𝙂𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙁 - 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑾𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒅

Three

Meanwhile, at a second campfire, Ed had put on another log. The light flared up and glew in the night.

Shane walked over. "Hey, Ed, you want to rethink that log?"

"It's cold, man."

"The cold don't change the rules, does it? Keep our fires low, just embers so we can't be seen from a distance, right?"

"I said it's cold. You should mind your own business for once." Ed angrily said.

"Hey, Ed . . . are you sure you want to have his conversation, man?" Shane softly asked.

"Go on. Pull the damn thing out. Go on!" Ed challenged.

Before Glenn could tell her to stand down, Camila promptly got up and started walking over. "Ed, can we not do this right now . . . or like, ever?" She put one hand on her hip.

"Pull the damn thing out, go on!"

"You see, now we both look stupid because you're repeating yourself."

"I said pull the thing out, bitch!"

Camila's annoyed, tired expression turned into an angry, offended one. "I'm not a bitch! You're the one who—"

An argument broke out and Ed lunged a bit as Shane pulled a shocked Camila back by the arm. "Stay down." He whispered to her. Ed's wife quickly got up, went around and took the log out of the fire before sitting back down. "Christ." Shane muttered as he used his foot to put out the flaming log.

Besides the woman and Ed was a young girl, about twelve-years-old. Shane squatted at the campfire. "Hey, Carol, Sophia. How are y'all this evening?" He asked them.

"Fine." The mother, Carol, replied. "We're just fine."

"Okay."

"I'm sorry about the fire."

"No no no. No apology needed." Shane then smiled at Sophia.

"Y'all have a good night, okay?"

"Thank you."

Shane then got up. "I appreciate the cooperation." He sat back down at the first campsite with a sigh.

"Have you given any thought to Daryl Dixon?" Dale asked.

Camila sighed, leaning forward. "Shit, I thought about it earlier, he's not gonna be very forgiving."

"I'll tell him." T-Dog spoke. "I dropped the key. It's on me."

"I cuffed him. That makes it mine." Rick replied.

"Guys, it's not a competition." Glenn nervously spoke. "I don't mean to bring race into this, but it might sound better coming from a white guy."

"I did what I did. Hell if I'm gonna hide from him." T-Dog added.

"We could lie." Amy suggested.

"Or tell the truth." Andrea shrugged. "Merle was out of control. Something had to be done or he'd have gotten us killed." She turned to Lori. "Your husband did what was necessary. And if Merle got left behind, it is nobody's fault but Merle's."

"And that's what we tell Daryl?" Dale asked. "I don't see a rational discussion to be had from that, do you? Word to the wise — we're gonna have our hands full when he gets back from his hunt."

"I was scared and I ran. I'm not ashamed of it." T-Dog said.

"We were all scared. We all ran. What's your point?" Andrea asked.

"I stopped long enough to chain that door. Staircase is narrow. Maybe half a dozen geeks can squeeze against it at any one time. It's not enough to break through that. Not that chain, not that padlock. My point — Dixon's alive and he's still up there, handcuffed on that roof. That's on us." T-Dog got up and left.