By the time they made their way back to the Church, what Marcus had come to think of as home, as a genuine refuge from the world at large, it was approaching mid-afternoon. As they walked up the dirt incline, they heard the sounds of men at work, and saw Jacob, Ed, Sam and even Pastor Will unloading supplies from the back of Jacob's truck. Well, men and women at work. Alan presided over all of this, studying them with a dispassionate eye from atop the watchtower, rifle in hand, still done up in his ranger's uniform.

Marcus wondered if the man would ever take it off.

"Hey, what's all this?" Maya asked.

"We decided to keep going after you left," Ed replied. "We moved on to that other house, the one next to the one we took the bed from."

"What'd you find?" Maya asked

"Well two more beds and a stash of medicine. We have enough to finish out the infirmary you had us set up in the basement. If memory serves, then that's all that was on the list of stuff to do," Ed replied.

Maya nodded slowly, thinking it over. "Yeah...except for wall repairs. But I can do that. If I get started soon, I should be able to finish by nightfall."

A loud shot rang out, startling them from their conversation. They glanced over and saw a zombie, now mostly headless, collapsing at the edge of the gravel pit. Marcus, Maya and Ed glanced back up at the watchtower, at Alan. He looked back down at them, saying nothing, rifle in hands, barrel smoking slightly.

"Come on," Maya said.

She led them in through the gates while the others came back for one more load out of the truck. The trio walked across the courtyard and up the weathered stone steps to the main entryway of the church, where they heard Lily engaged in quiet, unhappy conversation with someone. She seemed to be very into it, so they left her alone for the moment.

"Wow, that's quite a haul," Ed said as Marcus and Maya let their quartet of rucksacks drop.

"Yep," Maya replied. "We should have enough guns and ammo to last for quite a while, months at least, if the rate of usage is consistent."

"Holy crap," Ed marveled as they unzipped the rucksacks. The barrels of a few rifles and shotguns also poked out of their backpacks, which they shrugged out of.

"Yeah. Hey, the gun nuts finally got something right for once," Marcus said with a laugh. "Now we get to sort through all this, equip everyone..."

Lily heaved a sound that was half a sigh, half a frustrated growl. She sat back in her seat and ran her hands through her hair.

"What's up?" Maya asked.

"Something unpleasant has come up," Lily replied. She turned to face them. "I've been getting reports of people getting robbed. Like, straight up beaten up and stolen from. A few break-ins, too, in the middle of the night. Either no one has actually seen these guys doing it or they're too afraid to tattle but...it's got to be the Wilkersons."

"Fantastic," Marcus muttered.

"So what do we do about it?" Ed asked. "I mean, we've done pretty well for ourselves and it's not exactly a secret, I imagine."

"We should ask them directly," Marcus said.

They looked over at him. "You sure that's such a good idea?" Lily asked uncomfortably.

"No, but it'll be interesting to hear what they have to say. And it might be a good chance to see exactly how many guys they have hanging out over there."

"That's a good point," Maya murmured. "Like a recon, a scouting run. Determine the enemy's strength and capabilities." She looked at Marcus with a bright gaze in her eyes, but then something darkened it and she frowned. "You should go. And take someone with you. But it shouldn't be me that joins you."

"What? Why not? You'd be perfect."

"No, I'd the perfectly wrong choice. If I see those two creeps again...well, let's just say that I might do something stupid and involves a trigger."

"Ah," Marcus replied, remembering the way Job had looked at her, had propositioned her. In all honesty, he wouldn't blame Maya is she shot his finger off. Or his fool head. "Okay, I'll go and see if I can find someone to join me."

"I'll come," Ed said.

"Really?" Marcus asked.

"Yeah, sure. Why not? It's about time I got out into town anyway, and it's been too long since we've had a moment to ourselves."

"Okay, great. We'll take the jeep."

"Good luck," Maya said as she went back to sorting the guns and ammo.

"And please be careful," Lily said.

"We will," Marcus promised.

They left the church, pausing once to snag the key for the jeep off the key-chain rack Maya had bolted to the wall next to the door. They crossed the courtyard and pushed through the iron gates, stepping into the gravel parking lot. They still only had the three cars: Jacob's blue pickup truck, the red jeep that Marcus had finally learned belong to Will and the red four-door, mud-spattered station wagon he, Maya and Ed had originally driven up in several days ago. Was it only a few days ago? It felt like weeks at least.

Marcus got into the driver's seat, since he knew the way there, and Ed clambered up into the passenger's seat. For the first few minutes, as he backed up, pulled out of the lot and began navigating the city, headed south for the isolated farmstead, neither man spoke. Then, finally, Ed let out a short little laugh.

Marcus sighed. "What?" he asked.

It was a familiar kind of laugh.

"You've got like a big crush on Maya," he said. "And don't try to deny it! I've seen you running all over town with her. You totally have a thing for her, which is kind of funny given the fact that she's like completely different from the girls you normally date."

Marcus sighed and prepared to launch into a debate with Ed, to defend himself, but he quickly realized that the man was right. A quick examination of his past four relationships revealed such. To varying degrees, all of these women were not like Maya. When he was in college, he'd dated a girl who lived off campus with her parents. He had nothing against living with your parents, but it just seemed that this girl would never get her life together. She had no job, no car, not even a driver's license. She'd relied on him for everything.

She was very beautiful though.

Marcus thought that he'd made a big step forward in Growing Up when he'd broken up with her, convinced that she would never grow up and would only hold him back. He still believed this, but then he'd gone on to date a girl that was only marginally better. She was a hot, short-haired tomboy who loved to drive fast, party hard and drink her ass off. He'd had a fun, insane six months with her, and then she'd dumped him because she got sick of being 'tied down'. He couldn't exactly blame her, college was for exploration and all that...

After college, there had been another two girls. One had been boring and predicable, which was who he thought an adult man should be dating, and the other had been kind of a reversion back to his teenage years after the boring relationship had nearly driven him nuts. But that hadn't worked out either, and he'd simply given up on women for a while after that.

And along came Maya.

She was strong, decisive and fiercely independent. And she was sexy. She was sexy without even trying. Not once had he seen her...well, put-together, he supposed, since they'd met. She never wore makeup, she hadn't had a shower once since their time up on Mount Tanner, and her hair was always pulled into a rough, functional ponytail. And yet he couldn't help but think that trying to put makeup on her would be like gilding the lily, so to speak. She was already extremely beautiful, and putting something like a dress or makeup on her would only douse her natural beauty, not amplify it. She looked best when she was outdoors in a tanktop and running shorts.

"Yeah, fine, you got me," Marcus said, finally.

"Well...about time you owned up to something," Ed replied with a smirk.

Marcus sighed. "It doesn't make much difference. I mean, what could I do about it? We're in the middle of a damned warzone. Zombies and nutjobs everywhere...even if she was interested, what kind of relationship could we have?"

"A fun one, maybe...but I get what you mean. I..." He hesitated, and Marcus glanced over. "I've kind of been talking a lot to Lily," he said.

"Lily? Talking like...interested talking? How old is she?" he asked.

"She's nineteen," Ed replied defensively. "Right now, I think it's just that I'm a shoulder to cry on. Not that she really needs one...Lily's a real hardass, too. Not in a bad way. She's a lot tougher than I think a lot of people would give her credit for. But she's just lost her dad and Jacob isn't exactly in the best position to be offering sympathy, given that he lost his boyfriend...man, it's just been a shitty week for everyone."

"Yeah, true that," Marcus replied.

They were on the dirt road heading out of town now, towards the farmland.

"But we talk about a lot of stuff. She seems to kind of seek me out of the crowd, you know? Maybe I'm just imaging things, she's really pretty and nice and smart, so obviously the attraction's there on my end, but..." he shrugged. "I'd be able to get a better read on the situation if you'd been paying any attention lately."

Marcus laughed. "Well, like you said, I've got this thing for Maya."

"Yeah, whatever. So tell me about these guys."

Marcus's mood darkened. "Ugh, the Wilkersons. They're kind of...slimy. Like, they're the kind of people that would kill and bury you if they thought they could get away with it, you know what I mean?" he asked.

"Yeah...and you want to go accuse these men of robbery?" Ed replied.

"Yep. This is why I brought back up, and we're both packing. When I approach, you stay a little back, near the car, and cover me. Take your pistol out, but don't, you know, point it at them or anything. Just have it out, pointed at the ground."

"You got it...man, this is nuts. We're dealing with thugs and we've got guns and there's zombies everywhere. Just a week ago we were fucking vacationing in the woods, getting ready to go back to our boring lives!"

"Know what you mean," Marcus replied.

They came around the final curve and approached the Wilkerson's farm. It looked just as old, ugly and weathered as before. If anything, it looked even more rickety now. Marcus drove in between the two big, wooden poles that served as the entryway to their steep front yard and drove right up the dirt path to their front porch.

He spied two people standing on the porch, one of them was Job, the other was a big man with short black hair that he didn't recognize. He didn't look too friendly. He spied a third man moving around in the house and a fourth off to the left, working on a truck parked up half underneath a makeshift garage.

That was Mickey, the other brother.

Marcus killed the engine and they both stepped out. Ed came around the side to join Marcus. He leaned against the door, pistol in hand, pointed at the ground. Marcus began walking slowly up to the porch, his own pistol still tucked.

"Well, if it isn't Marcus," Job said with a smile. He nodded his head briefly to the man standing beside him. The man stared at Marcus and Ed for a second longer, then turned and walked in the farmhouse.

"Hello, Job," Marcus replied evenly.

"What can I do for you?"

"Well...I've got a bit of an awkward conversation I need to have with you."

"Have away, then."

Marcus hesitated for a moment. He was never very good at confrontation. Then he swallowed his fear, picked up his courage and went on ahead with it. "There's been rumors over the radio that some people have been getting robbed."

"Oh, is that so?" Job asked, smiling that damned smile. "And you're the law in this matter, are you now?"

"Not precisely...more like a concerned citizen."

"Well, your concern is noted. But we haven't had any problems ourselves out here. People often don't come out this far."

Marcus hesitated further. He knew that Job must have taken his meaning...but the man wanted him to come right out and say it. Well, so be it. "I don't suppose you would know anything about these robberies would you, Job?"

Job stared at him for a moment, that smile faltering ever so slightly. Finally, he walked down off the porch, towards him. Marcus could hear Ed shift behind him and hoped his friend wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Take a walk with me, will you? And I'll explain how things are around here," he said, then turned towards the makeshift garage where Mickey was hard at work on the battered old truck. He began walking, and Marcus reluctantly followed.

Not a good idea to look weak in front of men like this.

"There's a funny thing about people, Marcus...they don't much like to challenge their assumptions. Me and my brother, we've done very well for ourselves. Especially in light of...recent events. Folks see that and, well...it is in the character of very few men to honor, without envy, a friend who has prospered." He stopped for a moment, about halfway up the path to the makeshift garage, and looked back purposefully at Marcus.

"Aeschylus said that. And an envious man is a man who will spread rumors and lies."

Marcus found himself starting get frustrated with Job's line of conversation. "Right," he said, crossing his arms. "Because normally, gun-running moonshiners are such positive, upstanding citizens, right?" he asked, a little more forcefully than he meant to.

He expected Job to get angry then, but he just laughed. An honest laugh. "We're businessmen, Marcus. Rob a man...and yeah, he'll give you what he's got in his pockets. But if you sell a man what he needs, well...then? Then he'll keep coming back and give you everything he has."

"Uh-huh...did Aeschylus say that, too?"

Job's smile faded a bit. "Here, let's ask Mickey," he said.

He turned and started walking again. Marcus followed. He didn't particularly want to talk to Mickey. Job might be slick and smarmy, like a used car salesman, but Mickey was violent and angry. Not as prone to a reasonable reaction.

"Mickey!" Job called, stopping a little distance away. "Our friend here, Marcus, is curious if we've been stealing from any of our neighbors...seems there's been rumors to that effect."

Mickey glanced up from beneath the hood of the truck he was fixing. He looked at the two of them, then offered a short bark laughter. "Shit, son. If we was stealing from people, you can bet your fucking ass there wouldn't be anyone left to spread no damned rumors!"

"See?" Job said, grinning and shrugging. "Nothing to it, my friend."

Mickey returned his attention to the truck.

Job's features darkened very slightly. "Now why don't you run along, friend Marcus? If we hear anything, I just promise you'll be the first to know." His voice dripped false and mocking sincerity. He offered a big, shit-eating grin.

"Fine," Marcus said.

He turned and marched back over to the jeep. He and Ed climbed in, backed out of the yard and got back on the road towards Spencer's Mill.

"So, how'd it go?" Ed asked.

"Fine...I guess. Everything they said sounds good, makes a lot of sense even. But I don't know. I don't believe them. And those guys they have in the farmhouse...I saw two."

"There was a third, upstairs, I saw him. He had a rifle."

"Great," Marcus muttered.

"Yeah, I was getting worried...now what?" Ed asked.

"Now..." Marcus was stymied for a moment. He was going to say that they should head back to the church, but that didn't quite feel right. And, as he pulled off the dirt road that led away from the Wilkerson's place and caught sight of another farmstead on the opposite side of the road, up a little ways further, inspiration struck.

He began driving towards it.

"Where are we going?" Ed asked.

"The Miller house. There's a group of survivors there. Lily and Maya have them listed as 'cautiously friendly'. I'm going to try and make it more than cautious. More like optimistic."

"Okay...you want me to hold the gun again?"

"No! This time we're going to be nice, diplomatic. Just...shut up and let me do the talking."

Ed rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

They pulled up slowly and carefully to the house. It was a big, two-story deal with a huge yard, a very large barn/garage and a pair of expensive pickup trucks parked next to the house. He could see people moving around inside.

"Actually, just stay in the car," Marcus said as he killed the engine.

Ed snorted. "You sound like my mom!"

Marcus stuck his tongue out at Ed, then got out of the car. He kept his gun tucked into its holster, kept his hands away from it, and walked slowly up to the house, stopping about twenty feet away from it. After a moment of silence, the front door opened. A matronly blonde woman in a button-down red shirt and jeans, (the first two buttons were undone, revealing a considerable cleavage), walked out onto the porch.

She held a shotgun.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Hello, ma'am," Marcus replied. "My name is Marcus Campbell. I'm from the Church of the Ascension enclave."

"The Church...oh, yes. That young woman Lily operates your radio. I've had many nice conversations with her," the woman replied. "My name is Alice Miller. This is my house. Now, given these dangerous times, I'm a little curious as to why you didn't announce yourself on the radio when you were coming up my driveway."

"Well, Miss Miller, I was hoping to have a conversation that wouldn't be heard over the radio," Marcus replied.

Alice Miller stared at him a moment longer, then her features softened and she slung the shotgun, letting it hang off her shoulder. "Might as well come up onto the porch," she said.

"Thank you, ma'am," Marcus replied.

He walked slowly and carefully up onto the porch, coming to stand arm's length away from Alice. Up close, he could see that she was an older woman, perhaps in her mid to late forties, but she was still very beautiful. And he could just tell by looking into her eyes that she was like Maya: strong, tough, no one to fuck with.

"Now, what is it you'd like to say, Marcus?" she asked.

"I was just down at the Wilkerson's place. I've heard that they've been robbing people, breaking into houses...have you had any problems?"

As soon as he said 'Wilkerson' Alice made a face of disgust. "Ugh, yes. I caught one of their ilk trying to break into my barn just the other night. Damn near got his fool head blown off. And one of ours was out on a run to get some supplies from a field and they tried to run him down! It was pure luck that a horde showed up and confused things enough that he got away. Oh those boys...their father would be rolling over in his grave if he knew what they were up to. So, yes, you can assume we're well-informed on the subject of Job and Mickey Wilkerson." She sighed softly. "Sad to think of Eli, stuck there with them...what?"

She must have noticed the look on his face.

"Eli passed a few days ago, actually," Marcus replied quietly.

Alice shook her head. "Lord, that poor boy..."

"Yeah...well, I came to warn you about the Wilkersons, and also to make an offer. If there's anything you'd like help with, or if you'd like to trade, we're very open to the idea of community and such things."

Alice smiled. "I appreciate the offer. Lily made a similar one. And you're a very respectful young man, Marcus. But I think we're doing quite all right for ourselves here. Thank you for coming out and seeing me personally."

Marcus nodded. He could tell it was time to go.

"You're welcome, ma'am. Good luck with everything."

He turned and made his way back to the jeep.

"So how'd that one go?" Ed asked as they got back on the road and started heading back into Spencer's Mill.

"Okay. A lot more pleasant, at least. Though it amounted to about the same."

"Huh...now what? Home?"

"We've got one more stop to make."

Marcus pulled into the abandoned parking lot of the Tartan Mart. As he stepped out of his jeep for the third time that day, the reaction was immediate. The door opened up and a tall, well-built black man with a shaved head stepped out. He was holding a pistol. He was doing more than that, he was aiming it at Marcus.

"Go away," he said.

"Wait, please...look, I'm not here to cause problems. I just-"

"Yeah, you just want what? To talk? To have some food? To come in for a minute? I've heard it all since this shit went down, man. You can't come in. You can't have any food. You can't have any water or bullets or gasoline or whatever the fuck you want. What you can do is turn right the hell around and walk away."

"I just want to trade, okay? I've got bullets, guns. I want to trade."

The man hesitated. Marcus caught a bit of movement behind him, someone else. He caught a hint of a woman's face, whispering something in the big guy's ear. He kept an eye on Marcus, but now he seemed to be considering.

He lowered the gun.

"What do you want in return?" he asked, finally.

"Food, maybe some water...I guess it depends on what you've got," Marcus replied.

The man hesitated further, clearly unwilling to give an inch...at least not unless he was getting something in return. "Fine," he said after a long moment. "Go get whatever it is you want to trade, get back here. We'll see what we can work out...and come alone. Lose your friend."

"I...fine," he said.

The man remained standing where he was, and did so until Marcus had got into the jeep and was driving away.

"So, I heard some of that. We're going to trade with them?"

"Yeah...I kind of did this on a whim. I hope Maya doesn't get pissed, but, honestly, I think it makes sense. We need friends. The most valuable asset in this valley is now people. The more people we have on our side, the better. And we can spare the ammo. And we need the food and water," Marcus explained as they drove home.

This was basically the same argument he put to Maya when he told her about the people in the Tartan Mart. At first he could tell that she was frustrated, likely that he'd made a decision and acted on it without her, but finally she nodded.

"Okay," she said. "This is...it'll work. I just...I wish you had said something. Not because I think I'm in charge and I make all the decisions around here, but because if we're really going to work together as a community, we need to talk things through. There might be factors that one of us might not see or fully comprehend that someone else could point out."

"Okay, fair enough. I just...kind of acted on instinct," Marcus replied.

"Yeah, I know," she sighed softly, "here, I'll get you a rucksack with some ammo that we're particularly heavy on."

It took her five minutes to assemble the rucksack. She stood up and handed it to him. "There's three nine millimeter pistols in here with twenty magazines. The pistols are unloaded. See if you can get two rucksacks' worth of food. Given what all these bullets are worth, I think that's fair. We want bottles of water, no other liquids. Canned foods are preferable over all else. And maybe like vitamins, too...are you sure I can't talk you into letting me tag along, maybe hide in that half-built house with a rifle or something?" she asked.

She looked genuinely worried.

"No, that'd be a bad idea. These people are really scared. They've obviously had a lot of bad encounters. We need to build some trust, and...well, sometimes that means going out on a limb. So here I am, going out on a limb, hoping it can hold my weight."

Maya smiled at him, which made him feel weird, so he grabbed the rucksack. Suddenly, before he could turn and leave, she leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Come back safe, huh?" she asked.

"Yeah...uh, I'll try," he replied.

Because he either couldn't think of anything else to say or was at risk of saying something stupid, Marcus turned and left. He didn't know what to make of the kiss, so he just shoved it out of his mind as he got into the jeep and drove back down to the Tartan Mart. When he got there, the man from before was standing out in the parking lot with his pistol. A pale woman with a stern face stood in the doorway of the Mart.

She also held a pistol.

"Okay, let's see what you've got," the man said.

Marcus nodded as he reached into the jeep and took out the rucksack. He walked forward slowly until the man told him he was close enough. He put the rucksack on the ground and then backed away from it.

As the man came forward and knelt to examine it, Marcus said, "My name is Marcus Campbell."

The man hesitated, then glanced up. "Logan," he replied curtly, then he went back to searching the bag. After a minute, he seemed satisfied and stood up. He turned and made a quick gesture back towards the Tartan Mart. The pale woman standing in the doorway didn't move, but another woman, who was tanned, tall and athletic, walked out. She pushed a shopping cart out. The squeaking of the wheels was loud in the silence.

"Have you had many problems recently...with regular people, I mean," Marcus asked when she came up to him.

Logan said nothing, but the woman, who seemed more amiable, nodded. "Yes, we have. We had a break-in attempt last night."

"What happened?"

"We shot at the bastard, he ran," Logan replied.

Marcus nodded and sorted through the cart. There was a thirty-pack of Tartan Mart brand bottled purified water, about a dozen cans of vegetables, another dozen cans of fruit, two boxes of plain saltine crackers and another dozen cans of assorted things: beans, chicken, corned beef hash and tuna. Marcus thought this looked like about two rucksacks' worth.

"Okay, this all looks good. Uh...thank you," he said.

"You're welcome," the woman replied.

"If you guys find yourself in a jam or you want to trade some more, give us call on the radio. We're not bad people. We'll help if we can," Marcus said.

"I'll take it under advisement," Logan replied.

Well, it was about the same reaction he'd gotten from the other two, but he expected a worse reaction. He began loading up the food and water into the back of jeep. Once it was done, he got in, threw the vehicle into drive and headed home.

What a day.