Clementine lay on the ground in shock, taking deep panicked breaths. It wasn't until the figure standing before her fell out of sight did Clem realize it was she who had fired. She didn't even remember clicking the gun's safety off; it just happened without her even thinking about it. Even now it felt unreal as Clementine tried to focus on whatever attacked her, lying motionless just outside the door.

Standing up, Clem clutched her gun tightly in her shaking hands. Slowly she stepped outside to better examine her attacker. The person lying before her appeared to be a young woman, probably not much older than Sarah. She had short black hair, some sort of gas mask strapped over her mouth and nose, and a bullet hole where her right eye used to be. Looking down at the blood pooling around what remained of the back of the young woman's head, Clementine found only one word came to mind.

"Sorry," wept Clementine in a quiet voice. "I'm… I'm sorry," she repeated as managed to steady her gun long enough to place it in its holster. "I…" Clementine suddenly noticed what the dead woman was clutching in her hands. It was a long brown rifle with a big scope and a knife attached to the underside of the barrel. Clementine carefully retrieved the weapon and removed its magazine; it was empty. Clem hastily located a tab on the side of the rifle and pulled it back, revealing the gun was unloaded.

"No… I…" Looking at the woman, her one remaining eye seemed to be looking right at Clem, her dead gaze horrifying the young girl. "I'm… I'm so sorry!" yelled Clem, as if she was expecting an answer. "I'm so sorry. I… I didn't mean to. I didn't know… I…" Clem trailed off as she realized the futility of what she was doing. This person would never speak again, because she killed her.

Drying her eyes, Clementine looked at the rifle she was holding, then back to the body lying in front of her. It sickened her to even think about it, but she forced herself to anyway. With nothing to show for her trip, and no way to take back what she did, Clem moved in close to search the body.

Just kneeling over the corpse was difficult due to the horrible stench. Closer examination revealed the trench coat the woman was wearing was smeared with dried blood. It was like her raincoat Clem realized. Whoever this was, she knew how to hide her presence from the dead. Clem couldn't stop herself from wondering what else this woman had known.

Rummaging through the woman's pockets, the only thing Clem found was a small rectangular rock wrapped in a piece of cloth, which Clem set aside. She then reluctantly rolled the body onto its side so she could check the backpack the woman was wearing. Reaching down to open it, Clem found herself nearly gagging on the thick aroma of fresh blood mixing with the stale stench of the trench coat. The backpack didn't have much else, just an empty water bottle and a small notepad with a pen clipped to it.

Flipping through it, Clem found some hastily scribbled notes. She tried reading them, but she couldn't focus on the words over the sight of the dead woman right in front of her. Her gun had no bullets and her backpack had almost nothing in it; she was probably just someone who was scared and hungry, and now she was dead, because of Clementine.

Unable to stand the sight of that icy blue eye judging her, Clem pocketed the notebook and reached out to pull the woman's eyelid down. Still unsettled, Clementine rolled the woman onto her back and carefully arranged her hands so that they were laying on her chest. She wasn't sure why she did it, she just hoped it would make her feel better. But it didn't, nothing seemed to ease the guilt eating away the girl.

Clementine thought about burying the woman next, but she didn't have a shovel, and looking up at the sky she realized she didn't have enough time either if she wanted to get back before dark. As Clementine collected the woman's rifle, more out of instinct than any desire to keep it, she realized the gunshot might have attracted attention, maybe even someone this person was with. With no bullets left in her own gun, or the rifle she was holding, Clem picked herself up and start racing away back towards the road.

She stopped briefly and looked back at the body, which was still neatly arranged as Clem left it. This wasn't the first person Clementine had killed, or even the second. But she knew the other people she had shot, and why. This person was a mystery to her, and she had only killed her in a moment of panic, and she couldn't have actually shot Clementine back.

The last part was the most troubling, that the woman didn't even have a loaded gun, or any bullets on her. Clementine didn't know that when she pulled the trigger, and she had been taught you never aim a gun at someone you're not willing to kill. But the person she shot may not have known that, and Clem didn't know the woman was holding an unloaded rifle when she fired.

"I'm sorry," repeated Clem one last time to herself, before turning back to the road. She walked quickly but was careful not to run, fearful she'd make too much noise if she did. Despite the uneventful walk over, Clementine couldn't stop eyeing the sides of the road for signs of trouble now, and grew more uneasy as the shadows cast by the trees grew bigger and darker as the sun dipped out of sight.

No matter how much she walked, she could never escape the nagging fear that something was waiting just out of sight for her, ready to attack. Every time Clem turned her head she expected something to jump out at her, and when it didn't happen she just tried walking faster, hopeful to get home as soon as possible. Before long, her legs were sore from walking so long, her stomach growled for something to eat, and her joints ached from gripping the rifle she took so tightly. But she refused to stop to rest, or eat, or even leave the rifle, more concerned with reaching home before nightfall than with the pain she was feeling.

Clem also couldn't stop replaying what happened in her head. The sight of the woman she had shot was seemingly seared into her mind now, and try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from thinking about what she could have done differently. Clem couldn't even bear to leave the mostly useless rifle she had taken. It was a pain toting it, and yet she felt like she had to.

If she just hadn't knocked over those cans, Clem could have sneaked out quietly, but the woman may have already spotted her through the window. Maybe if she just hadn't run, the woman wouldn't have thought to raise her gun, or maybe that would have made Clem easier to catch. If she just hadn't pulled that trigger, then they would both still be alive, unless the woman was going to use the knife on the end of her rifle to stab Clementine.

Clem's thoughts just seemed to keep moving in circles, making the poor girl's head spin. The thing that haunted Clementine the most was she didn't even think to say something before she fired. A simple 'Stop!' or a maybe 'I don't want to shoot you!' may have changed everything, but such a simple idea didn't even enter Clem's mind until long after she had left the body behind.

She only ever talked to Sarah for months now, and occasionally Omid, but he never had much to say back. There was never anyone else to speak with, until today. Clementine had nearly forgotten there were still living people left in the world. She wanted to tell herself it was because of the isolation, that it had been so long since she saw anyone new she simply didn't think about it. But there was another possibility nagging Clementine in the back of her mind; she didn't think about other people because she didn't want to find them anymore, not as long as she had Sarah and Omid.

Desperate for answers, Clem had examined the notebook she had taken, hoping to learn anything about her victim, but it told her nothing. Most of it was blank, only the first dozen or so pages had any writing, and it seemed to be mostly road names with the word 'clean' written next to it. It told Clem nothing about who she shot, or even much about where she had been.

Rounding a corner, Clementine saw a familiar quaint house come into view. Eager to return home, Clem forced her aching legs into a jog. Nearing the building, Clem thought it was odd there was no light coming from the window. Sarah usually had a lantern on by now, if not a fire. Reaching the front door, Clem knocked twice, paused, then knocked once more, her signal to Sarah that it was okay to unlock the door.

After a short wait, Clem heard the locks click open. She waited for Sarah to crack the door before undoing the chain, a precaution they had agreed to. But it didn't happen. Clem turned the knob and the door opened; the chain was already off.

"Sarah?" Clem's call received no answer, prompting her to raise the rifle she was holding, which was awkward because of her short arms. It had no bullets left, but it was better than appearing unarmed she reasoned; it certainly scared her earlier seeing it in someone else's hands. Clem pushed the door wide open with her foot and slowly moved inside, the rifle's stock tightly pressed against her shoulder. She only made it a couple of steps into the dimly lit house before a light appeared beside her.

"Suh—" Clem swung the rifle around and found the source of the light.

"Sarah?" The older girl dropped the lantern she was holding and backed away from Clem in horror, who realized she was aiming a rifle at her closest friend. "Sarah, are you okay?" asked Clem as she quickly lowered the rifle.

"I'm fine," assured a shaken Sarah. "I was just trying to surprise you."

"Surprise me? Why? Why would you do that?" Clem's harsh tone caused Sarah to look away in shame.

"I… I'm sorry," stammered Sarah. "I… I just wanted to do something special for you."

"Special? By scaring me?" asked a confused Clementine.

"By giving you a surprise party."

"Party?" Sarah picked the lantern off the ground and set it down in the living room. Hanging from the ceiling were sheets of paper that spelled out 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLEM!' in colorful handwritten letters. "It's August Twenty-ninth; you're ten years old today."

"I… I didn't even know it was August," confessed Clem.

"I did. We left Shaffer's on February Twenty-eighth. We found this place ten days later. It was a leap year, so that was March Ninth. And I've been keeping track of the days ever since…" rambled a nervous Sarah. "It… it's stupid, I'll just get rid of this." Sarah reached up to rip down the decoration.

"No don't." Sarah stopped and turned to Clem, who sighed and set the rifle on the couch. "You shouldn't have tried to surprise me like that. I was really scared when you didn't answer me."

"I'm so sorry," professed Sarah.

"It's okay," said Clem. "I was nervous when you didn't answer, and I thought something may have happened and… I just aimed my gun…" Clem suddenly found it hard to breathe.

"Are you okay? Did anything happen while you were gone?"

Clementine noticed Sarah was looking at the rifle lying on the couch. "Yeah… I… I found…" Clem watched Sarah's eyes widen in anticipation, clearly dreading whatever news was coming next. "I… I found that rifle. It doesn't have any bullets, but I thought I should take it, you know, in case we find some."

"That's it?"

"That's… that's it," assured Clem as calmly as she could. "I didn't find anything else."

"So, you didn't find any food?"

Clem sighed. "No. I found what looked like a really old store. But it was already empty. And for a long time."

Sarah sat down on the couch, clearly disheartened by this news. "I… I guess this means we'll have to move soon, like we've been talking about."

"Yeah." Clem moved the rifle aside and sat down next Sarah. "I'm sorry Sarah. I really thought I'd find something today."

"So… when do we have to leave?"

"Tomorrow, I guess?" said Clem.

"We can't maybe, I don't know, take a couple of days to get ready?"

Thinking about Sarah's question, Clem realized the longer they wait, the more likely someone else might come this way, maybe even looking for that woman. "I… I really think we should leave tomorrow," insisted Clem. "I mean, we've got food now, but it might be a while before we find more, so we should leave as soon as we can."

Sarah sighed loudly. "Yeah, that makes sense. I guess we should start packing." Clem reached out and grabbed Sarah's hand as she tried to stand up.

"Maybe, we can pack tomorrow?" suggested Clementine. "And tonight we have a party."

"Are you sure?"

Clem nodded. "I think I'd really like a party right now."