I don't think that people used to appreciate how glorious boredom is. If you're safe enough to feel bored... you've got a pretty good thing going.

That's what we were. We were stuck inside, with limited sources of entertainment and we were bored.

And it was great.

I mean, every now and then, things would get a little tense between certain members of the group... but it never resulted in anything serious.

By the end of the fourth day, we were stir crazy as all hell, and food was getting thin.

I guess karma started to take pity on at least one of us, because the sun finally decided to make an appearance on the fifth day. By the end of the seventh, the snow had melted enough for us to leave.

Nothing had really come of the zombies. They'd moved slowly through the deep snow, but since I didn't have an altercation with any cats, they didn't ever know we were there.

We left, and Shane decided it might be a good idea to head south. We all thought that, minus the possibility of random ice storms, the likelihood of getting stuck like that again would be slimmer the more we headed toward the equator.

We made it another week before it came undone.

I think we were somewhere in Virginia, maybe North Carolina, I'm not really sure. Then again, does it really matter?

We needed gas.

Here's Rule #26: If it feels shaky, don't.

Shane spent a long time just watching the parking lot. There were scattered zombies, but there were a lot of cars that looked like they'd been just left too. Like people had all gathered up at what I think was a school, then something had chased them off.

If we were lucky, there would be something more than gas to find down there.

The problem with #26? It's just not always viable.

The apocalypse life lesson here, that goes hand in hand with the rule, is that necessity will always trump uncertainty.

#26 is a good rule. It just so happens that a lot of the time, an empty tank or an empty belly supersedes it.

When another five minutes had passed, with Shane still looking at the parking lot, Kyle asked, "Yes or no, Shane?"

Shane sighed. Pointing to the zombies, he asked, "Why aren't they moving more?"

Cassidy frowned. "'Cause they're dead?"

"Hilarious," Shane muttered, watching the zombies. "That would be funny if a zombie hadn't tried to chew my face off this morning."

Unfortunately, he wasn't exaggerating. Shane had left the house we had stayed in this morning to take a look around, and had run into a group of about three zombies coming around the corner.

Cassidy just shrugged, a finger tapping against the trigger guard of her rifle.

"We still need gas," I murmured.

Shane scowled then shook his head.

See, the problem here, is that Shane always wants to follow his gut. But that's just the first problem, because there can't ever be just one, right?

The next problem is that his gut is usually right.

Doesn't seem like such a problem, now does it?

The problem is that sometimes he can't listen to it, even when it's right. Then he's got to try and pick up the pieces when things go wrong, just the way he thought they would.

Shane shook his head again, making the tiniest sound of displeasure before he raked a hand through his hair and said, "Okay. Take the dead ones out first. Then we can worry about gas and anything else. Check under the cars. I don't want anybody gettin' their feet knocked out from under them because one of those things is beneath a car."

Shane took another breath, obviously unhappy with this. We made our way down the small incline, working almost painfully slowly through the cars, checking everything.

We found out why the zombies weren't moving much.

They'd been tied in place.

I crouched down next to the last one I killed, and plucked at the wire securing it, looking up when I heard a step behind me.

Shane looked at the wire, then at me. He turned slightly to look at the others taking out the last couple zombies, and muttered, "They're all like this."

I shivered, a sudden creepy feeling skittering its way up my spine. I shared a concerned look with him, then stood. Both Shane and I started violently when Kyle popped open one of the gas tanks, starting to siphon out the fuel.

"It's quiet," I said to him, almost whispering. I felt like if I disturbed the peace, then something would happen. Something bad.

Shane nodded once and I asked, "Should we check inside?"

He frowned at the school rising up in front of us, the brown brick interrupted by white splotches where snow had managed to cling to corners and in grooves. He looked at the glass front doors, smeared in rusty red and shook his head. "Let's just get the gas."

The others were all engaged in one task or the other, combing through cars or hauling filled gas cans back to our vehicles. I think that everyone was feeling a little edgy because we all moved in groups of two or three, not wanting to be separated too much.

Kyle came over to us and looked at the building. "There might be food in there. Looks like people gathered up here."

Shane made a noncommittal sort of sound and Kyle raised an eyebrow at him before looking at me. I just shrugged and Kyle bit nervously at his lower lip, his eyes appraising the school in a different way.

As a side note, did you know that fear, nervousness, uncertainty, are all catching? People pick up on those feelings easily. They're easier to catch than a common cold, and can act like a fuse just waiting to be lit.

That's what was happening here.

We were more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. That's what my grandfather would have said.

It seemed appropriate since, sooner or later, the cat's tail always gets caught.

Kyle rolled his shoulders a little and looked around again. "They were tied in place."

Both Shane and I nodded at him. Kyle waited, then asked the thing we were all wondering. "Why?"

All three of us jumped when Cassidy said, "Guard dogs?"

She and Danny made their way over to us and I frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

Cassidy shrugged. "Zombies keep people away."

Shane eyed the school again. "And on that note, how 'bout we hurry this up?"

Danny snorted and said, "That beats the hell out of bad idea number one." She nudged Cassidy with an elbow. "She wanted to go check out the inside."

Cas just rolled her eyes, but they went back to going through the cars, leaving me with the boys again. Shane tapped my elbow and said, "Come on. Let's hurry up so we can get the hell out of here."

I nodded and we started toward the cars nearest the school. I think that Shane was thinking that if anyone was going to take that risk, it should be him. And by this time he had quit arguing about me coming with him.

A car that looked particularly promising was practically right next to the doors. It was also locked and Shane groaned softly. When I looked at him, he explained, "We need to find a slimjim at some point."

With another sigh, he pulled a crowbar and said, "Stand back."

I did, and Shane used the length of metal to bust out the window. I flinched and looked around automatically, the crash of breaking glass horrifyingly loud.

Shane grimaced and unlocked the doors. "Battery must be toast. I was all set to have to pop the hood and yank out the connectors."

It took me a moment to understand that he was talking about dealing with the alarm.

Then, since I'd put that freaking thought out into the universe, the sound of an alarm did rip through the quiet air. Both Shane and I looked over to find that Sacha and Vik had done what we had, except their car didn't have a dead battery.

Shane ran over and popped the hood, disabling the alarm. We all stood, seemingly frozen as the sound echoed around us. Sacha, white-faced and wide-eyed, looked up at Shane who just shook his head. Looking to the rest of us, he called, "All right. I'm done with this. We're leaving."

A sigh of relief I didn't even know I needed escaped, but since we had already gone through the trouble, I opened the trunk of the car to find it piled haphazardly with boxed and canned foods.

I heard footsteps. Running footsteps. They sounded almost erratic and I turned, my hand going to my belt, reaching for my machete, expecting a fresh zombie.

I noticed several things. One, Shane was maybe nine feet away from me. Two, he had his gun out. Three, he was shouting.

Then I noticed that the footsteps had stopped, and turned all the way around.

My breath caught when I saw the man standing there with a gun pointed at my head.

You know when someone just looks crazy? You can tell. You can actually see the madness.

And that's all I saw. I saw how it fractured his eyes and made his hands shake. I saw how it made him jump nervously from foot to foot, and made his mouth work like he was trying to say something, but couldn't settle on what to say since it was all bouncing around in his head.

Eventually I had to breathe again and took in the smallest, quietest breath I possibly could, sure that he would hear it and it would set him off.

Shane moved forward and the man spun around, screaming, "You're not supposed to be here! You're not here! I'm the only one that's here here. Go! Leave!"

I took a step back, catching the man's attention. He pointed the gun at me and I could see saliva spray as he said, "Don't move. I'll kill you!"

Part of me wondered why Shane hadn't just shot him already. The other half was a little perturbed that that was my first course of action. But only a little.

My too-slow brain finally realized the problem. The guy was exactly in the middle between us. If Shane shot him, the bullet might hit me too.

Shane wasn't going to take the chance. And if anyone else got hurt, it would be because of me.

Nobody spoke. There would be no point. He was too far gone.

I caught Shane's eyes and widened my own. He grimaced, then ever so slightly tilted his head to the right. The man must have caught some movement of mine because he started looking between me and Shane, his movements so harsh my own neck hurt just watching him.

He started screaming again, but I couldn't make out what he was saying. What I did catch was when he put his finger on the trigger and pointed at me again.

I dove to the right and the report of a shot rang out, sharp and clear. I stared down at the broken glass glittering under me and didn't dare to raise my head. A thin ribbon of red worked across the pavement, out from under one of my hands.

My muscles trembled. My lungs started to burn.

Then someone was picking me up and I felt rough hands run over me, checking for wounds. I looked up at Shane's white, tense face and asked, "Am I okay?"

I honestly couldn't tell. For all I knew, the man had shot me, and Shane had shot him at exactly the same time.

Shane released a long breath and pulled me into him, almost crushing the breath from me. Unable to actually feel my hands, I pressed them into his back, holding on. My eyes felt like they'd been glued open. I couldn't even blink.

Shane pulled away and tucked a strand of hair back. Seriously, he said, "You're fine."

My breath rushed in and I blinked and staggered into him again, his arms the only thing keeping me upright for the moment.

I closed my eyes, then opened them just as quickly, the image of the gun pointed at me painted there in the dark. I took in a huge breath and my legs solidified again, letting me stand on my own again.

Shane made sure I was okay, placing a hand on the side of my neck, swiping a thumb along my jaw before he turned and went to the now dead man.

Forcing myself to look, I realized that Shane hadn't been screwing around. He'd shot the man in the head, killing him instantly. He crouched down next to the man and took his gun, almost prying it from his hand, tucking it into his bag.

I started when Kyle put his hand on my shoulder. I leaned into him, his presence comforting while I watched Shane go through the man's pockets.

We all turned when Melanie's shrill voice said, "It's not enough that you murdered him?"

Shane rocked back on his heels in surprise. Echoing, he asked, "Murdered?"

He stood up and I saw the shock etched into the lines of his face.

Melanie stood shaking next to Brayden, staring at the body at Shane's feet. Danny caught my eye and we looked at each other, confused. What did Melanie mean? Shane hadn't murdered that guy.

Braydon nodded and I felt suddenly sick. I knew that this was it. He was actually going to do this. "You shot him, didn't you? That's known as murder."

Kyle stiffened at the condescending tone, growling low in his throat.

Shane stared blankly at Brayden, then looked at us. I noticed that Sacha was now standing on the other side of Kyle. I saw Kyle scowl, but Sacha's face stayed unreadable as he scrutinized those two.

Sam spoke up. "But Brayden... he had a gun. He was going to shoot Raleigh."

I looked over in surprise. Usually Sam stayed quiet, letting Melanie or Brayden do the talking. I had just figured it was because he had known them the longest.

Brayden sneered at Sam and my already bad opinion of him sank into the negatives. He snapped, "So that makes it all right? What gives Shane the right to decide if he lived or not?"

At this point, I was completely lost. How had Shane decided anything? He'd been shoved into this situation. He didn't choose anything, which was what Brayden seemed to be implying.

"Well..." Cas paused, frowning. "What else could he have done?"

Brayden threw his hands up like we were being the unreasonable ones here. "We could have taken his gun."

"How?" I snarled. I knew that Shane was more than capable of something like that. The glaring problem was that Shane had been four feet away from the guy. Oh, and that the guy had wanted to kill us.

Brayden shifted but said, "I'm sure the soldier boy could have figured something out." He seemed to look down his nose at Shane, which was kind of an impressive feat considering that Shane was taller than him by more than a foot.

With more contempt than I would have thought physically possible, Brayden said, "He just liked doing it. What else would you expect from someone who had signed up to become a murderer? He just likes to kill. Just like he murdered Laura."

It took me a minute to remember the poor girl who had been bitten, leading to our meeting them.

I actually have to take back my earlier statement. You can't always see the crazy.

As soon as he finished, there was a heavy, horrible silence. For some reason, the air tasted like copper to me.

There was no actual movement, but you could almost feel how the others pulled away from Brayden, towards Shane, whose face had gone dark and cold.

Brayden paled and seemed to realized he'd stepped over some sort of line.

We stood in silence when Shane walked toward Brayden with measured steps. He stared Brayden down for a moment, then said, "Why didn't you take his gun away, Brayden?"

Not the approach I had been expecting.

Brayden sputtered, but Shane didn't really give him the chance to answer. "Why didn't you talk to him? If you thought there was some other way to handle that, why didn't you speak up?"

Shane leaned in a little and, lowering his voice by a fraction, he said, "Because you're a coward. You're a coward who's more than happy to reap the benefits of others' sacrifices, just so long as you don't have to spill blood."

Now Shane really got into Brayden's face, a sneer of his own crawling over his mouth. "I 'bout had you figured the first time we met. My guess was, 'he's one of those pricks who screams about his rights and beliefs and what the fuck ever, but won't do jack shit to defend them'. You're the kind who'd look down on someone who'd bleed for what he thinks is right. You'd condemn a man for doing what it takes to protect what's his."

"I think the words I'm looking for are all talk and no action," Shane spat. "You didn't like it, why didn't you fucking do something about it?"

Shane shook his head in disgust and turned his back on Brayden, who seemed to understand that he didn't even warrant caution from Shane. That he had just been dismissed. He seemed to finally find his voice. Half-screaming, pointing at the body, he said, "You're still a murderer! And that makes me better than you in that respect."

I wondered why he thought that meant anything. He looked around at us, like it would mean something, and was obviously aghast at our indifference.

Shane snorted and nobody could believe Brayden had actually said what he did. It was absolutely ludicrous.

I mean, it made zero sense. And that's not just me. Even you seem to get it, which I appreciate.

But Brayden kept going. "Paid murdered, that's what you were. I'm sure you just love all of this. Now you can kill all you want."

He stopped and took half a step back when Shane snarled, "It's something to consider." Shane turned. "But I wouldn't waste the effort on you."

Brayden paled further when he finally caught Shane's meaning.

Shane turned his back on Brayden again, then stopped. He looked at me and said, "I'm a killer."

Neither of us blinked and I saw as Brayden was pulled up short. Then he finally put his sneer back on and said, "I believe we've established that."

Shane said, "No. You said I'm a murderer. I'm not a murderer. There's a difference. I don't expect you to know the difference."

I nodded at Shane. I felt like he needed to know that I knew the difference.

Brayden seemed to have run out of words, and I felt like my insides had been sucked out of me. I was just so tired.

Bone deep tired, you know?

I was going to put an end to this little drama.

Glaring as best I could at Melanie and Brayden, I said, "Look, you've really only got two options. Either you stick with us and deal with the way we do things, or you take your chances on your own. Pick one. Now."

They wavered at my sudden ultimatum, but I think, deep down, Brayden knew that if he had run into that crazy guy instead of Shane, he and Melanie would have been dead.

So, for better or for worse, they stayed with us.

For the time being.