I think after the fact, Shane was feeling a little slap happy. He'd been so wound up, then it had all blown apart and none of us were dead.

He was downright cheerful after his little toe-to-toe with Brayden because he smiled at me and said, "Might as well check the school. That guy was protecting something."

He actually laughed and I raised an eyebrow, a little concerned. But he seemed okay, he didn't seem unstable or shaky or anything that I could possibly be worried about, even if he was laughing right after having killed a person.

I think it was just the relief, you know? It was just rushing through him at ninety miles an hour and came out this way, with a laugh and a positive attitude.

Melanie made a small, distressed sound, but before she could say anything, Shane was at the doors of the school. She looked at me of all people and said, "Now we're stealing from him?"

I shook my head, equal parts sadness and incredulity running through me. Sacha rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian that earned him a grin from Kyle. Then, in English, he said, "It's not like he's going to be needing it."

Sacha went after Shane and the rest of us went after Sacha, leaving Melanie and Brayden in the parking lot with the dead man.

That man had been protecting quite a bit. He even had medical supplies and I sat in amusement, watching as Shane wrapped my hands up using some sterile gauze. My palms had been cut up pretty good when I'd hit the ground, but I had to stop him from using the entire roll on me. If it had been up to him, I wouldn't have been able to use my hands.

The apocalyptic world has a weird set of scales, right? It all balances out, but at the same time, it always feels just a little off kilter.

We gathered it all up and went back to the vehicles.

We ended up having to pitch camp in some woods near the road, darkness falling quickly in the middle of winter.

The short of it is this: We went to sleep that night and woke up to find that Melanie and Brayden had disappeared.

They'd left us.

When we woke up, Sam came over to stand in front of us, looking like we were a firing squad. He looked directly at Shane, and said, "They took out on their watch. I didn't stop them."

Shane nodded. He didn't look particularly surprised. Sitting on the tailgate, rubbing his hands together to warm them, he said, "Why didn't you go with them?"

Unease flickered over Sam's face, and he looked around to find all of us watching him. His gaze lingered longest on Vik and Danny.

I was kind of curious myself. I mean, he had obviously known Danny at least for a bit, but he'd been with Melanie and Brayden from the beginning. That isn't something to be taken lightly.

He took a deep breath and said, "I like you guys more. And I had watch with Sacha after them anyway. Wasn't gonna leave you guys unguarded." He mumbled the last part, looking at Shane in starts and stops.

Shane scratched at his neck. "He ask you to go with 'em?"

Sam nodded slowly. "I said no."

"Said more than that," Shane commented in an off-handed kind of way, and I wanted to laugh at how Sam's eyes widened.

Now things were actually starting to click into place for me. I'd been more than slightly surprised when Shane had put Melanie and Brayden on the same watch, but now I got it. He'd just been giving them an out, and getting rid of a problem.

Shane stood up and patted Sam's shoulder. "I expected they'd leave. Hoped they would. Wasn't sure about you."

"You were awake?" Sam asked.

Shane nodded. "Wasn't going to let them try somethin' funny. Wasn't gonna stop 'em. Figured it would be his style to slip away like that, trying to leave us in a lurch. Chicken shit move, leaving us unguarded."

Shane stretched and rolled his neck, the bones popping audibly. Repeating what he'd said earlier, Shane smiled. "Wasn't sure about what you'd do."

"Can I, um... I just kind of assumed you'd be okay with me sticking around." Sam looked down, then up at Shane almost defiantly.

I think the rest of us were a little shocked. It was the most we'd heard Sam say in weeks.

Shane huffed out a laugh. "You know what they say about assuming?"

"That it makes an ass out of you and me both," Sam answered, looking a little surprised when Shane laughed and clapped him lightly on the shoulder.

"Rather have you around than not, Sammy. Trade those two for you any day. You're resourceful, smart and honest. Think we'll keep you around." Shane knelt down and tightened the laces of his boots.

And that was that. Sam was in, for real, not being tied down with whatever bond he had to Melanie and Brayden. If there had been any bond other than knowing them the longest.

But, honestly you wanna know something funny? And I'm talking downright hilarious?

When Melanie and Brayden left us, they took their share of the supplies we'd taken from the man Shane had killed.

God I hate hypocrites.

But the one thing about this world that rings truer than anything else... You always get what's coming to you.

A lot of the time you get  many things you don't deserve. And we've gotten more than our fair share. But every now and then you get a little cosmic justice too. Which just proves God has a wicked sense of humor.

We still had the SUV. I guess they had thought that would be too loud, maybe they thought Shane would try to stop them.

You know, 'cause he's such a horrible, controlling dictator. Whatever.

Some people just think they're more important than they are.

I don't know. I mean, I guess I felt a little bad. But probably only because I knew it was coming.

We had been driving for maybe an hour or so when something came running out in front of us. Shane slammed on the brakes, and I heard the squeal as Danny did the same in the SUV behind us.

We just kind of stared in shock.

It was Melanie. She was covered in blood.

Shane and I both got out of the truck and she motioned for us to follow her, her movements frantic.

We both ran after her when she took off, dodging through the trees.

She led us to a small clearing where we found Brayden.

Or what was left of him. He was still alive, but he'd been gutted. Melanie looked at me desperately, like I could do anything.

Horribly, I didn't even want to try. Like I'd said, it almost felt like justice for the way they had looked at Shane. Now Brayden was looking at Shane like Shane would save him.

It was sad and hilarious and horrid and merciful and good and bad and so many different things that I couldn't tell you what it truly was.

Shane just said, "Do you want a bullet?" His voice was all stone. Controlled, even, neither compassionate nor condemning.

Melanie shrieked, clutching at her hair and I noticed it. One on her shoulder. And another at the small of her back. Her eyes were bloodshot and I didn't think it was because she was crying.

I knew Shane had seen them, just like he saw everything.

Brayden never answered. He just died.

Just like that. It's just so easy you know? I don't know, at least, for some people it is. I really think that some people just die harder than others. It takes more to force that last breath on some kinds of people.

Shane didn't give him a bullet. Melanie became hysterical when he pulled out his knife.

But the fever is so quick. Her erratic state, plus the sickness just sucked consciousness away, killing her a little with every rapid breath she took, the muscles in her legs trembling.

Shane stopped Brayden from turning, then before I could move or blink or say anything, he did the same for Melanie. She was dead anyway.

We stood there for a long, silent moment, death heavy in the clearing.

Shane cleaned off his knife and stood up, looking at me with eyes that were much too far away.

He went to walk past me, but I sidestepped in front of him, forcing him to stop. He sighed and looked down at me and said, "It was always going to be this. Wasn't it?"

I nodded. I think, on some level we had all known it. When, not if.

Some people are just meant to die. And you can almost smell it on them.

It's because we live with it every day. That's why you can almost tell.

Death is a constant companion. It's not bad. Doesn't make it good. It just is, and eventually, you learn to recognize it. Shane had seen it on Melanie and Brayden. Had read it as easily as you would a cheap paperback.

I know it sounds cold, but it is what it is.

You ask me if I think Shane's responsible, or if Sam was. Because they had let them leave. But that's a wrong kind of thinking. Just because you know someone, doesn't make you responsible for them. Not completely. We all make our own choices.

And you live with them. Or you die by them. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

Shane scratched at his eyebrow, and I frowned when blood streaked its way across his skin. He didn't seem to notice though.

"The ground is frozen," he said, voice distant and hollow. Still controlled though.

I used a thumb to wipe away the blood, then took his hand, ignoring the stickiness there. "We can burn them?"

Shane just shook his head.

In the end, we did nothing. Because there seemed to be something more meaningless and horrible about actually doing something. It would feel like a lie, and there is nothing more pitiful than a lie in the face of death.

They'd rest there for eternity.

We'd move on.

We got back to the road, and since Shane didn't seem like he was going to talk for a long time, I said, "Zombies. There wasn't anything to be done."

Everyone nodded sort of gravely. I was taken aback when Danny said, "The ground is frozen."

It made me shiver as she echoed Shane eerily. I just nodded and she looked up at the sky, fingers going to her cross necklace. Her lips moved silently, her eyes closing, and we waited.

It was probably the very least we could do.

Danny finished and we all loaded back up and continued on until nightfall.

It should have made me sad when I realized that it didn't feel like anything was missing as we got ready for the night.

I didn't feel like anything had been taken away. And that seemed pitiful to me. Sad and small. Morbidly, I thought there was some comfort in knowing that people would miss me if I died. 

I know that sounds wrong, but it's just an argument to stay alive, right? It's a reason to fight, and you can use as many of those as you can get.

I thought about Shane. About how he would be if I was gone and shivered, shying violently away from that thought. All I'm going to say is it wouldn't be pretty. Of course the reverse is true too.

The point I'm meandering toward is that those people you love matter more than anything. So it won't ever matter how hurt or tired or just done in you are. You'll think of them first and yourself last and you'll live, because that's really the only option.

I lay there that night with Shane's arms around me, and I didn't think of the people I had watched die today.

Because, as harsh as it is, the dead ones just don't matter as much as the live ones. I've got dead people. We've all got dead people. And it's sad and we're probably supposed to be sensitive about it.

But where's the honesty in that? I find that rarely does sensitivity mix well with honesty, but honesty is what you want the most.

You don't want sorry. You don't want 'I feel your loss'. You just want them to be honest and realize that they don't have anything to say.

We're scared of the dead. Or we're sad for them. That's what's honest.

We miss them, absolutely. That's honest too. We probably even still care to some extent, but I think there's some sort of mechanism built in, so we can let go, even just a little bit.

It's probably why we bury our dead. It's why we mourn for them. Because we just need a moment of adjustment to let care go, and allow memory and love to take their place.

You don't forget the ones you love. That would be cruel. You just don't have to be concerned for them any more.

I know this is all pretty heavy. And it probably seems incredibly insensitive.

But that's my truth. Yours could be different. And that's fine. But that seems like a lot of weight to carry to me.

We woke up and we ate. We talked. We even laughed.

Then we moved on.

Because you always move on.

That's the life lesson: There is no permanent. It doesn't matter how solid something feels. You're never going to just settle in one place, you will always lose something or someone.

And you will always, always have to run.