It was raining as they buried Pastor Will in one corner of the lot the church took up. Marcus and Ed dug the grave while Maya and Sam built the coffin. It was a simple but sturdy thing made of wood. They wrapped Will in a sheet and placed him in the coffin. Danica took up the grim task of mopping up the blood and bits of skull and brain. She'd quietly said that she'd had enough experience with it in her time. Once everything was finished, they all gathered at the grave. They placed the coffin in the hole and buried it.

Everyone stood around the freshly milled ground.

"Now what?" Ed asked quietly, his voice breaking the rain-muted silence that had befallen the group.

"I guess we say some things," Maya replied softly.

"Sam and Jacob and I are the only ones left who really knew him," Lily said. "I guess...I guess I should go first. Pastor Will was a really nice guy. I know that sounds kind of...generic, I guess, but I mean it. He was nice without any motives. He was genuinely kind. People always say 'he'd give you the shirt off his back', and I've heard it so often that it kind of lost its meaning. But Pastor Will really would have done that if he thought it would help. When my dad and I and everyone else showed up here, he didn't even hesitate in the slightest to offer us a place to stay and food. He just let us in. I...will really miss him."

Sam cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I guess I'm the only one who knew him before all the shi...the stuff went down. Lily's right. He was a great man. He put up with a lot of my...uh, bad behavior, I guess. I was a jerk to him often enough and it never made him angry, not even close. I really can't believe he's just gone..."

She didn't seem to have anything more to say, so, one by one, the others threw in what little they could. Jacob, Ed, Maya and Marcus all said something, and the latest additions to the crew, Danica, Karen and Anson, stood by quietly in the rain. Finally, Sam said something about someone needing to man the watchtower, turned and left. The others took it as a sign and began to disperse from the freshly dug grave site.

In the end, Marcus and Maya were left standing by the grave. Maya finally stirred. "I'm worried about the two newbies," she said.

"Oh yeah?" Marcus replied, still staring at the dirt that was becoming mud.

"Yeah. They seem...simple, I guess. I mean, they've survived this long, so there must be something to them, but I'm hard-pressed to find what. I was wondering if maybe one of us should take them out on a run or something. You know, I saw a camp site behind the church, in the woods, maybe fifty or sixty feet out. It'd be an easy run..."

"I'll do it," Marcus replied. "I'll take Anson out."

"Okay. Thanks. Are you...going to be okay? I mean, I know you're not okay, right now, but you aren't going to like freak out or anything, are you?"

"No. I don't think so, at least. It's just...this is all feels so weird. I can't believe Pastor Will is just...dead. I mean, he's dead. Forever. He's gone."

"I know. I've had to put up enough with it myself. I could take Anson out if you needed some time..."

Marcus shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'll...uh, I'll do it. I should keep busy anyway. Not really time to sit around and do nothing during the zombie apocalypse. Thanks, though," he replied, trying to keep his tone light.

Maya nodded, turned to leave, then hesitated, turned back and put a hand on his shoulder. "Let me know...if you need to talk. Really, it's not just a thing I'm saying because I feel like I should say something. I mean it."

Marcus smiled at that. "I know you do. You're tough and strong and grim and kind of abrasive, but you definitely aren't full of shit. Thanks."

She smiled awkwardly at him, then did turn and leave.

Marcus glanced back down at the dirt, at Pastor Will's grave. He sighed and made himself look away from it. Then he went to go find Anson.

It didn't take much to convince Anson to grab a pistol, gear up and head out into the zombie-infested wilderness behind the church. He seemed amiable enough and open to being told what to do. Marcus supposed at least that was a plus. He also insisted on using his own weapon: a big, chrome six shooter that fired forty-fives.

"My own personal sidearm, and my favorite," he said as they left the church and began to make their way around the privacy wall, into the woods.

"Oh yeah?" Marcus replied, trying to encourage the man.

"Yep. Bought it as soon as I was able. Took me about a year to save up for the damned thing, but I had my license and everything. It's probably what helped keep me alive the most, at least at first. I had gotten into the habit of taking it down to the shooting range once a week or so. Kind of an expensive habit, but hey, I finally got to the point where I could afford it."

"What did you do, before all this?" Marcus asked.

"Funeral home director."

"Really?"

"Heh, yeah. I know I don't seem too bright...don't worry, everyone thinks that about me. But it's actually not all that difficult. When I was young, fourteen or thereabouts, I got into this bad car accident. My dad was driving. The other guy was drunk, slammed into us...you know how everyone says, 'the drunks always walk away'? Well, that wasn't the case this time. This guy...man his brains were all over the windshield, man. Real fuckin' nasty. I remember seeing that, lots of blood and shit, and...it didn't bother me. I'm not like a psychopath or anything, don't worry about that. I mean, I felt bad for the guy, at least at first, until I found out he was drunk, but it didn't make me want to, you know, vomit. That kind of stayed with me."

"So you went into funeral work?" Marcus replied.

Anson nodded. "Yeah. Not at first, though. Well...sorta. After high school, I couldn't find a job to save my fucking life. Then I heard through the grapevine that they were looking for someone to keep up the graveyard. You know, mow the lawn, make little fixes to the fence and bury the occasional body. No one wanted to do it because dead bodies creeped them out...so I went and got the job. Did it for two years and then, one day, my boss looked at me and said, 'Anson, corpses never seem to bother you...why aren't aiming for my job?'

"I didn't really have a good answer for him and he said he was looking to retire. I'd already been hanging around the funeral home, (it's the only one in the whole valley), so I had picked up on a lot of stuff. I thought I had to go to college but he said that I didn't have to, all I had to do was prove to him that I could do it. So, for the next year he pretty much trained me on how to do everything, then, for the next year after that, started kind of splitting the responsibilities. By the end of that year, he felt like he could retire and he passed it off to me."

"That sounds pretty cool," Marcus replied.

"Yeah, it was great. That was about four years ago...and now all the dead bodies are coming back to life. Kind of put me out of business." He chuckled.

They reached the camp site that Maya had indicated. Marcus surveyed it. He found the shredded remains of an orange tent, a cooler, two backpacks and a couple of fold-out chairs. It gave him a flashback to Mount Tanner.

"How about you keep watch while I check for stuff?" Marcus suggested.

"Sounds good to me," Anson replied.

Marcus set about pawing through the packs. "So...you and Karen? You together?"

Anson chuckled. "Yeah. Kind of crazy. We met the day everything went to shit and everyone went on the run, zombies everywhere, the cops dying, fires burning. We kind of just bumped into each other and teamed up. We ran to a house that was abandoned and hid upstairs, waiting for everything to die down. And things kinda got, uh...heated, heh. And I know what you're thinking! She's got huge tits, but she's pretty damn skinny...they're fake, that's what you're thinking right? You'd be wrong. They're totally real, they just...kept growing, for some reason."

"Huh," was all Marcus could really think to say.

He finished rifling through the backpacks, not finding much of anything, same for the tent, but there were close to a dozen bottles of water in the cooler. He loaded up his backpack with them and prepared to head back, but his radio crackled to life.

"Hey, this is Hanson, sending out a general SOS. I'm at the graveyard, behind the church, and I'm getting swarmed, I could really use some help..."

Marcus frowned. The graveyard behind the church? He ran forward suddenly, cresting a rise in the landscape, and spied the very graveyard where Doc Hanson was at. In fact, he could actually see the man...and about a dozen other figures coming towards him.

He took off running, bringing his radio out, calling for Anson to follow. "This is Marcus, Doc, I'm on my way with some backup, hold on!"

There was no response. It made sense, given that all of the figures had now converged. Marcus and Anson ran for all they were worth, dodging between trees and the occasional zombie that was stumbling towards them. They hopped a low fence, the very fence Anson had repaired in his youth, and pulled out their melee weapons. Marcus still had his red crowbar and Anson had gotten his hands on a fireplace poker.

The pair hit the crowd and began beating skulls in. Blood and brains flew on the air. Together, Anson, Doc and Marcus cracked a dozen and a half zombie skulls. By the time the last one fell, Marcus let out a heavy breath, his crowbar dripping gore. They all remained tense, prepped for more, because it was all too common for zombies to show up after a battle, drawn by the noise. But they were finally, really alone.

"Thanks," Hanson said. "I appreciate it...Marcus, and..." he frowned, squinted. "Anson? You ran the funeral home, didn't you?"

Anson grinned. "Guilty as charged."

"Huh. So you're part of Marcus' crew now, huh?" Hanson asked.

"Yep."

"We picked up two more...and lost two," Marcus replied.

"Oh my, what happened?"

Marcus sighed and updated Hanson on everything that had happened that day. When he was finished, Hanson shook his head. "Good lord...I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thanks..." Marcus looked around. "What are you doing up here, anyway?"

Doc frowned and scanned the old graveyard with his tired gaze. "Just visiting my wife, Gina's, grave. She passed several years ago."

"Oh...I'm sorry."

"It's okay. I've...made my peace. In a way, now, I'm a little glad. It's a mercy that she didn't see what the town's come to..." He sighed and looked around. "Well, I'd best be off. Thanks again for help, call me if you need me."

"Happy to help, and good luck out there," Marcus replied.

He and Anson began heading back to the church.

The more time Marcus spent with Anson, the more he decided he liked the man. After getting back from rescuing Doc Hanson, he took Anson out on scavenge duty...though that was getting to be a little more difficult. They were having to go further and further away from the church to hunt for supplies all the time. To be fair, they had gathered up a decent amount, but who knew how long they were going to be there? And there were so many black Xs on the map now. How long before they had drained Spencer's Mill dry of resources?

His worries about this, however, were shoved aside as he and Anson came back from their latest run, bearing a load of medical supplies they'd discovered in someone's trunk. As they came into the main hall of the church, they heard Lily trying desperately to talk to someone. "Hello?...Hello? Ben? Can you hear me? Are you still there?"

She heaved a sigh.

"What's up, Lily?" Marcus asked after setting his rucksack of medical supplies down on one of the free tables.

"I was talking with someone...another group of survivors. They've only recently gotten hold of radios I guess. I'm pretty sure they're in one of the dozen or so farmhouses that dot the landscape. We've been talking over the past day or so. This guy, Ben, he was calling out for help. He was at an abandoned barn...but then he went silent. Could you check on him? He sounded really panicked...I can show you where it is on your map."

"Yeah, we got this," Marcus replied, glancing at Anson, who nodded.

Lily showed them where it was on the map and both men grabbed some more ammo, made sure they were topped off on survival gear and headed out to the gravel parking lot. They got into Jacob's truck and tore ass out of town, making for the abandoned barn.

"Does this kind of thing happen a lot?" Anson asked.

"More than you'd think," Marcus replied. "It's tough enough trying to just survive, but we've kind of made it a policy to extend a helping hand to anyone who asks, too."

"For which me and Karen are very grateful," Anson replied.

Marcus laughed. "Yeah. We're happy to have you. We were hoping to get other people to join us. There's a few other enclaves around, none of them as big as ours. We can't be divided like this. Either the zombies or the Army or the damned Wilkersons are going to pick us off, one by one. It'd be a lot harder if we were a united front...there it is."

He fell silent as he spied the abandoned barn, sitting next to an equally abandoned farmhouse at the end of a dirt road off the main street. They saw a truck parked just outside of it. It looked like it had showed up just recently. Marcus felt something cold and frightening settle into the pit of his stomach as he pulled up next to the truck.

"Guns out, but don't do anything dangerous. Follow my lead," he said.

"Got it," Anson replied.

They got out of the truck and walked up to the barn. They could hear voices inside. "What's going on in here?" he asked, spying three men standing in the middle of the open area. Two of them looked like they were menacing the third. He recognized both of them as guys who usually hung around the Wilkerson's place.

"None of your business," one of them snarled. He was holding a shotgun and the other was holding a pistol.

"We were just leaving anyway," the second, who seemed like he was trying to take after Job, said coolly. He looked back at the man, who Marcus assumed was Ben, the man Lily had been trying to raise on the radio. "Think about what we talked about, Benny boy," he said.

"Uh...y-yeah, okay," Ben replied.

Both of the men walked out past Marcus and Anson, got into their truck and drove off. Marcus watched them until they left, then turned his attention to Ben. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah...thank god you showed up when you did. I think you were the only reason they left...who are you?"

"My name is Marcus. This is Anson. I believe you were talking to our radio operator, Lily, before things got...shitty?"

"Oh, yes! Lily! I wasn't sure my call got out. My name is Ben, by the way."

"What did they want?" Marcus asked.

He sighed and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, not quite meeting their eyes. "So...I had to cut a deal with the Wilkersons to, you know, survive. They gave me and my group food and I promised them bullets. But...well, bullets are harder to come by than I thought, apparently. That's why I'm out here...scavenging for bullets. But I haven't found any and I can't give up what little we have left. We need to defend ourselves..."

Marcus sighed, considering the situation. Finally, he turned around. "Come with me," he said, heading towards the truck. Anson followed.

"What? Why?" Ben replied, but he followed, too.

"I'm going to help you settle this," Marcus said.

"Oh...uh, okay."

The three of them got into the truck and drove back through the city to the church. They headed inside and as soon as he could, Marcus tracked down Maya. He found her organizing the gun lockers, which was good. He sent Ben to talk to Lily, since it seemed like it might be nice for them to meet in person, and brought Maya up to speed on the situation.

"So, you want to pay their debt with our bullets?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

"Yes," Marcus replied. "This is a way we can reach out and help people. Maybe we can convince them to join up with us. We need more people, more resources, more strength."

"That's a good point," Maya replied, still frowning. "But what if they just rack up more debt? We can't feed a black hole."

"I agree, and we'll cross that bridge when and if we come to it, but I think this is a good way to test the waters."

Maya sighed. "Okay, Marcus. Take a rucksack of ammo. Try to learn anything you can about their enclave," she said. "And...good luck."

"Thanks," he replied.

He gathered up a rucksack of ammo, then led Anson and Ben back out to the truck. As he started driving out of town once more, towards the Wilkerson's place, he started asking Ben about him and his group of survivors.

"There's just the three of us," he replied, all smiles now that he realized fully what was happening. "Me and Paula and Bill. We all live out on Bill's farm, way out in the fields. It's a nice place and not all that many zombies come by. You'd think a farmer would've had more food but...I guess Bill's situation wasn't all that great when the outbreak hit...thanks for doing this, by the way. You really didn't have to," he said.

"I know. We wanted to. We're trying to build trust and rebuild a community," Marcus replied.

"Well that's more than anyone else I know about that's left is doing...except for those people over in Marshall..."

"Marshall?" Anson replied. "What people in Marshall?"

"I heard this transmission once, at least I thought I did, it was pretty weak. Said they were asking people to come over and live in Marshall."

"Huh," Marcus replied, mulling over it.

Something to be considered for later. For now, he was closing in on the Wilkerson's place. He was really getting tired of seeing this long, winding dirt road. It seemed that he'd been coming up this way too many times just recently. He spied Mickey and Job standing together in the shadow of their run-to-ruin barn, in pretty much the same location and position as the time he'd come to pick up the other guy they were beating on.

Seemed that they were always doing that.

"Hello there," Job said as everyone got out.

"Here," Marcus replied, tossing the rucksack at their feet. "Does that square you and them?" he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Ben.

Job knelt, zipped open the sack and looked inside. He let out a low whistle. "That's a lot of bullets...this wouldn't be from your supply, would it?"

Mickey scoffed. "Don't be stupid, why would it be from their supply?"

"Does it square you and them?" Marcus pressed.

"Yep. Sure does. Don't much care where it comes from," Job replied, zipping it back up, picking it up and passing it off to Mickey, who looked at it like it was some strange, alien thing. He turned his bewildering gaze onto Marcus.

"It is from your own stash?...why would you do that?" he asked.

"Now Ben, if you find yourself in a jam...don't you be afraid to call us. We're always open for business," Job said, grinning his used car salesman's grin.

"Yeah, sounds like a real good idea," Marcus muttered, rolling his eyes. For a second, he saw the false civilized veneer of Job's amicable good cheer crack, and the man cut his eyes angrily in Marcus' direction. They stared at each other for a second, Marcus unwilling to look away, and then Job broke into another smile.

"That goes double for you, pal."

"Sure," Marcus replied. "Let's go."

They drove back down the winding road. Marcus could feel a tension headache beginning to build just behind his eyes. He hated dealing with that asshole. Mickey was a jerk and he seemed pretty blunt, but at least it was pretty obvious where you stood with him. Job was...a snake. He was so obviously full of shit, and he knew it was obvious, and seemed to get off on pretending like they were all civilized and just best buds ready to grab a drink together.

"Thanks again," Ben said.

"You're welcome...maybe we should get together sometime. Maybe Anson and I could come over and get to know you and your friends."

"Oh...I'd have to talk with them about it. Actually...could you drop me off right here? It's a hard drive and an easier walk," Ben replied once they were back on the main road.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay...well, you know how to get hold of us," Marcus said, trying to be encouraging.

"I do. And I will. Thanks again." Ben got out of the truck and began making his way off the road and into the farmland that made up the center of the valley.

"He seemed paranoid," Anson said.

"Yeah...I guess I wouldn't be too keen on inviting anyone over after a situation like that. Come on, let's get home," Marcus replied.

He turned the truck around and began heading back for the church.