I have risen from the dead!

So after my long sojourn into internet role playing and reducing my work hours at my job, I have found time to pump and fine tune this long in the works chapter. I promised more Clay and Carley interaction, and that is what you will get. There will also be an introduction of four OC characters, who will play a larger role later into the story as my plans begin to unfold.

Also worth noting is that I plan to go back and re-edit some of the previous chapters. A lot has changed with my writing skills since I started this Fanfic (which is way too long ago for how few updates I've had). It'll mostly be for dialogue, grammar and conciseness, but hopefully it will make the story an enjoyable read.

Also, here is my plug for my Halo/Mass Effect Crossover Last of an Ancient Breed, which is a largely standalone spin-off of DinoJake's terrific The Last Spartan fanfic. Feel free to check those out!

And I know I keep asking, but I would seriously love reviews of any kind. Part of the fun of writing is seeing what I do well and what I can do better, as it would be pointless to keep writing if I didn't try to become a better writer. So I would love feedback if you have any to give.

And now, let us follow Clay and Carley as they enter Macon once again, which may hold a few more surprises than they expected...

Macon looked exactly how Clay remembered it. Still abandoned, still empty, still boarded up and still partly destroyed. Not much had changed in a week other than becoming even quieter.

He tried to ignore desolation all around as he followed Carley. They hadn't been very chatty during their walk, likely because he talked her ear off the night before. However, they still made light conversation to fill the empty silence around them.

"So do you prepare your whole life for a mission?" Carley asked him.

"Kind of," he replied. "They encourage us early on to 'prepare for a mission,' but that usually means being a good boy or girl, reading your scriptures, being nice to others and saving a little money to support yourself."

"So you're not paid for missionary work?"

He shook his head. "It's all volunteer work. But yeah, when I got my call, I had to go to the 'mission training center' in Provo, Utah to get ready. And what did we learn about for those months? The exact same stuff I've been doing my whole life except for saving money."

"Could be worse, I suppose."

He shrugged. "I guess I'm making it sound worse than it was. Everyone's really friendly other than the hotshots who think they'll baptize an entire city in their first month. They all got sent to South America just so everyone else could do the hard work," he said jokingly.

He noticed that they were now walking through the pharmacy on Main Street as they spoke. Lee had asked them to give it a check and it wasn't like there were many options. Most of the town consisted of abandoned apartments, looted stores, an old retirement home, a ransacked police station and many other places with no food.

"South America?" Carley asked confused.

"Sorry, inside joke," Clay replied. "A lot of missionary work is…was happening in South America. People being baptized every week, or so all the stories made it feel like. Anyway, the MTC was fun. Nice people, good environment and all the cafeteria food we could shovel into our stomachs."

Carley chuckled with a smile. "I'd become a missionary right now if that were still the case."

Clay smiled. The idea of a fully stocked MTC cafeteria was certainly appealing. "Yeah! I'm sure they'd love to have you there. Granted, the food was only as good as whoever cooked that day made it. That didn't stop people from taking advantage of the no limit buffet line."

The pharmacy came into view as they rounded a corner. Clay could see Carley tense slightly, so he tried to keep telling his story. "I mean, there was this one missionary I knew in my group. Weirdest guy. Six foot five, huge muscles all over and a deep booming voice that shook the floor. Know what his name was?"

Carley drifted from some distracting thought back to him. "What?"

Clay smiled. "Elder Wimpy!"

That made Carley laugh, even if just a little. "Seriously?"

"Most seriously," he chuckled as he continued. "Man, that guy had an appetite. He used to get a whole tray of milkshakes as an appetizer and still went back for seconds. He said he wanted to keep his strength up for football when he got back, but we knew he just wanted to binge. I remember this one breakfast when he got into a competition with a Samoan missionary. Elder…something Polynesian was his name. Elder Wimpy claimed he could out eat anyone, so the Samoan challenged him to see who could clear their tray first. When they tied, the Samoan offered a new challenge. He got two oranges and offered who could eat it the fastest. Loser had to do the other Elder's laundry that week. So he-"

Clay then noticed Carley was not by his side anymore. He panicked and looked back to see she had stopped walking in the middle of that last sentence. She just stood there, staring sadly at the side of the pharmacy. The place was still destroyed like he remembered, with that same military jeep crashed through the main door, the helicopter crashed through the roof and a large semi truck smashed through the opposite wall. Yet her attention was focused on one area that was not nearly as destroyed.

Clay walked over and stood by her side. "Carley?" He asked concerned. "Carley…what's wrong?"

He then looked over to where she was staring. Dirt and rubble had covered a lot of the street, with a broken window nearby that had been broken into. However, pinned under some of the rubble, he saw a torn shred of a green shirt. Long since dried blood covered most of it.

It was then he remembered what Carley said about the night everyone was in the store. In particular, he remembered the person who had died that night when walkers pulled them out. Even without looking at Carley's eyes, he could tell she was replaying the scene in her head.

After another minute of silence, he put a hand on her shoulder, not breaking his stare from the scene in front of them. "I'm sorry. I really am."

Carley put her hand on his. "Thanks…" She sighed to calm herself down. "Sorry. I thought I'd be better than this. I just…didn't think I'd be back here so soon."

Clay nodded in understanding. He looked back to the jeep and truck, realizing that they would need to be a bit more creative to get inside. Plus, he didn't want to linger here. Seeing her upset was making him feel sader.

"We should keep going," he said.

Carley stood there for a few seconds longer before sliding her hand off his and slumped her shoulders. She took a long breath as she regained her composure. "Ok…I'm good"

They walked to the front of the pharmacy as he brainstormed a way inside. Given their options, there would be no easy way in. He then saw a ladder on the side of the truck leading to its roof: they might be able to find a back door or some kind of alternate entrance if they got up there.

"Think you can see if there's a way inside?" Clay asked as he pointed to the top of the truck.

Carley looked up and nodded. "Sure, no problem," she replied as she climbed up the ladder. It was pretty rusty and Clay could hear it creak with every step, but it supported her weight enough so she could reach the top. Once she was up, she looked over the edge to the opposite side.

"I think I found the back door," she said turning back to Clay.

He smiled. So there was a way in! "Okay," he said as he grabbed the ladder. "I'm coming up."

He lifted his foot to the first rung and tried climbing to the next…until he heard a loud creak and a snap! The ladder's hinges broke and it dropped with him still on it. He quickly planted his feet on the ground and held the ladder steady to keep it from making more noise.

"Clay!" Carley called out.

"I'm alright!" He replied still surprised. Well, now he had a totally broken ladder at his disposal. A lot of good that would do! He set it off to the side. "Crap…" he muttered to himself.

"I can just go inside myself," she said.

He shook his head. "No, we'll need both of us." He looked around. There had to be something tall enough to boost him up. Nothing was openly available though…

…until he looked back to the crashed jeep. On its grill, Clay noticed a winch with a hook at the end attached. The pharmacy's doors and other scattered objects covered the vehicle, but they could be cleared off. He thought it over carefully. As long as it wouldn't make much noise, that might be his way up!

"Wait here," he said to Carley as he approached the jeep.

"I don't have much of a choice," she replied.

He grabbed the hook on the front and gave it a tug. The winch's rope unspooled some with little difficulty. Good! This would be a snap! It reminded him of the time his cousin's truck got stuck in a ditch during a construction job. Thank God for technology!

He pulled the hook to the truck and spotted an axel by the back wheels.

"Well that's helpful!" Carley remarked impressed.

"Yeah," Clay said. "I'd say its divine providence at work."

"Let's hope so," she replied.

He attached the hook onto the axel and smiled to himself. Step one complete! As he walked back to the jeep, he heard Carley from behind him. "Who won by the way?"

He turned back as he reached the winch's controls by the passenger seat. "Huh?" He said back to her as he flipped the main switch.

"The orange contest," she replied. "I didn't mean to interrupt your story earlier."

He smiled. Partly because the winch worked and was pulling the jeep out from under the doors, but also because he was surprised she remembered that part. He followed beside the jeep as it was pulled to the truck.

"The Samoan won," he replied. "Ate the orange whole before Elder Wimpy could finish peeling. He told Elder Wimpy to get used to cleaning his sweaty socks, because the crushing stench of humility would be even worse on the mission field."

The two of them chuckled as the jeep came to a stop. He climbed on top of the jeep and rubbed his hands in anticipation. "Alright, here I come again," he said as he backed up a couple steps for momentum. Once he felt ready, he rushed and grabbed the edge of the truck. He then felt his hands slipping!

CRAP!

Before he could fall, he felt Carley grab his arms and struggle to hold him up. Clay used those spare seconds she gave him to shift his weight and plant his hands firmly on the edge. He pushed up and got to about his waist before Carley let go. After that, it was a simple act of swinging his legs over the edge. He sprawled onto his back and took a deep breath of relief. "Sorry," he said to her.

"Why?" She said with a smile. "You just proved I'm not as frail as I look."

He smiled as he got to his feet and dusted his pant off. They walked over to the opposite edge to see the back door right below them.

"Ladies first?" Carley joked to him.

"I think I'll go this time," he replied not sure if he missed a joke or not.

With that, he sat on the edge and slid onto the ground. The landing was a little firm, but he remained on his feet. He turned back and positioned himself under Carley. "Ok, come on down. I'll catch you."

"You do this often on your construction sites?" She asked as she sat on the edge.

"Gosh, I only wish," he muttered to himself.

With a light push, Carley slid off the truck and landed in Clay's arms like a fireman's rescue. She was a little heavier than he anticipated, but he didn't drop her. They lingered there for a moment and smiled, savoring this cute little scene. It made Clay awfully warm inside!

Carley then lowered herself from his arms and adjusted her hair. Clay could feel his cheeks getting red from blushing.

"Thanks," she said hiding her face to cover her own blushing.

Clay could feel happy little butterflies in his stomach as they walked to the back door. Carley, however, pulled out her pistol and put on her serious face. He attempted to do so as well, though it was harder to look serious without a weapon to contribute.

She grabbed the knob. "You ready?" She asked sternly. He gave a thumb up. "Alright…"

She opened the door quickly and scanned the area with her gun. It was the back room of the pharmacy, or so Clay could gather from the lack of actual store products. The windows were still boarded up, drenching the room in a shroud of darkness. He spotted a knocked over table and supply pallet, along with a television and personal items on the wall nearby, but no walkers!

Carley lowered her gun and motioned him inside. They kept a vigilant eye as he closed the door behind them. He couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary aside from some settling of the building's supports. There were two doors on the left side of the wall, one of which had blood streaks trailing from below it. She walked past that door and approached the further one, her pistol raised again. With Clay by her side, she slowly turned the knob.

A large body fell out as the door swung open and landed with a thud! The two of them jumped back as Carley pointed her gun, but she stopped just short of pulling the trigger. The body had been long dead. Blood smeared the door where its head had been smashed in. Must have been Lee or Kenny's work from a previous trip.

"Shit…" Carley exhaled relieved as she holstered her gun. "It's like a haunted house." She walked through the doorway and stopped a few feet further to kneel down. She gave a quick wave of her hand around a certain area ahead

"All clear," she said hushed. "We had an alarm trip last time. Can't be too cautious."

He could agree more with that!

As soon as he entered though, Carley put a hand to his shoulder and shoved him down. "Sssh!" She said quietly as she peeked over the counter. He did too and saw four walkers roaming the main area. One of them was dressed in army flight gear and a huge helmet. It must have been the helicopter's pilot.

"Think you can handle them?" She asked him.

He was confused until he realized she was asking if he could kill the walkers. For one thing, he wasn't sure he had the nerves to do it. He still had never taken down a walker before and yesterday still shook him up. Two…what was he supposed to take them down with? Carley's gun would make too much noise and he didn't have a weapon of his own.

He reluctantly shook his head.

She sighed. "Ok…what else?"

The two of them scanned the area quickly. The large supply shelves and medicine cabinets around them were decently full, but not with much that they could use against the walkers.

Well, except for something that caught Carley's attention. She stealthily moved to a cabinet and brought back a large glass jar. "How's your aim?" She asked handing it to him.

His eyes darted across the room as he mentally connected her plan. There was a large hole in the opposite wall that he could throw the jar out of and lure the walkers away. There was also a large bookshelf next to it that could block the hole off. They'd have to be patient and quick, but it was possible.

"Decent," he replied as he judged the distance to his aim.

"Better than mine," she said. "Think you can do it?"

"I'll try," he said as he stood up and cocked his arm back. He squinted his eyes to narrow his view. He had one shot, so he had to use it well. He took a deep breath and counted to three.

With a heave, he tossed the jar. It just barely missed hitting the edge of the hole, landing almost right where he aimed with a loud smash. The walkers were alerted to the noise and shuffled their way to the hole. He knelt back down, keeping his eyes focused to see what happened. Two of the walkers had some difficulty exiting, as they stumbled clumsily over the bottom of the hole. Nonetheless, all of the walkers made it out eventually.

"Alright, let's move," Carley said as they leapt over the counter and made their way to the bookshelf.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, they slid the bookshelf inch by inch to block the hole up. It took about a minute, but they eventually did so before the walkers were aware of what happened.

As they finished their last push, Carley sighed and wiped her brow. "Well, aren't we quite a team?"

Clay smiled in reply as he similarly wiped his brow. "Yeah…" He didn't know what else to add.

She took off her bag as she scanned the room. "Alright, we'll focus on food first, but we should take advantage of the medicine in the back room. That'll be pretty important in the long run."

He agreed as he removed the bags he was carrying. "Alright. Where should we start?"

"I'd say the backroom," she said as she walked to the counter. "We haven't hit that one as much." They hopped back over the counter and she opened some cabinets. "Go check the shelves first," she said.

Clay put his bags down in front of the nearest shelf. Most of the items there were just miscellaneous things: cold medicine, bandages, stitches, duct tape and all kinds of stuff. All had their uses of course, but, like Carley said, food should be the priority. He eventually found a few shelves with energy bars and emptied those.

"Have you ever killed a walker, Clay?" Carley asked curiously as they kept looting.

He paused in response. She must have figured that out pretty easily. Lying would do him no good here so he answered honestly as he continued looting. "No…I've barely fought them."

"How have you stayed alive for so long then?" She asked as she moved to a new cabinet.

He sighed. "Hiding…and stuff like what we just did. I used to be in a group before you guys and they did most of the killing. Other than that, I was just very lucky."

Carley leaned over to look at him. "I didn't know you were in another group."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. Guess he never mentioned that to her. "Yup…" He confessed. "We weren't a big group, but I was with them for…maybe a month or so. It was fine at first, but…you know."

"Disagreements?"

"Something like that…"

"Hope they didn't think you were dead weight for not killing walkers…" she attempted to joke. Unfortunately, that comment shut him up pretty abruptly. She wasn't wrong in that assumption…and she realized it too seeing his reaction. "Oh…"

Things were quiet for a minute as the awkwardness lingered. He could feel the old knife wound on his hand sting just thinking about the old group. He quietly resumed his looting, with her following suit.

After another minute, she spoke up again. "I can teach you how to shoot," she offered nicely. "We don't all need to be expert killers, but if you want to…the offer's there."

He thought over that as he zipped up a full bag and loaded the next one. "…sure," he said . "Just don't expect me to be a crack shot on my first go."

"I'd be shocked if you were," she replied as she emptied a cabinet. "Impressed, but shocked nonetheless."

He secretly hoped he could be a crack shot now!

After a few more minutes, the two of them had sufficiently filled their bags. Clay lifted two onto his shoulders while Carley carried the other.

"All set?" She asked him.

"I guess," he replied as he noticed the remaining supplies they couldn't fit.

"Don't worry, we'll come back for the rest," she reassured him with.

As they prepared to leave, she looked back to him. "Hey…sorry if I made things awkward back there."

He had hoped they would move past that, but he didn't want to be rude. "It's ok…really."

"You know you can talk about it whenever you feel like."

He sighed as they hopped the counter one more time and walked to the bookshelf. "How come you're so trusting of me?" He asked. For some reason, his insecurities were manifested from their chitchat earlier and caused him to become doubtful again. It was a bad habit he developed. "I've barely been here for a week and we're already talking about heavy stuff."

Carley stopped and sharply turned to him. "I'm not just doing that for my health, Clay." She didn't sound irritated as much as firmly reassuring. "I'd like to think I'm a decent judge of character and from what I've seen, you're someone I can trust to talk to on that level. And after everything yesterday…well, that's something only we can truly understand."

She moved closer to him. "I still remember everything we discussed last night and I think talking it out the way we did helped both of us a lot. With how shit the world is right now and how few of us are left, that's something I won't take for granted. So when I say you can talk to me about anything, I mean it. Ok?"

He listened intently as she talked. He felt she was serious, so he needed to stop worrying. "Ok…" he replied. "Thanks. And, uh, me for you too."

She smiled. "Good," she said as she gripped her side of the bookshelf "Now let's get going."

Clay grabbed his end and helped pull the bookshelf, still quiet from her little speech. He felt guilty for being so doubtful. He didn't mean to offend her. Maybe she wasn't offended. Still, it bugged him. He was a missionary for heaven's sake! He had to be better than that.

With a little more effort, the two of them pulled the bookshelf out of the way. The street outside was clear aside from the debris. Maybe the walkers found something else to occupy their attention. Either way, it should be an easy walk back to the motor inn. Which only made Clay more suspicious...

Carley exited out the hole first and raised her pistol to check the surrounding area. There were groans heard in the distance, but no immediate threats around them. The only freaky looking thing was the apartment building up ahead with all the windows busted out and a huge hole on the top floor wall. It must have taken a fair share of damage when the military tried to contain the threat.

Carley lowered her gun and led the two of them out. "Alright, looks like we're clear," she said as she adjusted her vest and looked back to Clay. "Think we got time for one more-?"

Before she could finish that thought, a large object fell from the hole in the apartment building and landed right behind her with a loud splat! She jumped and backed up to Clay with her pistol aimed. It was a walker! The fall hadn't killed, but Clay could see from the broken bones sticking out of its limbs that it wasn't going anywhere! It moaned weakly as it struggled to move its neck, black blood oozing from every open hole.

"Geez!" Clay exclaimed. They then heard a person's grunting mixed with walker snarls coming from inside the hole. Somebody was being attacked!

Carley looked back down to the walker and noticed something. "Clay, that's one of the walkers from the store," she said pointing to it. She was right. He remembered seeing that one when he threw the jar. So they had found something else to occupy their attention: another person.

She lowered her gun. She looked like she wanted to help the person being attacked but something was holding her back. It was the same thing that was holding Clay back. The last time they helped someone led to them being in their current predicament. Who knows what the person inside would be like? Then again, if they left them, it would mean they knowingly caused this person's death in more than one way.

She turned to Clay and took a deep breath, clearly deciding to make a choice. "We should help them."

"A…are you sure?" Clay asked nervously. It's not that he didn't feel the same way, but he was scared what the others might think if something bad happened.

"It's our fault they're being attacked," she defended. "Besides, there's only three of them now."

Clay tried to relax his nerves. Looks like they were doing this. Flashes of yesterday's events painted his vision, but he pushed them back. He had to remember what Lee said. If that was him in this person's shoes…

"Alright," he said still fighting back his fear. "Let's go."

He followed Carley as they bolted into the building and up the stairs. He knew this was foolish. Once again, he had never killed a walker and he had no weapon. He felt bad for relying on Carley for defense, but there wasn't much he could do. Maybe he should take Carley's offer for walker killing training more seriously. He didn't want to be dead weight again...

They reached the top of the final stairway to see that the door to the top floor had been closed. A loud yell was heard inside as glass broke and more fighting followed. The two of them checked to see if the other was ready. It was clear neither were completely ready, but they were here so there was no turning back.

"Watch your back," Carley said as she handed Clay the bag she was carrying.

He took it from her. "You too," he replied. He was feeling weighed down with his backpack and all these bags he was carrying, but he could bear it.

Carley raised her pistol up as she turned the doorknob.

Before they could enter though, the door burst open and two shapes crashed through. One was definitely a person holding a crowbar and the other was definitely a walker! They barreled into Carley, who lost her balance. Clay attempted to catch her, but the additional weight from falling knocked him off balance too! They all tumbled down the stairs to the lower floor as Clay's bags slipped off his shoulders and Carley's gun slid out of reach.

Clay landed on his back as they finished falling down. His body ached as his already wounded side was hit and dizziness clouded his vision. He lifted himself up to see if Carley was ok.

Right next to him was the dark blonde man who had been fighting the walker. He breathed sharply and winced as he held a large bruise on his head from the fall.

Behind them was Carley, who was not hurt enough to try and get back on her feet. However, before she could stand up, she was suddenly jerked backwards. She panicked as she saw the walker firmly gripping her legs. It refused to let go in spite of her kicks as it dragged her ankle to its open jaws! She reached for her gun, but it was too far away.

Clay's thoughts flashed back to the day before. The ugly sight of Newel and his yellow teeth. The absolute fear from the bandits' threats. The anger at the black eye Newel gave Carley. And her nearly being shot…He remembered the feeling of weakness watching all of that happen. How he wished he could have stopped all of this from ever happening…

Suddenly, things became a blur in his mind as his body ran on autopilot again. A surge of anger flowed through his veins at the thought of Carley being bitten and he wouldn't let that happen. His hand snatched the other man's crowbar as he ran towards the walker. Whatever he was about to do now, it was going to happen regardless of any second thoughts.

With a yell, he swung wildly at the walker's head and knocked it onto its side. The walker still gripped onto her legs, but now its head was fully exposed for attack!

Stomping a foot onto the walker's chest, he lifted the crowbar and slammed it into the thing's skull. Then he did it again! And again! And again! The walker gurgled and snarled as each swing splattered blood onto Clay's legs and Carley's vest. With one more strike, this time with both hands gripped, Clay hit its skull so hard that it cracked open and pierced the brain. The walker's hands released Carley's legs.

More snarling and moaning was heard as Clay saw the helicopter pilot walker reach out for him. He swung the crowbar and connected with the walker's helmet, but it merely stumbled a few steps before gaining balance again. He clenched his teeth and swung at its side, which did little other than agitate it. Deciding not to mess around anymore, he kicked the walker firmly in the chest, knocking it back onto the stairs.

The walker struggled to stand back up, but Clay was quicker to react. He stomped on the walker's neck to pin it and used his free hand to remove the helmet. The walker grabbed his ankle and tried to pull, but his leg was too strong to move.

With a little more effort, the helmet slid off and took a chunk of flesh from the walker's skull with it! It snarled at him with that cold, hungry look as it kept squirming. Clay gripped the crowbar with both hands, pointed the straight end downwards and lifted it over his head. With one swift plunge, he quickly lifted his foot off its neck and shoved the crowbar through its eye socket. The walker struggled at first, but as the crowbar punctured the brain it went completely limp. Blood seeped out through the eye and strained the crowbar black.

Clay breathed deeply as his heart continued beating a mile a second. He hadn't been this aggressive in a long time. Probably ever now that he thought of it. He thought about hurting people before, but nothing like what he just did. This was a part of him he had never experienced.

Which was reflected by the others' reaction.

"Goddamn..."

He turned to see the man on his feet and rubbing his head as he observed what remained of the first walker's head. Carley was still sitting on the ground, staring at him in shocked surprise. He realized then that he was still firmly gripping the crowbar embedded in the corpse's eye socket.

He retracted his hands quickly and took several steps back as his adrenaline subsided. He actually did it! He killed two walkers! He wasn't sure if he should be excited that he did it or scared that he did it so brutally. He could feel his hands and knees shudder from adrenaline withdrawal. Would Carley judge him differently from seeing him do this? His mind was playing worst-case scenario again! He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and counted to ten before things got worse.

One...

Two...

Three...

Four...

He felt his body relax. Good! Four appeared to be his lucky number lately.

He turned to Carley and offered a hand after taking another calming breath. "Are...are you alright?"

Carley was still stunned, but eventually reached out to him. "Guess you don't need those lessons after all," she said still in awe as he lifted her up to her feet.

He nervously rubbed his neck as he saw the bodies. "Yeah…I…I guess I-"

It was then he noticed that the bags had been unzipped from the fall, scattering food and medicine across the floor.

"Crud!" He said as he ran over and started putting items back in.

As he did that and Carley picked up her gun, the other man kicked one of the walkers out of spite before turning back to them. "Uh...thanks and all...but who the hell are you guys?"

Clay zipped up the bags and turned back. The man certainly looked like the survivor type. He was lean, had a full face of blonde scruff and a square jaw to make the scruff look intimidating instead of messy. He wore a blue t-shirt with a black jacket and slacks to match. Around his waist was a tool belt with various pouches full of whatever he was carrying. The guy was tall too, though probably close to Clay's height if they were to measure directly.

He noticed that the man was eyeing his bags too. Clay slung them over his shoulders to keep them out of the man's view.

"Uh...nobody..." He answered. "Just a couple of people looking for food."

"I can see that, boy," the man replied as he crossed his arms. He wasn't that much older than Clay to call him 'boy', but whatever! "Are you with the military?"

"Nope," Carley replied as she checked her ammo. "We're exactly what he said we were. Who are you?"

"The same," the man said. Well, they were nicely establishing trust! "Why did you guys come in here? There ain't any food in this building."

"We didn't know that," Carley said. "A walker fell out a window and spooked the hell out of us, so we figured we should help."

"Huh?" The man said before realizing what she meant and chuckled. "Oh yeah, that! Yeah, pretty good throw wasn't it? Did it kill the thing?"

"No," Clay replied.

"Shit..." He rubbed his face and sighed, trying to avoid the bruise his fall gave him. "Way too much work to fight these assholes hand to hand. I even rammed one of them into a television and it kept comin'."

As the man turned in the middle of talking, Clay spotted a pistol hidden behind his belt. This caught the man's attention and he looked down to the gun. "Oh yeah, that! I ran out of bullets when those things attacked me. That's what I was hoping to find up here. You know, in case someone kept a pistol in a drawer or something."

The man knew they weren't really buying his story, so he switched tracks. "Look, I got separated from my friends, ok? I'm serious. You're not the only guys trying to find food here. I mean, hell, where did you find that stuff anyway?"

"At another apartment," Carley quickly lied. "Someone had a closet that hadn't been completely tapped. This was all they had left."

"Damn..." The man said disappointed. Clay understood why Carley lied, but he felt bad about it. If they didn't need food for the bandits, he'd want to tell the guy about the pharmacy.

Before the man could say anything else, they heard someone downstairs.

"Marcus!" A woman's voice called out. "Marcus, are you there?"

The man-Marcus-smiled relieved. "Zoey!" He called back. "I'm up here."

Rushed footsteps echoed through the stairway as a woman entered the doorway. She was younger than Marcus, but most likely about Clay's age. She was slender, had light blonde hair and wore a red light winter coat that stood out like a sore thumb. She was certainly surprised to see Clay and Carley in the room, but she was happier to see Marcus was in one piece. She rushed past the other two and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank God," she said relieved. "We were getting worried. What took you so long?"

"Sorry to scare you, hon," he said as he ran a hand gently through her hair. She released the embrace and frowned as she spotted the bruise on his head. He noticed her concern and pointed to Clay. "I had a little problem, but these two lent me a hand."

Zoey turned back to them and smiled. "Thank you! Are you guys ok?"

Carley nodded, still surprised that the man's friend story wasn't a lie. "Yeah. We're good."

"Sweet," she said as she tugged at Marcus' arm. "Come on! Gabe and Armand are waiting for us."

"Alright, I'm comin'," he said as he raised an eyebrow at Clay and Carley. "Well, don't just stand there. I doubt any of us wants to stick around here!"

The two of them were hesitant at first, but it's not like they could say no. They were planning on leaving as soon as they could anyway. Or at least that was Clay's plan. After everything with the bandits, he wasn't quite comfortable being tangled up with another big unknown group.

During the walk to the main floor, Clay and Carley fell behind the other two as he whispered to her. "Should we trust them?"

"We don't have to," she whispered back. "We just need to find an opening and get back to the motor inn. The sooner the better."

Good, he thought to himself. Looks like they were on the same page!

They finally made it to the main floor door and Marcus reached for the knob. "Is it all clear?" He asked Zoey.

"Duh!" She answered back a little indignant. "I just came from here."

"Alright, alright," he replied back. "Just checking."

Apparently she hadn't checked that area recently enough, because as soon as he opened the door a walker was waiting right outside. It moaned as it spotted them and changed course to attack.

Before they could react, a loud thunk was heard. The walker jerked its head back before collapsing dead Embedded into its skull was a long knife!

Clay looked over Marcus' shoulder to see where the knife came from.

Standing at the main entrance of the building was a dark haired, clean-shaven man coming out of his throwing stance. He wore a large black trench coat over a nice dress shirt and suit. Inside the jacket, Clay caught a glimpse of more knives, a couple of pistols and a few other items stored in the inner pockets. He had a stoic cold stare on his face that didn't change a bit as the group exited the stairway.

"Good timing, Armand," Marcus said as he let Clay and Carley pass by him.

"It wouldn't be a problem if you didn't take so damn long," Armand said as he yanked his knife out of the walker with a clean pull and used its clothes to clean the blood off. "And who the hell are they?"

"Relax," Marcus said with a change in tone that started to worry Clay. "This will only take a moment." And that was the bad sign!

Before Carley and Clay could react, they turned to see Marcus pull out his pistol and point it at Carley. Clay then saw Armand similarly aim a pistol at his head, not wavering in his stoic stare but subtly pleased by the turn of events.

Zoey certainly wasn't though! "What?" She said worried and confused. "Marcus, why are you-?"

"Sorry, hon," he said to her without breaking his line of sight. "I promised you we'd find food and we did."

"By stealing it from them?"

"We're not going to find it anywhere else in this pisshole. And we're not starving again tonight," he said as he waved his pistol at Clay's bags. "I'd really prefer not getting nasty, so how about you make this easy and just drop the bags?"

"You bastard!" Carley said angrily to him. "We saved your life."

"And I'm very grateful, but gratitude won't stop the hunger pains," he said. "Now, drop your bags and no one gets hurt."

Clay was getting nervous now. He knew Carley needed him to have her back though, so he did his best. "You don't understand," Clay replied to Marcus as he moved to Carley's side. "We need to bring this back-"

"Shut up!" Armand shouted as he clicked his pistol's hammer. "Do what the man says or you die first!"

That shut Clay up quickly, but he didn't waver. He prayed again in his mind for some sort of intervention. The others at the motor inn were depending on them making it back.

Just then, an intervention happened!

"What de hell y'all doin'?" A new voice said from behind said.

Entering the doorway behind Armand, a man with shoulder length strawberry blonde hair walked in carrying a huge camping backpack. He was around Armand and Marcus' age, but the wrinkles and lines in his face made him look a lot older. Probably drinking damage or something similar. His apparel was not as nice as the others, as he wore baggy cargo pants and a Sisters of Mercy t-shirt. His accent was strange too, sounding almost southern but more likely Cajun. He carried a long barreled revolver on his belt as well.

"Stay out of this, Gabe," Marcus said.

"Ma eye!" Gabe said angrily. "It pretty clear dis involve me too!"

"Well then let's make THIS clear to you," Armand said not changing his focus. "We need food, they have food and we're taking their food. Now get back to the truck and let us work."

"Is dat what we bein' reduced to here?" Gabe argued as he set his backpack down. "Just petty thieves? Ah know we desperate but what to say dey en't too?"

"Gabe's right, hon," Zoey said to Marcus pleading. "We can talk this out-"

"Tell your bitch to shut up, Marcus!" Armand barked back at them.

Marcus pointed his gun at Armand. "I told you not to call her that, asshole!"

"You think you can actually shoot me?

"Oh, you'll wish I was just going to shoot you if you say that one more time!"

Clay and Carley looked to each other concerned. So not only were they being robbed, but the people robbing them weren't even getting along. That would make trying to escape a questionable prospect. They could slip out if the argument escalated, but what would guarantee that they wouldn't chase and shoot them during the process? Having a truck wouldn't help!

"Hey!" Marcus shouted at them to get their attention. "Look at us!"

"Yer freakin' dem out, Marcus!" Gabe said.

"You're going to be worse off if you don't shut up," Armand threatened. "We're keeping that sorry ass of yours alive, so how about you just step out of the way before we shoot you?"

"Yah, dat just dandy," Gabe said back. "Shoot de guy who found dis place to start with. Let see you navigate dem bloody maps like me. Ah bet you be leadin' dem into another monster nest in no time. And let remember ah be de guy who found de food we ran out of because you kept sneakin' extra bites for yourself! And de guy who-"

"Gabe, be quiet," Zoey interrupted nervously.

"No!" He snapped back. "Ah won't let you rob dem! We betta than dis! Dese people might have families dat dey worked too hard-"

Armand turned and pointed the barrel of the gun at Gabe's forehead. "I'm going to count to ten and if you're not back in the truck, I'm going to blow your brains out!"

This was not the intervention Clay was hoping for. Something bad was going to happen unless he or Carley did something quickly. He could see Carley was thinking the same thing.

"What do we do?" She whispered to him.

"Go ahead. Do it, Armand. Shoot me dead and see how yah sorry chew survive without me!" Gabe shouted. "Ah EN'T gunna play house and sit in that patrack while you screw dem over."

"I dunno…" Clay said to Carley as he scrambled to think of a solution.

"One!" Armand counted.

"Stop it!" Zoey panicked.

"He not gonna do it," Gabe attempted to reassure.

"Two!"

"You know he will!" Zoey said.

"Den we betta find a solution!"

"Three!"

"Gabe, stop being an asshole!" Marcus shouted back.

"Four!"

"Ah open to suggestion!" Gabe replied to Marcus. "We not gunna to rob dem, so what plan B?"

Clay thought harder now. There had to be something they could do to stop this from getting ugly. He thought about where there might be food. He knew Carley wanted to avoid saying the pharmacy, but it was a viable choice if they had no other options.

"Five!" Armand kept counting.

"Yah, just shoot me! Ya gunna regret it when ah gone!" Gabe taunted.

"Six!"

Clay made a mental checklist of places he visited in Macon last time he came. The apartments were probably picked clean. The gas station and grocery stores were certainly emptied long before that. He didn't know what food they'd find in the auto shop, police station or the home improvement place.

"Seven!"

"Gabe, that's enough!" Marcus shouted.

There was only one place Clay could think of. It was going to be a gamble, but he had to try it.

"Eig-"

"The retirement home!" Clay blurted out.

Everyone's eyes, including Carley's, fell on him as Armand stopped counting. Clay wasn't sure what would happen next.

"What?" Marcus said confused.

Clay gulped as he continued. "There's a retirement home at the edge of the town. They have food there!"

Armand pointed his gun back again at Clay. "Why the hell would they still have food in there?" He asked pointedly.

Clay attempted to remain calm in spite of Armand's stoic stare giving him the chills. "E-exactly. That's…that's what everyone would ask. 'Why would the retirement home still have food?' Nobody thinks about looting a place full of old people, right?"

Armand didn't react. Clay decided he was too creepy to stare at any longer, so he looked back to Marcus. "I was here before everything happened. We visited the home to meet someone and got to tour the building. They have a full kitchen and a separate storage room where they keep their non-perishable and canned foods. It wouldn't seem like much, but if that stuff can keep like I think it does, then there should be enough to last you guys for a while."

Carley appeared more confident in Clay's thinking and joined in. "We passed by the building half an hour ago. It doesn't look like anyone's been there in months. You can take whatever you need."

Marcus mulled this over as Zoey looked to him anxiously. Armand showed the slightest sign of curiosity as Gabe smiled to himself thinking his bluff paid off. Clay and Carley just stood there nervously waiting for their fate to be decided.

After ten more seconds, Marcus lowered his gun. Clay sighed in relief.

"You seriously don't believe them," Armand asked annoyed.

"Not completely," Marcus said. "But they seem pretty sure about it." He walked up to Clay. "So here's the deal. You guys take us there so we know your story isn't bullshit. If it goes all hunky dory, we'll get our food and you can keep your little stash. Sound good?"

Carley and Clay didn't answer immediately. They figured this would just be a short trip in and out of town, but it looks like they weren't leaving any time soon.

"We'll just shoot you and take your food otherwise," Marcus added.

Carley rolled her eyes "Well, given those options, I guess we're taking you there."

"Alright," Marcus said as he holstered his gun. "Looks like its applesauce and saltines for dinner tonight." Everyone else appeared to be on board with the plan.

Well…except for one.

"Where de hell you goin',?" Gabe said as Armand walked out the door.

"I'm taking the truck. I can scout the place before you get there. Plus, the walk might help relieve the hot air in your gumbo cooked brain," he said to Gabe before rounding the corner and driving the truck off.

After a few moments of silence, Carley chimed in. "Is he usually an asshole or is it just today?"

"He just vary hungry," Gabe said apologetically. "We all is, right?" He added looking to Marcus and Zoey.

"Yeah," Zoey said. "Sorry about that. So, you know the way there?"

"I think so," Clay added. "It's not a long walk, but it'll take a while."

"Well, it's not like we got a busy schedule to keep," Marcus said as he walked to the door and motioned them to exit. "Lead the way."

Clay thought of one last silent prayer for comfort as He and Carley exited the building. Here he was again helping people against his will. He didn't really know if they were truly irritable from hunger or planning to kill them, but he was in this either way.

Carley walked by his side as the others followed behind. "Thanks by the way," she whispered gratefully. "You've saved my life way too many times lately."

Clay smiled sheepishly. "Well..who knows? Maybe you'll return the favor," he whispered back. He kind of hoped that wouldn't be true. They shouldn't have to put their life jeopardy this often in one week. Then again, how much trouble could a retirement home be…?

Seems like Clay is prone to being led by the nose by one group or another. Nice to see him developing a spine though. There is an arc planned for him and it'll be exciting to see how he develops as more happens to him...which I do not intend on elaborating just yet.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter and anything else on your mind. Are you excited for Season 2 to come out? I know I am!

So the next chapter is in the works. What kind of trouble could they get into in a retirement home? Well, let's find out...