It was another three days before anything of any real significance happened.

Marcus was beginning to notice that. Long stretches of time would go by where life was trundling along as it should, (or at least as it should in an apocalyptic setting with the undead everywhere), and then, suddenly, something would crop up unexpectedly. Over the course of those three days, a few things did occur.

The two siblings, Richard and Evelyn, settled in. It seemed that they had already had their dose of tragedy in their lives, so it didn't take them too long to snap out of the shock of losing the rest of their enclave and adjusting to a new one. It helped that everyone was welcoming and they were, in fact, in quite a safe environment. They began setting up outposts in a few of the buildings around them, for an additional blanket of safety, by boarding over the windows, stashing some supplies there and even toying around with the idea of manning them.

Instead of going over onto the other side of the river, which Marcus felt was looking for trouble, he and some of the others, instead, began checking out the collection of houses and other structures both on the interior of farmland that Karen had been looking over and along the exterior of the road that circled most of the length of the valley. There were about two dozen structures ripe for the picking and that ate up a lot of time.

The main thing, though, that Marcus couldn't get out of his head, even as he was lying awake with Maya next to him in the dark, was leaving the valley. It seemed like the most logical thing to do. But he couldn't bring himself bring it up to the others. They all kept talking about how great this was, about how well everything was going. And it wasn't like he even necessarily had a lot of facts or logic on his side...

Just a bad feeling.

A feeling that they couldn't stay here.

But was it any safer out there?

When the interesting thing happened, it started in the form of a certain sheriff's cop cruiser cruising down the middle lane of Marshall, straight for them, occasionally slamming into any zombies that wandered into its path. It was the dawn of the fourth day and Marcus had been preparing to head out into the field with Ed. The two of them were standing at the base of the watchtower, just inside the chainlink fence.

Ed pointed it out.

"Great, what does he want?" Marcus muttered, hand falling to the butt of his pistol. He'd made it pretty clear that they weren't wanted last time, so this could either go okay or it could very bad very fast. He checked the immediate area for other cop cars or other people, and called up to Maya, who was on watchtower duty, to check for the same. She called back down to him that the good sheriff seemed to be alone.

Marcus and Ed walked outside of the gate, waiting for the man.

He kept his speed very slow and came to a halt a comfortable distance away. Killing the engine, he slowly got out of the car.

"Hey there, fellas," he said. "If I'd had my head with me this morning, I would've bought a white t-shirt or something to wave," he added.

Marcus couldn't help but chuckle. There was just something about Carl that made you want to like him. He felt himself relax. "Okay, Carl, what do you want?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Obviously we didn't part on the best of terms. Now...you weren't actually wrong when you said what you said, I don't think. It's just that...well, what we've got going on at the courthouse is, I think, the best-case scenario...given the circumstances. Now, I'm willing to agree that Judge Lawton can be a bit stubborn at times and she has some strange ideas. We've had a lot of disagreements. But she is smart, and capable...and I don't think we should just throw away any chance at community and communication, you know?" Carl asked.

"That's fair...what are you actually asking for?" Marcus replied.

"I've been working on the judge for a little while now, trying to get her to be more reasonable. I've made some progress, but I think it would help if she knew that you were helping me. See, here's the thing: my boys have spotted a pair of infestations over on our side of the river and I was hoping you could help me deal with them. Thing is, we're seeing more and more zombies around and I kind of need my men where they're at to maintain protection. It would really help take the heat off if you guys could lend a hand..."

Marcus frowned, considered it, glanced at Ed. He gave a short nod. Marcus glanced up at Maya, who was still in the watchtower, listening in on this. After a moment of staring at him, she finally gave a sharp nod. She thought it was a good idea.

"Okay," he said, returning his attention to Carl. "Me and Ed here will help out."

Carl let out a big sigh of relief. "Thank you! This is going to be so damned helpful. I've brought you guys some bullets, saw you were using nine millimeters last time. I've also got a shotgun in the back that I'd be willing to loan out."

"I appreciate that," Marcus replied.

"Who has to sit in the back?" Ed asked as they headed for the car.

"I don't wanna, once was enough for me," Marcus replied.

"We'll both do it," Ed said after a moment.

Marcus laughed and clapped him on the back. "And that's why you're my best friend, Ed. Always willing to share the suffering."

"What friends are for," Ed replied.

They climbed into the back and Carl began driving. "So you sat in the back of one of these before?"

Marcus sighed. "Yeah. It was so stupid. Back during my high school days, hanging out with some friends...they wanted to smoke weed in the local park. Talked me into it. I only took one hit but, of course, that's when a cop just shows right the fuck up..."

Carl laughed. "I've been baked a few times in my heydays," he admitted, "never really gave people any trouble for weed in particular. Saw no reason to. But...gotta admit, doing it in a park is kinda stupid..."

Marcus laughed. "Yeah, can't disagree with you there."

They drove on.

They crossed the river and rolled up on the first infestation.

It turned out to be in an abandoned industrial supply warehouse just a block over from the courthouse. They had to drive down a back alleyway that cut right through that city block to get to the main entrance.

"Ready?" Carl asked.

Marcus had found the shotgun. He'd holstered his pistol in favor of it. He and Ed both nodded. Carl killed the engine, pocketed the keys and got out. The two men followed him. From the outside, the warehouse didn't look like much. It could hardly be called a warehouse even, at least according to Marcus' idea of what a warehouse should be. If anything, it was just a big garage. It even had a garage door and a side door that was open and revealed a lot of dark movement inside. Marcus decided it was time to get to work.

He walked up to the door, flicked on the flashlight mounted on the end of the shotgun, shined it in and studied the zombies. There were close to fifteen of them packed in there, milling about. They all took notice of him at once and let out a chorus of shrieks and moans. The first thing he did was to sight the bulbous gray skull of what looked to be the only screamer of the group and squeeze the trigger. The screamer's head exploded in a dark plume of blood and brains and gore. That seemed incense the others into further agitation.

While walking slowly backwards, Marcus worked the shotgun, pumping it, and fired again, blowing the head clean off of another zombie and managing to tear away a good chunk of skull from another. As he kept backing up and popping off shells, leading the rest of them out, Carl and Ed started adding their own gunfire to the mix, either helping him take down the zombies as they came out or killing off any stragglers that wandered up because they heard the noise. By the time the shotgun ran dry, the last zombie fell.

"Holy shit," Ed said, he let out a little laugh.

"Now that's how it's done!" Carl said triumphantly. "You boys are something else. True pros," he added.

"We didn't get this far by accident," Marcus replied, moving back over to the cop car and rooting around in it until he found some more shotgun shells stashed in the front seat. He began feeding the shells into the gun one by one.

"What's next?" Ed asked, reloading with some of nine millimeter ammo Carl had passed over to them on the way over.

"There's a house further up the way that one of my boys saw was a hot spot of undead activity. I wanted to clear it up, too," Carl replied.

"Let's roll," Ed said.

They both got in the back and Carl started driving. They continued along the dirt-road alleyway, passing between a house and a used car lot, then crossing over a real street and continuing along another dirt-paved alleyway. They passed a Big Daddy's garage, then pulled out onto another road, turned right and parked near a house. Marcus studied it as he got out, shotgun in hand. It was painted a mild yellow and they'd come out on the wrong side. There were no entrances here, just a trio of windows.

"We gonna go in?" Marcus asked.

Carl stood by the driver's side door. He'd rolled down the window. "No, watch this," he replied.

He leaned in and honked the horn three times in a row. Almost immediately, two of the three windows broke out and a small horde of zombies started climbing out. Over the next five minutes, Marcus, Ed and Carl picked them off, one by one. When the last one came out, they went inside and made sure there were none left behind.

"Well, I think that went pretty well," Carl said as he drove them back across the bridge, into their own territory.

"Yeah...so, I've got a question," Marcus said.

"Shoot."

"What kind of reaction would we receive if we were to start searching and scavenging buildings on your side of the river for supplies?"

"Hmm...well, I don't know. Most of the guys will listen to me, so they'll stay away from you if I tell them to, on the other hand, it might upset the delicate balance of power if I was seen cutting you favors by the judge..." he sighed. "It's all kind of a moot point, anyway. We've pretty much cleared out our structures for supplies. It's all holed up in the courthouse. I guess I'd say, if you think you can do it unseen, go for it, but it might not be worth the risk."

"Yeah, fair point," Marcus murmured in reply.

"Here's your stop. Thanks again for the help. I really appreciate it."

"Glad to be of service," Marcus replied.

He and Ed gathered up the spare ammo they'd been promised and Marcus returned the shotgun. They watched Carl drive off, then made their way into the compound. As they stepped into the main room and began sorting the ammo into the supply area, Lily called Marcus over. He left the job to Ed and went to join her.

"What's up?" he asked.

"While you were out, we got a call from the Grange. They like our idea of a watchtower and they've been putting together plans and materials for it. Now, all that's left is the actual construction, which they think they should be able to get up in about an hour or so with all four of them working on it continuously. There's one problem: it'll make a lot of noise. They're asking for protection from the undead while they do it."

"All right. I'll get Maya and we'll head over there and do it," Marcus replied.

Lily nodded. "Good..." she hesitated. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"What? Yeah, why?"

"I dunno, you just look...stressed."

He shrugged uneasily. "I'm okay. Living in this world is kind of stressful."

"Yeah, I guess so..." She didn't sound convinced.

Marcus made sure to grab some more bullets, more than he normally would, given that this could take up to an hour or more.

Then he headed out to get Maya.

They drove out of Marshall and along the road until they came to the Grange, where they saw all four of the members there setting up. They had a large collection of forty-gallon barrels and planks of wood, as well as a shipping pallet that Marcus realized they were going to use as a platform, which made a lot of sense.

"We appreciate the help," Jack said after Marcus had parked and he and Maya made their way over to the arrangement.

"Always happy to help," Maya replied.

It took almost the full hour to get the job done, and that was mainly because Jack really did know what he was doing and did a pretty decent job instructing the others. Marcus and Maya had to fend off two larger attacks by passing hordes that got drawn in by the noise and a handful of stragglers that wandered in from all over.

When it was done, they tested out the watchtower and found it to be more than adequate.

"This is excellent," Quentin said, standing at the top of the watchtower with the others. "I can't believe we built this."

"You'd be surprised what you can do when you just put your mind to it," Jack replied.

"And when you've got someone smarter than you guiding you," Becca said with a snort.

They came back down and rejoined Marcus and Maya. They talked for a little while longer and, all through it, Marcus could tell that Quentin was...nervous. Only not quite nervous, more anxious. And he kept glancing at Marcus. When the conversation had run its course, Marcus and Maya began to leave, but Quentin lingered.

"I'll be there in a moment," Marcus said, glancing at Maya.

She looked at him, then at Quentin, then nodded and got in the car. Marcus turned to the man. "I get the feeling you want to ask me for something."

He sighed. "Yeah," he said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "Jack said you've been talking with the sheriff lately..."

"Yeah, sort of...why?"

"Well, here's the thing. I, uh, well, me and Becca, we got kinda...close. I mean, like, real close, you know? And, I mean, I didn't know her before this whole thing started. And the sheriff came by earlier and he called her Alex. And Jack mentioned that he'd heard somewhere that she might have been, I don't know...in some kind of trouble, before all this. I guess, what I'm asking is, could you do me a favor and ask the sheriff about it?"

Marcus considered it for a moment. "All right, I guess I could do that," he said. "I'll try to get it done and be back by tonight."

"Oh, man. Thank you so much," he said, sounding immensely relieved.

Marcus nodded and got back into the car.

He drove off, back towards Marshall.

It took a while, but after dropping off Maya and explaining the situation, but he finally hunted down the sheriff. He was crouching behind his cop car in front of the police station, a huge silver revolver in his hands.

Marcus pulled up in the street, got out and approached him.

"Get down," Carl advised him and he did, crouching beside him.

"What's going on?" Marcus whispered.

"Remember those problems I mentioned to you, earlier? Well, I'm dealing with one of them right now. This bastard motherfucker feral has been hunting my men. Killed three of 'em. Vicious son of a bitch. I tracked him into this building," he said. "I'm going to kill him."

"I'll help," Marcus said.

"Thanks. Could use the backup."

It turned out to be easier than Marcus thought it was going to be, though no less terrifying. As the pair came around the side of the cop car, a loud roar cut through the area and a feral burst through the front glass window of the police station. Both men let out startled shouts and opened fire. The thing dodged left, then right with an inhuman speed, then made right for Carl. He aimed and squeezed the trigger, firing one more time.

The feral's head exploded.

He yelled, throwing himself to the side to avoid its body, which was still in mid-leap and coming right for him. It hit the ground and rolled several times, coming to a bloody stop. Marcus hurried over and helped him up.

"Whew, thanks," he said, shakily reloading his six shooter. "Probably would've had me there...now, I imagine you came looking for me for a reason?" he asked. He forcibly slammed the cylinder on his revolver shut and shoved it into his holster.

"Yeah...I was sent by one of the guys over at the Grange. He said he's getting kind of...involved, with Becca. Said you knew her by a different name, maybe you might know her past?"

Carl sighed heavily. "Yeah, I do. Her name is Alex. Her birth name, anyway. She always used to be getting into trouble back in the day. Got her on possession of weed twice, not me, but one of my guys. Selling it once. Underage drinking. Fighting at school. Breaking and entering once...hell, she was a mess. She kind of dropped off the radar over the past year. I thought maybe she was getting her act together..."

Marcus nodded. "Uh-huh," he murmured, mulling over it. "Well, thanks. I guess I should get back and tell him."

"Marcus, wait," Carl said, straightening up. "Look, it's probably none of my business but...well, have you considered that maybe it's none of his business, either? If Alex...if Becca wanted to tell this guy anything, she'd either have told him already or will in the future, you know? It's her right to privacy. We all do stupid shit, you know? Especially when we're teenagers. God knows I did enough dumb crap back then...think it over, huh? Consider what I said. Becca is a good person, and I think she's taking this opportunity to be an even better person."

Marcus thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "I guess you've got a good point there. Thanks, Carl."

"Welcome. And good luck out there."

Marcus got into his car and started heading back towards the Grange. He considered it as he drove, dodging zombies, occasionally hitting them if they were positioned right. How would he feel if someone told him, suddenly, that Maya had done questionable things in her past? Would it matter? He supposed it depended on what it was, but if it was something like this, like, maybe that she had been a hooker before joining the Army or something, then...no. It wouldn't matter, not to him. That was her decision and he trusted her to tell him anything that might be directly relevant to him or to their current relationship.

When he pulled up into the parking lot of the Grange, Quentin was already waiting for him. He hurried over to the driver's side door. Marcus rolled down the window. "Well," Quentin asked, "what did he say?"

"He said nothing worth mentioning," Marcus replied. "You should be happy with Becca here and now. If she has anything to tell you...then she'll tell you."

Quentin seemed to consider that. Then he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay...thanks for the help," he replied.

"Yep. Good luck," Marcus replied.

He rolled up the window, pulled out and started driving home.