I ain't gonna just let her wander off on her own, so I follow close behind. I tense up when I see the walkers approach, but hold back. Beth can handle this, she has to. I gotta know that she can. She tosses a handful of rocks at a tree to get the bastards to change course. It actually works. Dumb luck. I move in closer, purposely makin' sound so she knows I'm there. She ain't too happy with me steppin' in. Tough shit.

I motion for her to follow me. She seems relieved. Soon's we get back to our camp she flips shit; thought I was takin' us off to get her drunk. Then she threatens to go at it alone. She all but spits at me how she can take care of herself an' storms off. But if she's leavin', I'm goin' with her. She's my responsibility now. So I pack up an' catch up to her. Fuckin' women.

When we see that uppity country club, Pine Vista, Beth gets all excited. "Golfers like to booze it up, right?" Fuck if I'd know. I ain't ever been a part of no upper class society. Sons of bitches think goin' hungry is havin' to wait over twenty minutes for a table in a restaurant. Musta been nice.

There's a body on the front step that I search for cash an' jewelry, only to come up short. Beth looks confused. That cash can start a fire an' the jewelry may come in handy. I ain't gotta explain myself to no one. The old rules don't apply no more. 'Sides, ain't like they'll be missin' it. A group of walkers is headin' towards us, so we run 'round to the side an' make our way through the door. Inside we find it's no better'n what I expected. The yuppies're all dead. I start lootin' pockets, bags, cupboards an' boxes. We go down a level an' a walker comes at Beth while we're searchin' through the shit. She struggles, but after crackin' a bottle of wine over the bastards head an' puttin' the blade through the skull, she's still standin'. She looks at me with pure venom in her eyes. "Thanks for the help." Bitchy sarcasm. "You said you can take care of yourself, an' you did."

We find what I guess is supposed to be a store, gift shop or somethin'. Beth finds herself a new shirt an' sweater an' goes back somewhere to change. I'm lookin' 'round for anything of use. That's when I notice the woman's body with a sign tied 'round her neck: Rich Bitch. I admit, it's uneasy seein' what some people can do to the human corpses. Beth seemed to take it harder'n me. She wanted us to take her down. The girl was broken over the corpse of a person she ain't ever even met before. I don't know what to make of that, so I just toss a sheet over the body instead.

We're makin' our way outta the shop an' down the hall when more find us an' chase us into the locker room. The only good thing 'bout a walker attack at a golf course's all the clubs layin' 'round. I knock one fuckers head clean open, keep it from gettin' at her. When I look up, her new white sweater's covered in the blood of the walker I took out. Part of me feels shitty 'bout that. The other part thinks that's what she gets for actin' like a spoiled, bratty ass kid.

Finally we find that stupid fuckin' bar. Full of top shelf classy shit, all broken to hell or empty. Only thing the girl can find is peach schnapps. Course that's the only shit they'd leave behind. Over on the other side of the room's a dart board, 'cross from that's pictures of the club members. I take the darts an' start aimin' at their heads. Fuckin' rich pricks. Musta been nice bein' in some high society club. Havin' more money 'an you know what to do with, so you waste it on stupid shit you don't even need. Buyin' memberships an' peach schnapps. Fuck them. They got what they deserved.

By the time I release the last dart, I'm aware that Beth's cryin'. She's really messed up over somthin'. Maybe the dead lady, maybe the sweater. More an' likely she's worked up over what we've gone through. Tellin' her that the only drink available weren't any good probably didn't help her. Couldn't find any clean glasses, either, so she's ready to drink straight from the bottle. I just look at her sittin' at a busted ass bar, clothes bloodied up, tears flowin'. Girl's 'bout to take a big step in any adult's life; up 'til recently, at least.

That's when it hits me. This is a big fuckin' deal to her. Your first drink should be better'n fuckin' schnapps. I actually feel pissed off that Beth's gotta drink uppity shit 'cause it's all that's left. She ain't one of them. She may have had more love 'an me growin' up, but she wasn't born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Just a farm girl who never had a chance to really live. Fuck this shit.

I grab the bottle from her an' smash it on the ground. "Ain't gonna have your first drink be no damn peach schnapps." I shove open the door that leads us outside, an' look back at her.

"C'mon."