Both Roy and I froze in our crouched position.

"Hello? Wyatt, that you?" the radio asked.

Before I could grab his arm, Roy ran to the radio. He scooped up the receiver and hit the button.

"Yes, we're here. Hello?"

"Wyatt? That don't sound like you."

I knocked the microphone out of Roy's grip like I was swatting an insolent child's hand.

"Roy! Now Wyatt's going to know," I hissed as I flicked the toggle switch to off.

All the equipment went dead.

"How else am I going to find Irene?"

"With these ID numbers," I pointed to the scribbler.

Carefully, I ripped out a blank page and copied down all the numbers.

"Tim's trucker radio is only going to pick up the frequencies at a closer range," Roy said.

"Bring it tomorrow and try it when we're back on the road. Maybe we'll be able to narrow down the location. Or we can try to find one of those extender things," I suggested.

Roy stared at Wyatt's equipment wistfully.

"Alright."

I was glad he could see reason this time. Last time he let his emotions get the better of him, he killed our only lead. I passed him my copied sheet and he shoved it in his pocket.

"We need to make this look like we were never here," I said.

Roy nodded and got to work turning all the dials back to their original position while I went back to the closet to pack up the trunk of horrors. After, we took a few steps back and examined the place. In my eyes, it looked like everything was where it was when we entered, so we relocked the door and went back out the window. Roy put the screen back in place and closed the window.

"Find anythin'?" John asked.

"Oh yeah, but we need to head back to the memorial," I said.

"I'll meet you guys there. I gotta put away my tools first," Roy said as he held up the bag.

We all split up. John and I entered back together instantly being bombarded by Zoe.

"You feeling better?" she asked.

"A bit. How long do you think this will go?"

"Just 'bout another hour I'd say," John answered.

I stifled a groan; that would be considered rude at a memorial. John gently ushered me to an empty table.

"So what did you find?"

"We think we found the frequency for the mercenaries," I whispered. "And I found a trunk full of bloody female clothes and a knife that had been used."

John sat back in the chair. He rubbed his hand along his jaw, and then winced when he hit a bruise.

"You think Wyatt did it?"

"I have no idea. It's either that or he's hiding the evidence for one of his cronies," I sighed.

I had no proof, just some circumstantial evidence. Either way, this place wasn't safe.

"We still headin' out tomorrow for that other group?"

"Yes."

Although I wasn't sure I should bring them into this place knowing full well there was a killer on the loose. Maybe once we got them, we could all form a new safe haven somewhere. But where would we go? And I'd have a hell of a time trying to convince Ethan to leave. Hargrove was already setup and working, minus the murders of course.

Clearly Wyatt was crooked along with his crew; they needed to go. Why were the others in the town not outraged and suspicious of Wyatt? Were they that afraid of outside these walls that they would put up with a murderer and corrupt leadership?

"What do you think we should do with this information?" I asked John.

"There's no police to go runnin' to, so I say don't do anythin' rash. We need more proof first."

"Aside from catching whoever it is in the act, how are we going to do that?"

"Killers tend to keep goin' 'till they're caught. Chances are, they'll be doin' it again."

"And this helps us how?" I asked, very concerned with John's point.

"We can form some kind of watch."

"That's going to be hard with just the few of us. Plus, what if someone from Hargrove sees us?"

John readjusted his hat, "I honestly don't know what to do, Bailey. Other than leavin' this place."

It was a tough call, but I think that was our only option. The question was, would they let us leave?

The memorial wound down and we all headed back to our condos with the promise that a nightly street patrol would start tonight. Roy made sure to ask Zoe to watch over Amanda tomorrow while we were gone.

"Get some sleep, it's going to be a long day tomorrow," Roy said as we each retired to our bedrooms.

I tried to fall asleep, but ended up tossing and turning for most of the night. Nowhere was safe. Maybe I should just pack up a car and try to head back home. It would be a long journey, but worth it if I got to see my family again. What if they were gone? What would I do with myself then? What about my new "family"? I was floundering again.

My eyes had a hard time opening when morning came. Roy had to knock on my door to wake me up.

"I made some instant coffee," he yelled through the door.

My body begged me to roll over and get back to sleep, but grudgingly I got myself out from under the covers. After a quick shower and two cups of coffee, our group was standing around the Mazda. Roy had packed food and the trucker radio and I made him bring my old handgun. John had borrowed an assault rifle and extra ammo for our trip. I made sure my Beretta was fully loaded along with the extra magazine, and that I had my trusty axe in the back. Roy was hugging his daughter goodbye, clearly reluctant to leave her.

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" Ethan asked.

John was currently holding our old map, "We should be back by the end of the day."

"You sure you don't need another body?" Darren asked again.

"No, three will be enough, son," John said. "We need all the room we can get."

"Roy did say they have a big truck and an airport shuttle van for transport," I mentioned.

"They did when you left 'em, who knows now."

"Then what's the difference of one person? I can go instead of Roy," Darren hefted his thumb at the sad goodbye scene.

"Roy needs to go," I blurted out. Crap.

"Why?" Darren asked suspiciously.

"I know the way," Roy said before I could further insert my foot into my mouth.

Darren huffed, but didn't press it any further. He knew how directionally challenged I was.

"Alright, daylight is burin' folks, let's go." John held his hands out for the keys.

For the first time in over a week, I sat in the passenger seat. Roy piled into the back and we drove to the front gate. The others followed to wave us off as the heavy iron gate opened wide for us. I looked in the side mirror to see the faces of our friends' fade behind the gate as it closed with us on the outside. John didn't need any directions read to him to get out of the city. He knew where Gretna was from memory and studying the map before we left. It was nice to sit back and leave it up to someone else. It was almost a relaxing drive until be hit our first patch of infected. John climbed the sidewalk to avoid them, the Mazda's suspension groaning.

"You think that's wise?" I asked.

"Why do you think I picked this car? It can handle quite a bit," John scoffed.

I shut up after that. Like hell I was going to be the back seat driver in this scenario. We didn't head back to John's shop because technically that would be backtracking. John knew a quicker way to head directly south out of the city. According to John, some people had cleared a lane along one of the main bridges over the Mississippi River, so that's where we were heading.

"How do you know?" Roy asked.

"Grant-," I noticed John said his name in a clipped voice now, "-mentioned that another group he knew of cleared it 'bout a month after everythin' went to hell. He claimed to have used it before."

"So he wasn't always with Hargrove then?" I mused out loud.

"I don't think so," John guessed.

Maybe that other group Grant mentioned happened to be the mercenaries. We continued playing chicken with all the infected. I had to hand it to John; he knew how to maneuver this car pretty well. It wasn't until we got to the bridge that we had to stop.

John had been right about one of the lanes being cleared of cars, but now there was lane full of infected. He pulled out his bag from the back handing me a black tube.

"Here's a suppresser that will fit the Beretta."

"It doesn't match the color," I joked and John gave me a look telling me now wasn't the time for jokes. I felt like he gave me that look a lot.

"You and Roy need to take 'em out before I can get through," John commanded.

"I'll take the axe," Roy said.

We got out of the car, facing down the long rode filled with shambling bodies.

"Well, you ready?" I asked Roy.

"No," he deadpanned.

"Too bad." I raised my gun and shot the nearest infected.

The body twirled to the side and fell over the railing landing in the water with a splash. This grabbed the attention of the others. I started walking with my Beretta at eye level, my sights landing on the various targets. One infected popped out from the spot between two cars in the lane beside us. Roy whirled the axe towards it, chopping at the infected like it was a tree.

The thing gurgled as Roy knocked it to the ground, hitting the hood of one of the cars in the process. Now the rest moved towards us even faster. Thanks a lot Roy. He raised the axe again and split the infected's head open like a watermelon.

We kept moving towards the group, John right behind us in the car. Seems like he had the easy job. Once they were in range, I shot the infected although I missed a few times, hitting shoulders instead of heads. As we walked on, we kicked the dead bodies to the side to allow the car to pass through unimpeded.

I jumped in fright as one of the infected I kicked wasn't quite dead. Its hand groped at my leg and I flew backwards right into Roy.

"What the-?" Roy said as we stumbled back.

I pointed to the squirming infected stuck under the fallen body of one of its friends. Roy raised the axe and caved it's skull in. Another infected took our distraction as a perfect time to jump out from behind a delivery van. I whirled around with my gun and shot, the bullet going way off course. I heard the distinct whistling of air being released out of a tire and watched the van sink on its back, left tire. This distracted the infected long enough for me to try again.

Its brains splattered all over the logo painted on the side of the van when I actually hit it this time. The smiling photo of a family peeked out from underneath the carnage and I felt a pang of guilt for some reason.

It took a while, but we were finally able to get to the other side of the bridge. I had to reload my Beretta once about halfway through with the extra clip.

"You use up all your ammo?" John asked as we got in the car.

"About a magazine and a half," I said.

"Roy, can you pass her my bag?" John asked.

Roy handed me the heavy duffle bag and rummaged around for extra 9mm bullets. If John was offering, I'd rather use Hargrove's supply than my own. I loaded up the Beretta while John swerved around a group of loitering infected. They reminded me of a group of teens hanging outside a 7-Eleven trying to bum cigarettes off of the people going in.

We finally hit the turnoff for Gretna.

"There should be a guard or two here," Roy muttered as we passed through unimpeded.

No one popped out like my last visit.

"Maybe they decided to stop doing that," I offered, but I knew something was up.

"Stay alert," John said, his eyes narrowing.

I wanted to ask if he meant to say stay frosty, but I didn't want to be told, "Now's not the time" again. Roy pressed himself against the window, peering out at the small town as we passed familiar scenery. I could see the top of the rundown apartment building a block away.

"That's the place," I pointed out the windshield.

John took a right and we found ourselves on the street in front of the building. I could tell from our spot that the glass front door had been smashed in. John and I shared a look. Roy got out in a rush, almost forgetting the axe.

"This ain't gonna be good," John said in a low voice.

He got his assault rifle ready before exiting the car. I gulped and followed them out.