had been installed with a CB radio, and this time it was Marge behind the wheel. A map of the area was given to them to tell where to cover.

With that the search teams left the confines of Yuba.

"Well this is a surprise," Cameron commented, as they left the perimeter behind.

"What d'ya mean?" Marge asked.

"You have a kid. How come you're sticking your neck out like this?"

"Jack's fine."

"But you may not be," he reprimanded.

Marge bit her thumbnail. "Yeah…I know…but I can't help but imagine. What if Jack and me were some of those people stuck out there? Trapped for almost a month, surrounded by those things, low on food. I'd want someone—anyone—to come and help."

"Yeah, I get it," Cameron sighed, wishing he could've helped Jules.

The maps not only told them where to look for potential survivors, but also what areas they should avoid all together. Densely populated areas and frequently used roads were all circled in red. Facing a horde or two of zombies wasn't considered much of a big deal since all they had to do was out run it. But run into a cluster fuck of them, and consider yourself a goner. Gas wasn't an issue either, since each vehicle was topped off and none of them were going that far away.

Together they drove to their designated areas, and drove through neighborhoods as slowly as they dared. They did their best to look through every window, looking for any possible survivors. But moving too slow meant that they could get overran by the surrounding zombies.

If one did become a problem, all Cameron had to do was open the sunroof, aim his rifle out of it, and blow its brains out. Unfortunately all that did was alert more to their presence, so they had to speed through the neighborhoods faster.

And while they were up to that, every once in a while the radio crackled. It was always one of the other teams calling in that they found survivors, and then they'd give their location so that the bus could get back them up.

But for Cameron and Marge it was just a few hours of driving around, and putting an X over every location that didn't have any living people. Overall a boring day not counting the rabid, cannibalistic monsters that were after their flesh.

"This is Yuba," the radio crackled. "Good work out there people. Call it a day and head back. Over."

"Scout 1. We copy. Over," said another voice.

"Scout 5. Over 'n' out."

"Scout 4. Headin' home. Over."

"Scout 2. Understood. Over."

Cameron was about to respond to the call, when Marge blocked him.

"What're you doing?" he asked.

"Let's say we're double checking a place."

"Why?"

"What? We can have a quick fuck."

"Scout 3 to Yuba," Cameron immediately called in. "We think we spotted something. We'll be back soon. Over"

"Roger that. Out."

Marge found them a secluded spot that was zombie free. There was always the good chance that twenty or forty of the things would come out of nowhere, but at the moment Cameron's mind was on a single track.

But despite that, as they climbed into the back seat, Cameron had to ask, "I thought this was a one time deal."

"When did I say that?" she asked quizzically, unbuttoning her top. "You were a pretty good lay."

After a surprising and very efficient twenty minutes the two of them were done. They made out for a few minutes before getting dressed and climbing back to the front.

Marge started the car back up again, and they headed back to town. They cut through a neighborhood that they had already crossed off, but Cameron was still keeping an eye out.

And all of a sudden, he yelled, "Stop!" Through the second story window Cameron spotted two people leaning out the window screaming for help. The door to the house was busted in, so that could only mean there were zombies inside. Other doors to other houses were also wide open but those had amounted to nothing, so Cameron didn't make anything of it.

"Keep an eye out and call this in!" Cameron told Marge. Flipping the safety off his rifle, Cameron stormed out the car and made for the house.

How did we miss them? Cameron wondered, outraged with the situation.

He did a quick left to right sweep at the front door. Carefully, he stepped in keeping his rifle up, ready to shoot a zombie at a moment's notice. He slowly made his way to the stairs, and he looked up to see a fuck load of zombies trying to get through the door at the top of the landing.

"Over here, you fucks!" Cameron shouted, firing a few rounds up at them. One fell down dead, and the rest turned their attention to Cameron and stampeded down the stairs.

Cameron retreated, firing at them every now and then. As those things got closer and closer, Cameron stepped farther and farther back, until he reached the front door and made a break for the Honda.