The following morning, everyone was cautious when they emerged from the house. It wasn't for lack of sleep but nerves that had them on edge. As Morgan had said the previous night, more walkers were around than usual. It was a risk, taking Rick out to show him how to deal with the things. It was a risk, going to his house to hunt for clues. It was a risk, just stepping out onto the porch but it was a risk they were going to have to take. The adults all had a weapon in hand; no guns were out but both Morgan and Annie had theirs just in case. Morgan had a crowbar and Rick borrowing the boy's bat while Annie kept her big hunting knife. Strapped across her back was her pack. She never left the house without, Morgan explained. They watched and waited as Rick hesitantly approached a walker on the lawn, sitting lethargically against the fence. As soon as the monster saw them coming, it heaved itself up and lurched to its feet but Rick was faster. Without pause, he hauled off and split its skull with a few brutal strokes of the bat. The walker collapsed, feet twitching until finally going still. Rick was breathing hard, pausing to see how he felt about what he'd just done.

"You okay?" Annie asked, a hand on his shoulder.

Rick nodded slowly and quietly told her, "I don't feel a thing."

"Yeah, that's to be expected." He looked at her and she shrugged helplessly. "If you don't kill them, they'll kill you. Just think of it as self-defense. Or justifiable homicide, Sheriff." Chuckling under his breath, Rick nodded and the group moved down the street and Morgan informed him on some more basics. Like how if the walkers couldn't find a fresh kill, they'd just eat one of their own, the weaker ones. As they approached Rick's block, he pointed out his house and asked if they'd seen anybody there.

"Area was pretty deserted by the time we got here. Saw a few folks scurry out, a few last holdouts. But not that house," Morgan told him. Rick let that sit for a moment before leading the way into his home, stopping to search around at the wreckage that used to be his home.

"They're alive. My wife and son," Rick announced, rejoining them downstairs. "At least they were when they left..."

"How can you know? By the look of this place..." Morgan looked around doubtfully.

"I found empty drawers in the bedroom. They packed some clothes. Not a lot, but enough to travel." Morgan hesitated a moment before telling him as gently as possible that anyone could have broken in and stolen clothes. Rick gazed at the walls, shaking his head. "See the framed photos on the walls?" Morgan and Annie looked at the walls but saw nothing. "Neither do I. Some random thief take those too, you think?" Rick abruptly crossed to a cabinet, rummaging wildly. "Our photo albums, family pictures, all gone." Annie looked around and spotted one framed picture left behind, knocked over. Picking it up, she turned it over and saw it was a family portrait, Rick was smiling beside a dark haired woman and little boy that looked about Duane's age standing in front of them. She couldn't explain why but, as she stared at it, she frowned a little. Maybe it was because he wasn't wearing a wedding ring. If he was really married, where was his ring?

"Photo albums..." Morgan shook his head in wonder, sinking onto the arm of the couch and laughed. "My wife, same thing. There I am packing survival gear, she's grabbing photo albums." He laughed until he cried, wiping his tears away when Duane appeared in the doorway.

"I did the same," Annie confessed. "Only had one picture that mattered but it was the first thing I grabbed."

"They're in Atlanta, I bet." Morgan considered this moment and nodded, telling his son he was right.

"If they got out of here okay, they're in Atlanta," Annie tried to assure him.

"Why there?"

"Refugee center," Annie answered, putting the picture back, face down. "A huge one, they said, before the broadcasts stopped. Military protection, food, shelter. They told people to go there, said it'd be safest."

"Plus they got that disease place," Duane added and Morgan told Rick that that Center for Disease for Control had said they'd been working on a cure. Rick absorbed all this, feeling hope stirring in him for the first time since he woke up. He walked into the kitchen and opened a cabinet, pulling a set of keys off a hook.

"We need to make one more stop," he told them.

--------------------

At the police station, Rick unlocked the back door and led them inside. All of them were carrying a flashlight and had a weapon in hand, Annie bringing up the rear with Duane in front of her. Once they were all in, Annie closed and bolted it behind them. Better safe than sorry, especially if walkers could use a door and, if the late Jenny Jones was any indication, they could. The place was completely deserted, messy but not trashed. Some vending machines were broken open, snacks inside scattered on the floor. On the counter, there was a molding pot of coffee, a tray of fossilized donuts. Annie had the urge to crack a cop joke but kept silent, following as they made their way through the hall past empty offices and silent cubicles. Where was Rick leading them?

"Back there," he said with a nod. They entered the locker room, rows of lockers, several shower stalls. Rick approached one of the stalls and turned the handle, listening to the groaning of the pipes. It took a moment but water came out and he put his hand under it, testing it. Morgan shook his head and told him that the gas lines had been down for maybe a month. Rick just turned to them, smiling. "Station's got it's own propane system. Pilot's still on." Hot water? Annie laughed as Duane immediately rushed to one and started stripping down.

"I'll wait till you guys finish," she said and wandered back into the hallway.

"There's a woman's locker room. I can show you—"

"I'll just wait. Best for at least one of us to be on watch," she told him. Rick nodded and went back inside.

From her place in the hall, she could hear the water running and hear the joyful hollering from Morgan and Duane. For the first time in a long time, she really smiled. Nothing sardonic or sarcastic, not a small or weak one, but a real big, full smile. Putting her hands to her face, she smothered down her laughter. This place was just too good to be true! As soon as the men were out, Annie noting Rick's freshly shaven face, she rushed in. She could hear Morgan laughing behind her, but she didn't care. She started her shower on full-blast, steam billowing. She lathered and shampooed like crazy, laughing and crying all at once under the steady stream of water. Annie couldn't help but let out a joyous yelp, laughing and just letting the hot water run over her.

She walked into the gun cage later, dressed in fresh clothes she found in a random locker. Rick, who was back in his uniform, looked up at her and nodded as he pulled out some shotguns and a few side arms. Nothing fancy, just leftovers. A lot of it was missing, he told them, as he passed them to Morgan who laid them out on a blanket. Duane wanted to know if he could learn to shoot, reasoning that he was old enough, and his father assured him he'd learn but carefully, to respect the weapon. Rick told him that a gun was not a toy that, if he pulled the trigger, he had to mean it, to always remember that. When Rick found a bolt-action rifle with a scope, he handed it to Morgan. Though Duane was busy eying the guns, Annie didn't miss the moment of eye contact. It was weapon chosen specifically for Morgan's wife, so he could finally put her to rest at a distance. Annie admired the officer all the more in that moment. She'd been lucky, she knew, in finding Morgan, a good man who helped her when he didn't have to. It seemed there were others like him.

There were still good men left in the world.

--------------------

"Conserve your ammo. Goes faster than you think, especially at target practice," Rick told them as they headed towards the cars. Each of them was toting a blanket of weapons. "Find yourself a nice open field where they can't sneak up on you." They came to a dirty Ford Explorer parked near a few police cruisers, one of which Rick unlocked and laid his duffel of weapons in. At the Explorer, Duane was doing the same thing under his father's orders. "Sure you won't come along?"

"A few more days. By then, Duane'll know how to shoot and I won't be so rusty. Improves our chances on the road." Rick thought a moment before ducking into the car, pulling out a walkie-talkie. He turned it on a moment, getting a healthy dose of static, before turning it off and handing it to Morgan.

"You got one battery. I'll turn mine on a few minutes every day at dawn. You get up there? That's how you find me."

"You think ahead," Morgan commented.

"Can't afford not to. Not anymore."

"Listen, one thing. They may not seem like much, one at a time, but in a group? All riled up and hungry? Man, you watch your ass."

"You, too."

Offering his hand, Morgan said, "You're a good man, Rick. I hope you find your wife and son." They shook and Duane said he goodbyes as well, promising to take care of his father, when his gaze shifted suddenly. All of them looked and saw a walker on the other side of the chain link fence, watching them. It approached and stopped at the fence, clinging to it, fingers poking through, starting to shake it and moaning. Sickened, Rick unholstered his gun, telling them it was Leon Basset, a rookie he didn't think much of because he was careless and dumb.

"I can't leave him like this," he told them.

"They'll hear the shot," Morgan warned him.

"Let's not be here when they show up." Morgan nodded and backed off as Rick took a breath and quickly, before he could change his mind, strode to the fence. He pressed the gun through the chain link, prepared to fire when Annie pulled him back. Without a word, she pulled out her knife and jammed it through Leon's eye, straight into his brain, and pulled it back as he crumpled to the ground. The men stared at her.

"You just said don't waste ammo," she pointed out. Chuckling under his breath, Rick nodded and, with nothing more to say, the men headed to their separate cars.

"Annie?" Duane called, waiting for her to join him and his father. She stood frozen, staring at Rick, before sighing.

"I'm going with you," she told him and he looked at a moment, eyes locked, before nodding. He turned his attention back to the car, allowing her a moment with Morgan and Duane. "I can't thank you enough for—"

"Don't start that," Morgan interjected with a small smile. He held out his hand and she took it, shaking it firmly. "Don't die," he advised.

Cracking a smile, she replied, "You, too." Duane, however, was frowning when she turned her attention to him. "You protect your old man now, you hear? Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah," he answered quietly. "Will we see you again?"

Sighing, she pulled him into a tight hug. "I don't know."

"I'm gonna miss you, Annie."

"I'm gonna miss you, too, Duane." And she really would. Annie had never been one for kids but Duane had been a package deal with Morgan. He was a great kid. Respectful and kindhearted, just too sweet for the world being the way it was. Annie gripped him tighter, willing herself not to cry. "You stay safe, okay? Stay sharp."

"I will."

She rocked him a moment, feeling his tiny fingers dig into her waist, before pulling back. Letting out a heavy breath, she held his face in her hands and smiled. Duane smiled back, trying not to cry. Feeling a hand squeezing her shoulder, Annie looked up and saw Morgan. Annie hugged him tight and whispered that she'd see him soon. Pulling away, she marched over to the cruiser and stowed her pack in the back with the duffel. Sliding silently into the passenger seat, she nodded at Rick. With a final wave from Duane and a honk of both cars, they were on their way. They drove in silence, Annie staring out at the suburbs and Rick at the road until he pulled over at the park. She asked what he was doing but he just told her to wait for him. She watched as Rick walked under the sun-dappled leaves, searching for something. He'd only been gone a few minutes when she heard the gunshot ring out and jumped out of the cruiser. Grabbing her knife, she rushed into the park intent of finding Rick, making sure he was safe, alive.

When she finally found him, she questioned, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just something I had to take care of," he answered and headed back to the cruiser without another word. Confused, she followed him and they went back to traveling up the highway, Rick speaking into his radio, waiting for a response. But nothing came. Just static.