When you've been with someone, or with a group of people, long enough, you don't have to really talk anymore. I think I've said this before, but it has bearing here.

Before, we talked to share ideas or gossip or thoughts. We had a lot to talk about. People, movies, books, music, politics, religion, love, lust, our jobs. The list could go on and on.

But what happens when you take that all away?

What happens is we get overwhelmed by our more animalistic tendencies. We become aggressive or submissive, we seek strength and reject weakness, we avoid fights we can't win or we look for fights to prove that we can.

The need for higher thinking is removed and we learn the ugly truth: that the wolf is better than we are because at least the wolf kills indiscriminately and only with a purpose. To feed or to protect.

Some people left, like us, try to kill like the wolf kills. Others clung to their so-called higher reasons for why some people should die and some should live. But the truth of the matter is that there's never a reason for it. There's probably a plan it falls into that we just can't see, but Death doesn't have a reason, and he doesn't need one either.

So I quit trying to look for one. I stopped asking why and just started wondering when.

It was easier that way. I wouldn't venture to call it better. Rule #23 in case you need a refresher. I honestly used to think of myself as an optimistic person. I kind of had to be to convince people who'd had their legs blown off that they could, in fact, walk again. If I didn't believe it, they wouldn't either. Simple. I wasn't unrealistic. I knew that hard work was the only thing that would get me or anyone anywhere worth being.

Sometimes you'd get a lucky break and sometimes I would think that certain people were more prone to those than others were. And that's fine. Not everyone can have the same lot in life and the fact remains that the human condition is one of suffering.

It doesn't have to be constant, but I always reminded myself that things were more prone to chaos than they were to order.

Chemistry actually has a name for this: Entropy.

If I'm remembering correctly, the definition of entropy is "a system's tendency to gradually decline toward disorder." Or something like that. The universe builds entropy with every second, pulling the whole shooting match ever closer to the disorder nature craves.

It's why trees don't grow in straight lines, why perfectly poured concrete cracks and disintegrates into rocky powder, why cities spring up and flood out with crooked streets and sideways buildings.

Humanity has spent thousands and thousands of years trying to hold back the tide of entropy. We established rules and governments and laws to try and wrangle the universe into submission with the lasso called Order. But, the thing is, is that nature eventually wins.

Now, this is not to say that nature rejects order, period. No one could think that who has seen the perfect synchronicity of bees, or has heard of the Fibonacci Sequence or the golden ratio. Viruses are more efficient and orderly than the most tightly structured business humans could create. They have one purpose, and they carry out that purpose without fail, with no variation in operations.

Performance is another matter, but that's not what I'm trying to say here.

I guess what I'm really getting at is my final rule, so far. More might be made, but for now, this is the last one.

Rule #37: Expect the unexpected.

Slightly cheesy, I know, and not exactly original. But if you walk around here thinking that things have established themselves in an orderly pattern all by themselves, then you've got another thing coming. 

That's different from things having patterns, but the overarching truth of life is that if things appear random it's because they are. Hannibal Smith said, "I believe that no matter how random things may appear, there's still a plan."

I would venture to say that Hannibal was wrong. You make plans, then you make contingencies, and finally you accept that fate might have other ideas. You sink or you swim and those who understand that riptides can pull you out at any time are the ones that make it back to shore.

Unexpected doesn't mean wrong, though. A lot of people think unpredictable is the same thing as bad. But unpredictability swings both ways. Which is cool. I don't mind. 

Anyway, so it had been maybe a month since we'd buried Sam and probably two since we'd buried Lauren. None of us were doing very well, but we were breathing, so I guess you could say that's something.

I still think it's better than dying, at any rate.

We had finally moved into the summer months and it was sweltering. The air was thick and humid. Even Shane, who wouldn't break a sweat for me in the gym, was soaked, the collar of his t-shirt consistently a shade darker than the rest of the material. His beard would kill him when we couldn't find anything to take care of it.

Cassidy, in a spiteful fit against the elements had forced me to chop off her beautiful hair, leaving nothing but a little fluffy ponytail at the back of her head.

Jeans chafed but no one was stupid enough to want to wear shorts. Tank tops were the apparel of choice for just about everyone. It was bad enough that I couldn't even sleep next to Shane like I preferred.

Touching anyone else for an extended period of time was a miserable experience, made more miserable by the fact that I wanted to touch him. I wanted to let Vik lean up against me like she normally did when we were sitting around the fire at night, which had also been nixed in favor of tempting cooler night temperatures to bring some sort of relief, no matter how mild. But it was just too sticky.

The only thing that offered substantial relief was the air conditioner in Shane's truck, or the breeze whoever was sitting in the bed of the truck could enjoy. But we could only afford to have the truck running when we were moving in a purposeful direction.

Then there were the afternoon thunderstorms where even the rain was warm. Without warning, there would be a downpour, we'd get drenched and then it would pass, the heat sweeping back in to make us hot and sticky.

All in all, it sucked.

We'd just suffered through one of those rainstorms and were doing what we could to speed the drying process, something made all but impossible because of the humidity. We were outside of a larger town, not quite a city, but not a teeny village like we'd been more drawn to. We wanted someplace we could stay for a little while that had a way to keep us dry and maybe feed us for a few reliable days.

No one was exceptionally hopeful.

Wringing out my shirt, I looked up at Shane and said, "We're not splitting up."

Shane tilted his head in acknowledgement. Danny threw me a grateful glance, using one of our dry shirts to try and towel away the water beaded up on her arms. By now, we had learned beyond reproach that splitting up unless absolutely necessary or forced, was stupid.

You have to press pretty hard or things have to get pretty desperate for us to even let each other out of sight range anymore.

I shook my shirt out, looking at the wrinkled article with distaste. I could already feel how it would cling to me.

With a disgusted sigh, I chucked it into the bed of the truck, hoping the sun and the hot metal would bake it dry, then dug into one of the bags, extracting a tank top from the very bottom that had managed to stay dry.

Shaking it out, I found a Jurassic Park logo and made a face. Loved the movie franchise, but this was Cassidy's shirt. Not mine.

Frowning, I turned to her, holding it up. Cas, looking disgruntled, shrugged one shoulder up despondently and I tugged it on. It did nothing to held the already tacky texture of my skin, but at least it was dry.

Appearing to have surrendered for the time being, just accepting the fact that she was wet, hot and mad, Cassidy muttered, "Don't get blood on that, please."

Thoughtfully, Kyle said, "Wouldn't that make it more authentic, though?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. Not unless it's raptor-eaten-people blood."

"Just as long as no one steals any eggs," Shane muttered, looking less than amused.

"Isn't that from the third one?" I asked.

Shane blinked at me. "Does it matter?"

I shrugged, loath to shoulder the pack I was supposed to carry, already feeling how sweaty my back was going to get. "I suppose not, but I thought the first one was the best."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, but he just shook his head. Jerking his chin toward the town, he said, "Come on. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can rest."

He had Kyle and Danny lead the way, putting Sacha and Vik in the middle, followed by myself and Cassidy with himself bringing up the rear. Falling back a little, I whispered, "Shopping list?"

With a grimace, he said, "I'd like to find some ammo, but I'm not holding my breath. Beyond that I think water or, even better, something with sugar and salt in it would do us all some good."

I nodded enthusiastically at that, considering that just the other day, Sacha had suffered a mild fainting spell because his electrolytes were out of wack from all the sweating we'd been doing. Thankfully, we'd raided a restaurant a few days before that and Kyle had been smart enough to grab several of those little packets of salt they had.

I'd dumped a little into Sacha's palm and he'd eaten it without complaint, which just showed how bad it was since Sach doesn't particularly care for salty foods. After reviving him a little, I'd made everyone eat some of the salt and hoped to find some Gatorade or something similar.

He tugged at the strap on his shoulder and said, "Other than that, the usual stuff. Food, meds, band-aids."

I tried to smile at him, but like I said, things had been worn pretty thin between all of us. Shane scratched at the side of his jaw and I said, "Maybe we'll find some soap or shaving cream here."

"God, I hope so," he groused. "It's like walking around with a rug sewn onto my face."

This inspired a small laugh from Cassidy, which earned her a rude gesture from Shane. But we all fell dead silent as soon as the first house at the edge of town came into view. We stopped near one of the last cluster of trees and huddled up, waiting for Shane to dissect how he wanted to approach this.

With a sigh, he looked and said, "Let's hit everything on the side streets first. The middle of town will be the most dangerous if there is anything still here. If it looks like a place has already been entered, just leave it. It either means there's something still there or that it's been cleaned out. Not worth our time. We won't spend more than ten minutes going through a place, so make it quick and make it count."

We all nodded, divvying up who would go upstairs, who would go downstairs and who would go through the ground floor.

Working like a well oiled machine, we made quick work of the first few houses but with little satisfaction. As per freaking usual though, things got more interesting the deeper we got into town.

The fifth or sixth house had a number of zombies in it, in some pretty weird places. Shane, myself and Viktoria, who had elected to be the upstairs crew, had to deal with a zombie in each of the three rooms that were up there.

Then, Vik paused at the dull shuffling, thumping sound we heard from what looked like a hall closet. She frowned, and I motioned for her to position herself next to the door. Quietly, she placed her hand on the knob, then looked at me.

I glanced over my shoulder to find Shane hovering in a doorway, his gaze expectant and watchful. The blade of his knife tapped against his thigh, leaving little smudgy patches of blood on the dark material of the jeans he was wearing.

With a sigh, I bit at my lip before nodding at Viktoria, holding the hatchet I'd been using ready in front of me. I'd lost the machete in the scramble at the settlement and had yet to find a new one.

Vik twisted the knob, using the door as a shield as she opened it.

I raised the hatchet as the zombie came charging out, then straightened in surprise when it was jerked to a stop barely a foot  from me. I skittered back as it stretched out its arms toward me, shaking my head in bewilderment.

My eyes narrowed as I looked closer to find a length of rope wrapped around the zombie's neck. I heard Shane ask, "Did she hang herself?"

Standing on my tiptoes, I watched as the zombie struggled toward me, the rope cutting into the skin of its throat. Finally looking toward the closet, I frowned when it looked like the rope was anchored to the wall in some way. My frown turned into a grimace as I lunged forward, trapping the zombie's arm before sinking the hatchet into its skull.

I threw my hands up in disgust when the zombie collapsed, taking the hatchet with it. Once again, yanked right out of my hand, the blade stuck in the grey matter. With a breath heaved in through my nose, I looked toward the ceiling, then bent down to pry the hatchet out of the zombie's head.

Shane edged past me to inspect the closet and I muttered, "I miss my machete."

"When's your birthday?" he asked casually, making me raise an eyebrow at him. Keeping a remarkably straight face, he said, "I haven't missed our anniversary, have I?"

Vik snorted as she slipped into one of the rooms we had already cleared, starting to open closets and drawers.

"I don't even know when you proposed," I said, fighting a smile against his mock hurt look. I stepped over the body to join him at the doorway as he continued to examine where the rope around the zombie's neck had been anchored.

Someone had busted a hole through the drywall, tying the rope to one of the studs in the wall. I frowned, then looked up at him. He just shook his head, then bent down and kissed me. I made a small sound of surprise, caught off guard. It had been a bit of a dry spell between us, what with the heat and tragedy.

But I wasn't complaining as he put his hand on my neck, thumb skimming along the corner of my jaw. I rested my hands lightly on his waist, pleased when he drew the kiss out. When he finally did pull away though, he rested his forehead against mine and murmured, "We'll make it up. Happy anniversary. Thanks for not saying no."

A small laugh gusted out of me and I shook my head, fingers playing with the tags still hanging around my neck. I never took them off, even when the chain chafed a little at the back of my neck. I stood on my toes, pressing my mouth to his once more before pulling away and saying, "We've got five more minutes."

Shane nodded and disappeared into the middle room, leaving me with the last one at the far end of the hall. I cast one more frown at the closet and the body, but didn't have enough of a capacity to bother wondering about why exactly a zombie had been tied up in a closet.

As quickly and efficiently as I could, I went through the room, finding a bottle of aspirin in the drawer of the nightstand. I threw it in my pack, then got down on my stomach to peer under the bed. Unfortunately, I was greeted with a collection of what appeared to be the bones of a few small animals. Slightly weirded out, I hopped to my feet and beat a hasty retreat back to the hallway to find Shane had finished his search and was once again inspecting the closet.

Trying to avoid the slippery pool of blood spreading steadily across the floor, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He looked up from where he had been crouched down, staring hard at the floor. Waving his hand toward whatever had caught his attention, he said, "Do you see that line?"

I leaned over him, hand pressing into his shoulder to keep my balance, squinting against the partial darkness. After a moment, I say the line he was talking about, cutting neatly across the floorboards, perpendicular to the pattern in which the wood floor had been laid.

With a frown, Shane took his knife out of its sheath and dug the tip into the line, prying at it. I could feel the muscles in his shoulder working as he wiggled the blade farther and farther in.

Then, suddenly, it popped up, making Shane smack his knuckles into the floor. He swore and shook his hand out, then we both leaned forward to find a small hole had been cut into the floor boards.

Cautiously, Shane reached into the hole and I tensed, praying that nothing stupid like a spider bite would happen here. Certainly a product of too many horror movies, I half expected a hand to reach out of the hole and grab him.

A shocked breath gusted out of him, making me jump violently, but when I looked up, he was grinning. A slow smile spread over my face as he extracted first a gun, then three boxes of ammunition. Looking at the zombie again, I said, "That's a whole lot of protection for this little bit."

Then Shane reached back into the hole and pulled out three bottles which I snatched eagerly from his hands. Two kinds of antibiotics and a coagulant drug. Shaking my head, I clutched them to my chest.

I jumped again when Viktoria gasped right behind us and we both looked up at her. Shaking her head, she wordlessly held up a jar of peanut butter and I said, "Let's leave now."

Shane stood up. "Okay?"

I carefully packed the drugs into the deepest pocket of my backpack, snatching a folded pillowcase out of the top of the zombie closet to wrap them in so they wouldn't rattle too loudly. Starting down the stairs, I said, "We just found some amazing stuff. I don't want to tempt fate by sticking around too long. Someone might be coming back here."

"Raleigh, it's all abandoned," Kyle said, coming around a corner, scaring me. He jumped backwards right into Sacha as I snapped a leg out in a kick Shane had taught me. I grimaced apologetically and he scowled at me.

Shane showed his brother the ammo and gun he'd found, then told him about the pills. Nodding, I finished, "Guard dog zombie. Let's not assume someone wasn't planning on coming back and just get to the next house, okay?"

With a shrug, Kyle turned to the door, herding Sacha in front of him. We caught Danielle and Cas just as they were coming up the stairs and we all moved to the next house.

Unfortunately, aside from those few things, the most we found was some bottled water and two cans of beets.

We had cleared half the town by the time the sun was sinking and Shane eventually decided to stop in one of the houses still far enough away from the middle of the town to feel at least a little more secure.

We ate the beets hungrily, but not with gusto. The spoon of peanut butter we all indulged in was a different story and I sighed as I leaned against the wall, the painted surface pleasantly cool against my back. Shane grinned at me as I licked some peanut butter off my index finger and I rolled my eyes, shaking my head a little.

It had been a pretty good day, all things considered.

My stomach was no longer rebelling with growls loud enough that the others could hear it -- an unfortunate trait of mine that had caused year's worth of amusement for the others -- so even though I'd never loved beets, I could overlook it for now.

We had peanut butter, bullets and meds. What more could you possibly ask for?

I lay next to Shane, the covers shoved down to the end of the mattress, and thought the only thing that would make this near perfect was a shave for Shane, and a lower reading on the thermometer.

That was a good dose of the unexpected. Wish we had more of those.