I checked the revolver Kyle had given me to find it fully loaded. Hopefully, I wouldn't run into seven zombies. Going to the first house, I peered into a window, looking into the garage.

No car.

Not even a gas can for a lawn mower.

I sighed. This might be more of a pain in the ass than I had thought it would be.

House after house yielded nothing, and I was getting frustrated. What Kyle had said kept running circles in my mind, making me angry and guilty. It also bothered me that Shane had been by himself for nearly an hour.

I had about ten minutes left to get back to the gas station to meet Kyle when I finally found a car. This house was bigger than the others, and had a two car garage.

This isn't an official rule, but always start with the multi-car households first.

The garage had a separate door but it was locked, so I went to the back and then the front door looking for a spare key.

There wasn't one.

This is why I don't consider myself lucky.

I bit my lip, thinking. Then I looked at the big picture windows on the front of the house. With a grin, I picked up a rock from one of the decorative flower beds, tossing it up and down to get used to the weight.

I tucked the revolver into the waistband of my jeans, and pitched the rock as hard as I could at the window. I couldn't help but laugh as the glass shattered, shards falling off to tinkle musically against the ground.

When you knew you weren't going to get in trouble for it, it was kind of a rush. I suddenly had a new understanding of what Shane had meant when he said people would choose to do the wrong thing.

It was kind of fun.

I kicked the remaining shards away and crawled through the window. As I looked for a way into the garage, I contemplated what counted as wrong anymore.

Shane had already said it.

Rule #5: There are no rules.

I know that might not make a lot of sense, but it was still true.

That's generally the hardest rule for people to learn. If only because it seems to blatantly contradict everything I've told you up to this point.

It doesn't make sense. But... for Christ's sake, I mean, we're living in a world where freaking dead people are walking around, eating the living. What the hell do you mean by "sense"?

It goes along with something else Shane told me once. He said that, just because you're peaceful, or because you follow "rules", doesn't ever mean that the other guy follows the same rules or that they're peaceful too.

That's a mistake that a lot of people make.

We all have different rules. And some people just don't play well together.

You need to understand that my rules are different from your rules are different from who the hell ever's rules. Everything is up for grabs and nothing is for sure.

There are no rules, because everyone follows different ones.

I eventually got into the garage, and grinned at the SUV that probably had a pretty big tank. I frowned when I realized that, even if I did know how to siphon gas, I wouldn't have any way to carry it back to Kyle.

I admit that was poor planning on my part.

I stared at the SUV, thinking.

I'll take a time out here to teach you another rule.

Rule #6: Don't talk, think.

Yup, there it is. I know you've been waiting for a Rick Grimes quote.

Most people panic, and then they get dead. You can solve just about any problem if you can learn to think. 

A light bulb went off and I went back into the house, looking for the keys. I would just drive it back to Kyle. Maybe just back to Shane. 

Kidding. Kind of. At the time I was still really pissed off at Kyle.

I went further into the house, looking in all the usual places people keep their keys. Heading toward the kitchen, I passed the stairs and stopped, my nose immediately wrinkling.

Not that I was overly familiar with the smell yet, but I was pretty sure there was something dead in here with me.

I hesitated. Did I go and check it out with all the risk that involved or did I just get out of here as quickly as possible?

I know these rules are kind of coming at you fast and furious, but this one's pretty good.

Rule #7: Don't be a horror movie chick.

Don't be that guy who just has to check out the weird noise or the suspicious smell or whatever. If it's not coming after you, don't go after it.

In the zombie apocalypse, you can't afford to buy trouble like that.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I learned that lesson the hard way.

I hesitated for a second longer before my curiosity got the better of me and I padded as quietly as I could up the wooden stairs.

The smell got stronger, leading me down the hallway to a closed door. I stood staring at it. Now that I was here, I wasn't sure I actually wanted to open the door. I thought back to Kyle calling me weak, and immediately got pissed all over again. 

On some level, I knew I wasn't proving anything, but I grabbed my gun and threw the door open anyway.

What I saw was just... there aren't any words.

First, I was overwhelmed by the fact that this was so obviously a little girl's room. The purple walls were covered in crayon drawings and Frozen posters.

The second thing that held me immobile was a small body leaning over a bigger one.

My eyes could see, but my brain wouldn't let me understand. My breath hung suspended in my throat, the hand holding the gun dangling at my side.

I stood staring as the little girl looked up at me. Her face was covered in blood and she was chewing on... on something.

I was held by the misty white eyes watching me now. My eyes flicked down to see a fan of blood-stained blonde hair and a wrist with a diamond tennis bracelet on it.

That was all I could stand to see.

I looked back up when the little girl growled. She stood unsteadily and wobbled toward me, still growling and snapping her teeth.

Tears misted my vision, and I raised the gun. "Please. Stop," I whispered.

She didn't. If anything, she came faster, stirred up by the sound.

When she reached me, I put a hand on her shoulder and turned her so that she couldn't bite me. My breath rattled in and out and hot tears streaked down my face as I felt her struggle.

Trying to turn. Trying to bite me. Trying to eat me.

I need to know you'll be able to do it again.

Shane's voice echoed in my head and my tears stopped.

I could see what it was.

This girl had gotten sick and her mother had stayed with her. That was who was lying on the floor. This little girl had turned, then eaten her mother.

The zombie kept struggling, and something in me flipped over. That switch snapped off and I raised the gun.

It was just so simple. It still is.

Now, I'm a little more wary of letting the switch get flipped. I'm becoming more aware of the fact that a little piece of me breaks off every time it does. Maybe that's just because I'm starting to lose more than I can afford to, so I feel the loss a little more acutely.

We've all got pieces missing. For some, that statement's more literal than for others, but all in good time, right?

Your group though, not so much. Seems to me like you've more or less got all your pieces.

My eyes stayed open when I pulled the trigger.