The stream moved lazily past us, murky in the bends, but clear enough in the straight-aways. Shane sat down on the thick grass along the bank, taking off his boots. When I raised an eyebrow at him, he muttered, "There is literally nothing worse than wet socks."

I snorted because, really? He nodded emphatically and said, "Haven't you ever heard of trench-foot?"

Now I rolled my eyes, and he grinned.

Shane took his socks off, shoving them into his boots, then waded into the stream. I settled onto a flat, sun-warmed rock nearby, keeping an eye out. He swore, probably having stepped on a sharp rock, then squeezed his eyes and mouth tightly shut.

Carefully, he peeled his disgusting shirt over his head. I almost gagged a little on his behalf at the low squelching sounds that came from the gore-soaked material. He bent forward at the waist, rapidly scooping handfuls of water up and over his head, scrubbing the dead blood out of his hair and off of his face.

When it was gone, he shook his head, spraying water like a wet dog. He caught my eye and gave me a small smile before he dunked the shirt into the water, scrubbing the fabric against itself, then wringing it out.

He did this five or six times before the water started to run clear. I sighed and turned my gaze back to the trees swaying gently around us. I could recognize willows at least, and dogwoods. Mostly I just cared that they were quiet and still, with no movement between their ancient trunks.

It almost made me wish that we could stay here. That we could set up some kind of barrier around the barn house and eat peaches and strawberries and deer jerky for the rest of our lives.

But that's just a pretty trap. Most people think what they should do is set up a community... with people.

I find that humans are excellent at convincing themselves that what they want is the same thing as what they need.

Really I think movement is the only solid strategy. At least, until the number of dead starts to decrease, maybe. Ideas like permanence and safety are still pretty much pipe dreams at this point. And I'm sorry if I sound terrible and sad. I truly am.

I've just seen it crumble twice, and once was really enough. 

Anyway.

Shane finished getting the zombie out of his t-shirt, splashing water over his head and chest again just to be sure, and waded back to the shore. He flopped down on the sun-baked grass near the rock I was perched on. Water shimmered in his dark hair and pooled in the hollow of his throat.

After a few moments of watching water streak down the sides of his chest and stomach, I said, "I thought you wanted to check out the roads and walk a perimeter?"

"I do," he murmured, eyes closed, face tilted toward the sun. "But I also just want to take a moment."

I didn't have to ask why. I already knew.

He wanted to stay, and hated the idea as much as I did. 

We stayed like that for maybe fifteen minutes; plenty of time for the sun to dry Shane and his shirt. I looked up from where I had been watching the stream flow past when he stood, tugging his shirt on over his head.

He buckled his gun belt back on, and I stood, stretching to work out the kinks. 

With a sigh, I hopped down off the rock, then froze when a gunshot cracked through the air.

I couldn't tell which direction it had come from, which probably meant that whoever had fired it was a ways away from us. Sound disperses over distance, so if the shot had been closer, we'd have been able to tell where it came from.

Shane had his head cocked slightly, his eyes narrowed and scanning the trees around us.

Eventually, he looked over at me, and softly said, "Can you make the run back?"

"Can you?" I asked, already kind of breathless with adrenaline and a little bit of fear. 

He gave me a look that would have been dry if it hadn't also been so tense. Without another word, we took off at a jog, wanting to get back to the others quickly. We didn't want to be wiped out, though, if we ended up running into a fight. So while the slower pace was slightly infuriating, it was also smarter, and safer. 

When we got back, we stopped just at the edge of the tree line, watching the barn house. Smoke was still rising in a thin stream from the backyard. When I closed my eyes, I heard a low burble of conversation. I wondered if they maybe hadn't heard the gunshot, then my eyes found Cassidy on the roof, hunkered down next to the big chimney so she didn't outline herself and turn herself into a target.

Shane whistled and her gaze zeroed in on us, her rifle already pressed into her shoulder. When she realized who it was, she waved and relaxed her grip on the gun, though the butt still stayed nestled gently in her shoulder. 

We moved quickly up the driveway and went around the house, directly to the backyard. Aaron stood next to what was left of the fire, kicking more dirt over the embers to put them out. The thin stream we'd seen from afar turned to a trickle, the smoke bursting up in fits and starts as it tried to escape the smothering dirt.

Without Shane even having to ask, Aaron pointed toward the house. Shane went across the yard and into the kitchen, where I could see a bustle of activity through the grimy sliding glass door. I went over to Aaron, helping him stamp out the last of the embers.

Grimly, he said, "We got most of it done before we heard that shot. Were you and Moore able to figure out which direction it came from?"

A little too sarcastically for the situation, I said, "Technically, I'm Moore too, you know?"

He graced that statement with a small eye roll, which would have surprised and amused me if I hadn't been so wound up. Shaking his head, he said, "Could you?"

I shook my head, strands of hair sticking to my sweaty neck. Bouncing from foot to foot, I said, "No, it was too far away to tell."

"Why would it only be one shot?"

I very nearly had a heart attack when Viktoria's voice came from behind me, scaring the hell out of me. I sucked in a breath and whirled around, just to find Vik looking toward the road with wide, nervous eyes. 

Aaron beat me to an answer, saying, "Someone might have run into trouble out there."

Viktoria gave him a keen stare, then said, "If you're in trouble enough to use a gun, you don't have so little trouble that it only needs to be fired once."

"Maybe someone was calling it quits," Aaron responded, tone very dark.

I bit my lip, a little surprised that he had out and out said it. I mean, it was something we were all aware of. We'd seen the bodies of those who hadn't known enough. But... still, it wasn't really something we talked about, or actively acknowledged. 

Aaron caught my look and grimaced, but he didn't try to make it sound better. Vik was still staring toward the road, and I gently nudged her arm, making her jump. When she looked at me, I hugged her and brushed strands of toffee colored hair away from her face. Quietly, I said, "Go find your brother and make sure you both have everything, okay?"

She nodded, looking relieved at the idea of having something she was supposed to be doing. Vik turned and went back inside, my eyes following her across the yard.

"She's gonna be okay, you know," Aaron said, making me look up at him in surprise. 

He had finished with the fire and had come to stand next to me, though, I noticed he kept about two feet of space between us. I didn't want to appreciate that, because it would be like admitting that I was jumpy around other men, but at the same time, I still liked that he was conscious enough to do it.

When I furrowed my eyebrows, he nodded toward Viktoria had disappeared into the house and said, "She's a tough one. She'll be okay."

Briefly I wondered what had brought that up. Disturbingly, Aaron was kind enough to answer a question I hadn't voiced. Shifting his eyes toward me again, he said, "You don't have a very good poker face, Raleigh. At least not here, around these people."

Now I raised an eyebrow. "And around other people?"

He pursed his lips slightly and looked away, toward the road. Moving slightly from foot to foot in an almost nervous-looking sway, he muttered, "Cold as ice."

I blinked once, then kind of smiled, which seemed to startle him. My smile grew when he chanced actually meeting my gaze, and I sighed. Brushing beads of sweat off my forehead, I said, "I just worry about her—"

"You worry about all of them," he interrupted, then ducked his head, blushing lightly.

I almost couldn't stand how charmingly cute he was. Laughing a little, I said, "Don't we all?"

Aaron shrugged, green eyes trained on the grass. I knocked the back of my hand against his shoulder and said, "Thanks, Aaron."

He opened his mouth, probably to ask "for what", but I had already made my way to the door leading into the kitchen. Danielle had pretty much finished packing up the food, jerky presumably at the bottom of her bag, more delicate fruit carefully set on top.

I knew it wouldn't last long, but the idea of having fruit for even one more day seemed to make everything seem less dire.

She looked up, her face tight, light caramel skin looking drained of healthy color. Taking a moment to tie her hair back in a more secure ponytail, she asked, "What happened? Shane wasn't saying much."

"He has a one-track mind," I offered and she gave me a look that told me she wasn't buying. Shrugging, I leaned against the island counter they had been preparing the deer meat on earlier. Biting at the inside of my cheek, I said, "He doesn't like to speculate. We don't know where it came from or why it happened. He's not going to sit around a guess when we've got other things to do."

Danny nodded at that and zipped the bag shut before shouldering it. Realizing that the others had probably gotten everything pretty much squared away, I went up the stairs and peeked into each room I passed, making sure nothing had been overlooked.

I found Shane and Kyle talking quietly in the bedroom Shane and I had been using. Shane looked up at me and gave me a thumbs up before turning back to the map Kyle had spread out over the foot of the bed. I said, "I think everything's pretty much good to go. Can I get Cas down from the roof?"

Kyle snorted, though the sound was less than amused. Shane nodded, still staring at the map, like he could force it to reveal a destination that would be safe, or... at least this world's version of safe.

Sighing, I turned back around and found the trap door leading to the roof. Cas had left the ladder down, so I thankfully didn't have to make a fool of myself trying to reach the handle. I made my way into the dusty, uncomfortably warm attic space, taking a cursory look around. I didn't find anything that seemed too useful, so I crawled toward the open window on the far end of the attic.

I emerged dusty and sticky. Cas chuckled when she caught sight of me prompting me to flip her off, which only resulted in her laughing harder. I did what I could to brush the dirt off of my sweat-sticky skin, then crawled over the  rough shingles to sit next to her.

Peering over the edge of the roof and shivering at the idea of falling, I said, "We're about ready to go."

Cassidy sighed. "Okay."

Neither of us moved for a second. Then, she said, "I knew we could never just stay here, but I still couldn't stop myself from thinking about it."

My heart ached a little. It was a testament to how tired we all were if Cas was the one talking about settling into one place. Generally, she completely agrees with me about moving and keeping on the move.

I guess that's maybe why we tried to stick it out with you guys. And I guess that's why it didn't work.

A lot of your people blame us, because we're the noticeable catalyst. But maybe none of you really wanted to live life with your eyes open. We tried to make the changes we did, because those were the changes that needed to be made.

You're the ones who thought you had everything figured out. Turns out that nobody knows everything.

But I'm skipping ahead a little. There was one more major thing that happened before we ran into you.