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“Is that inning looks like to you?” It’s an honest question I never have any idea what he’s thinking, not since the night we met, back on a farm in North Carolina Not even when he saves my life—repeatedly

He narrows his eyes, like he’s truly assessing me, and I wait for the reply For some reason I alant to kno his brain works, why he does the things he does Instead of an answer, he clenches his jaw and looks toward our vehicle Walker, the leader of our un

“We should go, Alex,” he says “We’re losing daylight”

He walks off, leaving me in the street, surrounded by bodies

I exhale and follow hi how lucky we are to live another day in the apocalypse

“Dead”

“Hiding”

“Negative Dead”

“They’re educated They’re sic It’s the only thing that keeps ht now

Wyatt glares at me “Then infected”

I glance out theat the house Two stories, but modest Built in the ‘70s or ‘80s The three Volvos with bues where they or their children all went Yes, ‘went’ They certainly no longer go

I sigh “Fine Infected”