The rest of the day went by peacefully.

The only thing that upset the illusion that they were merely...camping out in an old church, was the occasional sharp crack of a rifle or pistol from whoever was up on the watchtower when a zombie wandered too close to the perimeter. Marcus helped Maya sort through the rest of the ammunition, then went down into the basement with her to make sure the infirmary had been set up appropriately. Once they had moved a few things around, they grabbed some food from the new bounty they had received in the trade and ate outside.

"This is nice," Maya said. "You actually made a great call. You got us food and made us friends. Opened up lines of communication. You know, you've got kind of a knack for this I think. Were you management in your old job?"

"Oh no, not even close," Marcus replied. "Maybe after another five years or so...but, well, that's kind of not even a remote possibility anymore. Given what we're facing."

"Hmm, I don't know. It could just be in the valley and the surrounding area. I mean, the Army is here, quarantining us. So that's gotta mean something. But...eh, who knows? For now, we should simply focus on staying alive. There's just a good a chance as the world ticking along as it always has out there, beyond the valley, as the chances of the other possibility."

Marcus nodded in agreement.

He was eating a can of peaches and a can of tuna with crackers, and washing it down with a bottle of water. Maya was tearing through two cans of green beans like they had personally insulted her. He had to give her credit: even during the zombie apocalypse, he still couldn't stand to eat his greens. Never could, never would.

They finished up their meal and then spent the rest of the night completing the wall repairs and getting the barbed wire into place. Well...honestly, Maya did most of the work, since there was only one pair of good gloves and she was the only one among them who knew what the hell she was doing. Marcus just hung around and offered the occasional hand, but mostly he talked to her. He found himself talking to her about everything: life with Ed, his job, his upbringing, his boyhood summers spent in Trumbull Valley...

Then, just as they were finishing up, it finally began to rain.

The last of the sunshine had disappeared behind the dark, thickening cloud cover and the first light mist of the coming storm began to fall. Marcus and Maya continued eating at the gazebo outside, until they were finished, and then they sat back, content and tired, and enjoyed the rain and the silence for a long while.

Marcus spent much of that time debating whether or not he could actually work up the courage to say something to Maya about this apparent huge crush he'd developed on her ever since meeting her less than a week ago.

Maya saved him the trouble by yawning suddenly and powerfully, then standing up. "Well, I'm going to go to sleep. I imagine we'll have a lot to do tomorrow. You should probably hit the hay as well. We'll both need to be up and ready for another scavenging run."

"Yep, good idea," he replied.

They stood up and made for the tent. Ed occupied the single bed, and apparently they both wanted to sleep outdoors, with the peaceful breeze and the light rain. So, Maya took the top bunk and Marcus took the bottom.

He was asleep in two minutes.

Marcus woke up bright and early the following day.

The rain had ceased at some point during the night, though the cloud cover lingered, leaving the day still and gray. It didn't bother him. He felt fantastic, clear-headed and ready to face the day. Which was good, because the day turned out to be difficult. Maya was already awake. Marcus got up and grabbed a change of clothes from a small stash of personal items he'd put together and stored in one of the dresser drawers of the outdoors rooms. Each drawer was labeled now. One for him, one for Maya, one for Ed, one for Jacob.

Clothing bundled in his arms, he moved into the main house. He saw no one but Pastor Will, who was preparing to go to sleep. He hesitated when he saw the man, who was standing in the kitchen, downing a bottle of water.

"Are you okay?" Marcus asked.

Will looked very pale and his eyes were bloodshot and sunken. He seemed to have lost a little bit of weight. "Yes," Will managed. "I seem to be under the weather, but...not to worry. I've taken my medicine. I just need a good day's rest."

"Well...okay. Feel better," Marcus said.

"Thank you, my son. I will."

Marcus moved through the bedroom and into the bathroom. The first thing he did was to piss. It was the first thing he always did in the mornings. Then he gargled and spat some Listerine, stripped naked and applied some Axe deodorant, (both the roll-on stuff for his pits and the spray stuff, he'd found both items in one of the houses yesterday). It wasn't a shower, but it would do. He still felt gross after not bathing for so long, and wondered about how they were going to fix that. But it was a problem for later.

He dressed and then, just as he was beginning to leave, something caught his eye. Well, two things, actually. The first was an electric razor, the second was himself, in the mirror. He'd been growing his hair out for close to a year now. He ran his hand across his hair...and suddenly, he wanted to cut it all off. He wasn't sure why, but an idea, something like starting a new chapter in his life, symbolically, flickered through his energized skull and he seized upon it immediately. Yes, new world, new Marcus, new look.

Why not?

So he spent the next five minutes buzz cutting his hair. He hadn't cut his hair so short since high school. When he was finished, he wasn't actually bald, but his hair was so short that he might as well have been. He ran his hand across his stubbly skull, liking the new look. He looked...tougher, more competent, more like a man who might survive the zombie apocalypse. Of course, cutting his hair couldn't really make that much difference in his survival...or could it? He'd read all kinds of crazy stories about moral and survival.

Either way, he felt better.

Marcus left the bathroom and headed back out into the kitchen, where he found Maya scrounging for food. She glanced over at him, preparing to say something, then she stopped, stared at him and he saw a small smile creep across her face.

"Wow," she said.

"What?" he replied, unable to keep from smirking himself.

"I...really like the new look," she said. "A lot."

"Oh...well, uh, thank you," he replied. "You inspired me, with, you know, your own haircut," he added awkwardly.

They had breakfast together and outlined how the day would begin.

From then until noon, (noon didn't look much different outside, the sun was only marginally brighter behind the omnipresent gray cloud cover), they worked on clearing out the two houses that were at the end of the dirt road leading up to the church. Although one of them wasn't really a house, only the wooden, skeletal frame of the house. Nonetheless, they managed to find a fair amount of building materials and all sorts of tools from that work site. The other house turned out to be largely empty, though they did manage to find another set of bunk-beds that they broke down, moved and reassembled in the outdoors area.

It was a tight fit, and they could no longer put anything else in there, but now they had the capacity to bed down a grand total of eleven people altogether. They also found a few gallon containers of gasoline in a shed out back, which Maya was happy to find. She said one of her goals was to eventually find a gas generator. They stored the gas in one corner of the perimeter wall, beneath a tarp. Out of sight and also a safe distance from anything flammable. After clearing these two houses out, they broke for lunch.

They were just getting ready to head back out when the call came through.

"Marcus!" Lily called just as they were heading across the courtyard.

He and Maya stopped in their tracks and turned around. Lily was standing in the doorway. "Yeah?" he asked.

"Need you for something...it's going to take some time," Lily said.

Marcus glanced over at Maya. "Go on, I can go get Jacob or Ed to help out. They should be free," she said.

He nodded, turned and crossed back. Glancing over, he spied Jacob and Pastor Will sitting in the gazebo, talking. Then he was walking up the steps, joining Lily in the main hall of the church. She took a seat at her radio workstation.

"So, the people from the Kirkman place called. They officially want us to help them out with something," she said.

"Oh?" Marcus replied. Not quite what he'd been hoping for since yesterday...mainly because the people at the Kirkman residence were already friendly with them, but hey, trust was trust.

"Yeah. Apparently there's...some kind of weird zombie lurking around the area. They say it's scary and dangerous. They want to hunt it down and they want your help."

"My help...like, specifically? As in, they asked for me by name?"

"Yep."

"Huh..."

He was just about to go when, Lily spoke up again. "So...you and Maya, huh?" she asked.

Marcus was considering how to handle that when, instead of a thought popping into his head, a phrase popped out of his mouth. "So, you and Ed, huh?"

Lily said something, closed her mouth, tried to say something else and failed once more. She was blushing fiercely.

"Shut up," she said finally.

Marcus burst out laughing. "Oh yeah, you've got a huge crush on him," he said.

Lily let out an exasperated sigh, then she looked around and leaned forward. "Marcus...you're his best friend in the whole world. Level with me, is there...I mean, could it work? You know, between us, I mean."

"You know, I think it could. Ed's not a bad guy. And he is single. And, well," he glanced around now too, to make sure they were alone. "Confidentially, he does like you."

"Oh..." she said pleasantly, blushing more. "Uh, thanks."

"Yep. Good luck and have fun," Marcus replied, turning and making his way back out into the courtyard. He wondered if he'd done something good or bad. As he headed for the gate, he suddenly heard someone cut loose with a thick, racking, wet cough. He glanced over and saw Pastor Will now sitting alone in the gazebo. Maya must have taken Jacob.

Pastor Will was the one coughing.

And he looked worse.

Marcus wondered if he should do something, but then he realized there was nothing he could do, and he began walking again. Then he noticed something else. Alan, who stood atop the watchtower once more, (did he ever come down from there?), was staring intently at Will. He was holding his rifle. His eyes weren't kind.

Marcus stopped fully and stared up at him, not comfortable with that look. He kept expecting Alan to look down at him, but he didn't. He just turned away and continued his watch. Reluctantly, Marcus left the church.

When he showed up at the Kirkman residence this time, the reception was a lot warmer. Tucker greeted him at the door and let him inside. They stood together in a sort of hallway of dark wood that granted access to the rest of the house. From where they stood, Marcus spied a kitchen, three bedrooms and a bathroom. They'd passed Daniel, on guard duty, on the way in, standing atop a pretty large, sturdy wooden box. Brady was in the kitchen, apparently sorting through several open cabinets. Linda and Danica were missing.

"Where's the girls?" Marcus asked.

"In the back bedroom. Danica...isn't doing so well," Tucker replied quietly. "She's...well, she's pretty stressed about this whole thing. She hasn't left the property once since we set up shop here. At first she was going through withdrawal, you know, from the booze, but now? I think depression has her bad. I'm not too sure what's going to happen. Linda's back there talking to her, making sure she's eating and drinking right and everything."

At that, the back bedroom door, which had been mostly closed, opened up, and Linda stepped out. She was carrying a shotgun. She closed the door quietly behind her and joined them in the main hall. "Okay, I'm ready to go. You two packing?" she asked.

"Yep," Marcus replied, patting his holster. He still had his M9 and a pair of magazines for it.

"I'm good," Tucker said. He had a big, silver six-shooter that looked exceptionally powerful. They made their way out of the house and back onto the street.

"So...what, exactly, is this thing we're hunting?" Marcus asked as they started walking to the right, towards the Tartan Mart.

"It's a zombie," Linda replied. "But not a normal one."

"What did it look like?" Marcus asked. "Was it like, huge and fat?"

"No," Linda said, shaking her head. "It was like...greenish-yellow, and it moved kind of low to the ground, on all fours. I've only ever seen it from a distance, but it looks like it's got a big head and long arms, longer than normal."

"Ugh...creepy," Marcus muttered.

"Yeah. It just seems...dangerous. Like, really dangerous, more so than the others."

Marcus considered this as they approached the Tartan Mart, (he realized that that was, in fact, their destination), then a thought crossed his mind. "Have you guys encountered any other weird types of zombies around?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Tucker replied. "Why?"

"I've encountered a few ones that weren't just normal zombies or weird looking people who had been turned into zombies. One of them was like...huge. I mean like eight or nine feet tall, and fat. Built like a damn soda machine, you know what I mean? And then there was that armless one we encountered at the gunshop, the one that screamed its head off?"

"Yeah...I've been thinking about that," Linda said. "I mentioned it to my brother, and he started talking about this video game he used to play a few years ago. It was called Left For Dead. It was a zombie shooter, and they had lots of regular zombies...but they also had what they called Specials. Zombies that had mutated to have special abilities. I'm beginning to wonder if we might be finding ourselves in a similar situation."

"God, I'd hate to think that there's more than one of these freaks we're hunting running around," Tucker replied.

They came to stand in the lot of the Tartan Mart. After a moment, the door opened and Logan came out. His body language was slightly less tense than it had been during their previous encounter, Marcus noticed.

"I saw it," he said. Apparently he and Linda or Tucker had had a conversation about this whole thing over the radio, Marcus imagined. "Maybe ten minutes ago. It went by the lot, down into the field out back."

"Thanks...any chance of some help?" Linda replied.

Logan shook his head. "I'm afraid not." At least he no longer sounded outright hostile.

"Thanks anyway," Tucker said.

Logan nodded and went back into the Tartan Mart. The trio moved past the vacant lot, around some inert shipping containers stacked next to the structure, (something Marcus found odd and out of place), and found themselves standing at the head of a dirt incline that led into a vast farmer's field. It seemed to encompass miles of open space.

"Well," Tucker said after a moment. "Not many places to hide."

Marcus nodded. They spied movement across the field: random collections of the undead in ones or twos, but nothing that seemed particularly out of the ordinary. There were three or four areas where something might conceivably be hiding behind. There was a small water tower, an abandoned truck, two big stacks of crates...

They began heading for the truck first.

"Everyone ready?" Linda asked.

Both Marcus and Tucker responded affirmatively. They set off down the dirt incline. It was steep, but not so steep that they couldn't get down it without too much trouble. A cold wind blew across the field as they got onto level ground and began making for the truck. Marcus was glad for the previous nights' rain, otherwise there'd be a lot of dust to contend with. He kept his attention focused, listening for anything as they approached the truck. Once they were within range of it, he began to move around one side while Tucker moved around the other. Linda stayed behind, shotgun aimed and ready for anything.

They continued circling the truck until they had a clear view of the other side.

Nothing waited for them.

"All right," Tucker began, "how about we-"

A loud roar cut him off. Behind Tucker, about fifty feet away, where one of the stacks of crates was, he suddenly spied movement. A yellow-green blur shot out from the shadow of the crates and began rushing towards the other survivor. Marcus shouted something, an inarticulate warning, and took aim, but he couldn't get over how fast it was moving. The thing was indeed running on all fours. Only, no...not running, it was racing towards them with all the power and determination of a lion that had spotted easy prey.

All three of them opened fire.

Not a single one of them hit it.

When it was ten feet away, the thing abruptly launched itself through the air. Tucker screamed in pure, primal panic as it landed on top of him. Marcus felt like his heart was going to explode, he had no idea what to do. He couldn't get a clear shot without risking hitting Tucker. Suddenly, Linda raced past him, something in her hand. She ran forward and hit the thing on the back. It let out a roar, turned and took a swipe at her with one long arm, sending her flying back and smashing into the truck. She let out a pained cry.

Marcus finally found himself again and began running forward, determined to do something. Good thing, too, because when the freak zombie hit Linda, it gave Tucker the opportunity to bring his legs up, plant them firmly against its stomach and shove it off of him with all his might. Neither Tucker nor Linda were in any position to actually attack the beast, which had landed on its back a few feet away but was already getting up.

So Marcus raced forward, aimed his pistol and emptied the whole magazine into it. Most of the shots hit its chest, but three of them smashed its head into pieces. The enormous, muscular beast flopped back dead onto the ground in a nasty pool of blood. For a long moment, nobody spoke, only the sound of the cold winds could be heard. Then Tucker groaned, and so did Linda. Marcus spun around. Both were on their backs.

"Shit," he muttered.

He hurried over first to Tucker, checking him over, finding only a few scrapes and scratches, only one that was bleeding very badly. He remembered his medical kit, shrugged out of his pack, opened it up and fished out the kit.

"Here," he said.

"I'll do it," Tucker grunted. "Go check on Linda."

Reluctantly, Marcus stood and crossed over to Linda, leaving Tucker to cleanse and bandage his own wounds. Linda was still lying on her back, gasping for breath. Marcus began to help her up, but she waved him off.

"Just...need...a moment..." she gasped. "Get my...breath back..."

A few moments passed and Marcus' fear that one of her lungs might have collapsed or she might have broken her ribs and it had punctured a lung slowly abated. Her breathing returned to normal and slowly, painfully, she allowed Marcus to help her stand.

"Tucker?" she whispered, stepping a few cautious steps forward.

"Fine," he grunted, then groaned as he splashed some disinfectant across a nasty wound he'd sustained on his elbow. "Just some scrapes and scratches...goddamn that thing was a mean motherfucker," he replied. "You okay?"

"Yeah...I was so worried my ribs might've been broken, but they seem okay now. They just ache like a bitch," Linda replied. "Got the damned wind knocked out of me..."

As Tucker finished up and stood, they all looked at the corpse of the thing they had killed. Slowly, they walked over to it.

"Do you think there'll be more?" Marcus asked after a long moment of silence.

"God I hope not," Linda whispered.

Finally, Tucker turned away. "Come on, we really should get back."

The trio began walking away, out of the field, back towards what remained of civilization.

Marcus helped Linda and Tucker, (who were leaning on each other the whole way back,) get back to their enclave. He sat with them until Brady went to wake Danica from her fitful sleep, so she could come out and check them over. Once they assured him that they would be fine and thanked him for his help, he left and went back to the church. On the way back, he realized that something was bugging him. At first he thought it was just leftover adrenaline from the attack, but as he walked up the dirt incline, he realized it had been bugging him all day, ever since early morning. For a long moment, he couldn't figure out what it was.

Then, as he pushed open the iron gate and surveyed the area, it hit him.

He hadn't seen Sam once today. Marcus had sort of made it an unofficial policy with himself to count noses each morning as he rose, and today he'd been too distracted. He spent the next five minutes searching the church grounds, and came up empty.

"Looking for someone, my son?"

He turned and saw Will sitting at the gazebo, drinking from a bottle of water. He still didn't look any better.

"Uh...yeah. Sam, I can't find her. I haven't seen her all day," he replied.

Pastor Will nodded slowly. "Yes. She left early this morning. I tried to stop her but...well, stopping Sam would be like trying to stop a bulldozer with your hand."

Marcus felt a pang of panic. He supposed she could go off on her own if she wanted but it couldn't be safe, or a good idea. "Do you have any idea where she might be?"

Will nodded and took another deep drink of water. "Yes. I believe she might have gone to her old stomping grounds."

Marcus took a seat across from Will and pulled out his map. He folded it out on the table between them. "Old stomping grounds?"

"Yes..." He studied the map with his bloodshot eyes. "Here," he said, pointing. "It's a self storage unit. They used to donate one of their unused units twice a month as a soup kitchen for the homeless. It was a program set up with the church. We had a soup kitchen twice a month here, as well. I believe it was a tax write off..." He shrugged. "For whatever reason, I believe she will be there."

"All right, thanks. I'm going to go try and find her. She shouldn't be on her own," Marcus said, folding the map back up and pocketing it.

"I could say the same for you, my son."

"Yeah...tell the others where I've gone. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Will nodded and watched him go. Marcus hoped for the best as he headed out of the church once more.

He found the self-storage building without too much trouble. It was a low, rectangular white square near the edge of Spencer's Mill, fenced off from the world. There were six garage-style doors and all but one of them were still closed. Marcus walked slowly through the opening in the fence. It was dark in the storage unit, the thin gray sunlight from above not quite penetrating the shadows of the interior. He could at least tell that there was someone, or something, inside the storage unit, crouching. He stopped a good distance away.

"Who goes there?" he asked.

There was a pause, and he had just started to get worried, when he heard, "it's just me."

It was Sam.

Marcus let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god," he muttered. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Looking for Andy Pimms," she murmured.

"Who's that?"

She sighed and remained crouched. "He was this...old, homeless guy. He used to come into the soup kitchen every time, and I saw him around town a lot. We talked...I dunno, made a connection, maybe. I guess...I guess I was just looking for some remnant of my old life. All of this stuff is nuts and I kind of feel like, you know, I'm adrift at sea. I thought I was going nuts or something and if I could just find one thing..." she sighed again.

He realized, all at once, that she was crouching over a corpse.

"He was a zombie, wasn't he?" Marcus asked softly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. He was. I figured he'd come here, you know, memories of the past life and all that...but I realized that that's not what I was coming to do. I wasn't coming to reconnect with my old life...I was coming to severe it. I killed him. I killed Andy. And, it was like...a release. Like, 'Yeah, I can really start this new life. I can say goodbye to the old one.' You know what I mean? Does that make any sense?"

Now she actually looked over at him.

Marcus nodded slowly. "Yeah, it does. A lot, actually."

Sam stood up and walked back out into the gray sunlight. "Thanks. For coming out here and finding me. Sorry for, you know, running off." She chuckled. "I'm ready to go home."

"All right, come on."

They started walking back.