I looked into his eyes, tears stained, swollen, and desperate. The earlier eagerness started to slip away, and the grasp of my resolution was nothing but dust starting to form but now has gone. Sure, I mourned the death of Dylan and Sarah, but, this old man, this grandfather, still has hope, he can't mourn since his granddaughter is still alive nor he can be a relief since his granddaughter is still in danger. 
"Where was the last time you saw her?."
Heavy emotions dropped into my heart, brought the heaviest to sink me. My voice was nothing but the defense for my feelings, did not give anything other than nonchalant, didn't give away my slowly build-up panic, nor did give away my slowly stressing-out chest. Because o know, I would go back not to retrieve both Dylan and Sarah but someone's else granddaughter.
"Sh-she was in the main house to work with others that day. I am sure they still haven't gotten out ever since the chaos."
The old man grasped my hand tighter. His eyes were wet with tears again. 
"What do you mean they still haven't gotten out?.  How long have we been in here?. They could die from starvation!."
Out of nowhere, I almost burst into anger. I already raised my voice and immediately regretted it as I brought my hand to my head, slowly giving a massage that didn't help with anything.
"I am sorry, uncle. I didn't mean to shout. No one has tried to help?."
He shook his head. 
"No, the outpost still trying to find help, anyone who could try to see the situation and help the other survivors. But, up to now, there's not even one who dares to go. They all concluded that no one save, if not from the zombies, they probably die out of starvation."
"Too much dark thoughts it seems."
I was sure Blythe would come too, the whole period we have been here, I lost count already, he has been nothing but protective and more concerned about me. It's possible if he knows and he would follow or he would straight up doesn't allow me to. But, I don't want to risk Blythe's safety either, can I do it alone?. Deep down, there's a strange feeling, a bravery or something that convinced me that I would do it, and safely escape with the other survivors. But, I still have doubts, can I?.
“Uncle Joe. I don't know what you have heard about me. But, I can't go blindly without anything and be unprepared. I believe they would be fine, okay?. But, please right now, I need you to stay strong and if I don't come back in two days, send Blythe to me, can you?.”
I rubbed his back as his tears still flowed down. He nodded briefly. 
“I would do everything I can to protect your granddaughter, but, I can't promise if she is still alive, you do understand that, right?.”
He nodded again.
“ I am very sorry for being selfish and asking you to do this. “
He spoke between his other tears. He wiped off his snot on his shirt’s sleeve. 
“It's okay. If Dylan or Sarah are still alive I would do the same.”
“I am sorry for your loss, Walter.”
I didn't reply. I don't know how to. I just smiled at him. 
The moment doesn't stray for any more seconds before someone clears their throat. 
When I lift my eyes, a man is leaning on the door’s leaf, as he has both his arms crossed on his chest with a Cheshire's smile plastered on his face. He has a neat dark goatee to his charm, but something about him didn't sit well with me. He seems familiar. Or it's just my head?. I tried to dig into every memory I had, but not one had his face in it, when I tried to search deeper, my head got a buzz of dizziness as if I tried so hard to see from the dark. Extremely dark, like a dark tunnel, not even a shed of light coming through. 
“Well, look what I found.”
He chirped, amused with the situation. 
He frees himself from the door’s leaf and takes a stride over to us. His smile does not waver. 
“Can't sleep?. Or are you discussing running out there in here?. If you did, you need to know this is the worst place you choose to discuss that.”
He took a sit on the fighting ring and didn't even take a glance out from us, more like, from me. After a while, he looked to my right where Uncle Joe was kneeling. I could see there was a thought running through his eyes, however he decided to let it stay inside as he looked over the place. 
“Out there, there's danger. We couldn't lose another survivor, it's enough with what we have lost. However, if you are that stubborn then bring someone with you, some gun and ammo. Ever since the apocalypse has been brought to us, it's been a silent agreement, left some ammo, gun, and some medical treatment anywhere possible, so the other survivors found them and survived through whatever they faced.”
The man sighed. He looks down at us before something clicks in his head.
“Oh, I'm Nelson, the one who manages this place. So, now, I need both of you to sleep, we have another day tomorrow, so don't want to miss out on anything, do we?. And no more reckless stuff, okay?.”
I took a second to digest what he said as my mind wandered around the possibility of consequences behind my actions. He raised his eyebrows which made me nod to whatever he said. Suddenly, Uncle Joe tried to stand up and give me a weak smile before walking away, leaving me confused, my head still trying to pick up something here but I just went….
Blank…
“So, what are we waiting for?.”
The man with a goatee gave a Cheshire's smile again, making my whole being shuddered, feeling the smile familiar yet terrifying. 
I shrugged before leaving him alone there. My heart beating so fast, still nervous after getting caught. It's not a crime now, isn't it?.
_________
An hour later, my eyes still peeling open. Not even a wink of sleepiness greets me. Trying to find the right spot to be comfortable for an hour already. I sighed, deeply. Felt like something was wrong, but when I tried to figure it out, everything seemed wrong. I sighed again, frustrated so much that I felt the need to sit up and punch something. 
And again…
The memories resonate in every corner of the tent, flashing like a bright LED projected on each tent's clothes wall. Their voices let out a haunting melody, calling, luring, questioning the very being of me. Their faces came in translucent, bleeding blueish Sarah, skin tearing and a hole on the temple Dylan, unrecognizable Michael, the Laketown itself. In times like this, I wonder if my head messed up from being inside the tent for the whole week or because it's a curse of failing to save them. I believe it because of both. 
The haunting voice calling me again and again. The echoes of those moans of pain, the screaming of misery, the rumble of the sanity wall crumbling down. Days and nights, assaulted me with all mean, trying to pull me out of the tent. My chest tightened at the miserable looks, my throat squeezed as if someone trying to send me to them. My head pounding with the intensity of the drilling, sending me painfully on the ground, my knees to stomach, with all my being I begged who I didn't know to stop all the unbearable pain. 
Als…
At the mere slap on my cheeks, those translucent faces no longer stay behind my eyes, and I can see my campmate sleeping replacing the view. They snored in their small camping bed, tossing around, I pushed myself up, feeling the cruciating pain throbbing even more. The voice who again called for this mysterious als was soft, loving enough, a whisper of a woman making me look around if someone was coming in without me noticing since I was right one meter from the tent's curtain door. 
Als…
The voice called again. 
I waited for a few minutes to see if there was a conversation, one second passed, two seconds, three seconds, and without me realizing it was already three minutes. The voice was gone as if it was just a sound behind the wind. I froze as I realized the pounding slowly faded to the matching rhythm of my heart, yet I found it not as normal as the normal human heart beating. 
After a close observation, I realized my heart stopped for five seconds before the next beating. My head flipped around, felt so weirded out and scared slithering in my veins. A normal human’s gap between the heartbeat is one second, two seconds is taken to be a concern and eight seconds can result in death, but mine was five seconds before the next beat.
I look over to Blythe next to me, he sleeps, barely moving like a pure corpse, his chest barely rising. 
‘is it normal then?.’ 
I wondered before the looks of Blythe's hard expression in his sleep reminded me, that he always has a wide smile around Dylan and Sarah. Now, they are gone. Sarah could be saved if I insist on staying with her, Dylan would be saved if I listen to him, and Michael could be saved if he was the one sent with Dylan and Blythe and sent to the Redwood outpost early, since he is an orphan he has no reason to stay behind nor he guards whom a duty is to protect and save. 
It's all because of me. 
My hands flew to my hair, pulling it hard, as my chest squeezed in pain again. There's something, something that makes my chest uncomfortable, makes my mind uneasy, I felt as if something going to come in my head, memories, but it's kept draining from me. I can't even properly grasp it, and that makes me feel uneasy all over. However, I've known them for two months and more. I don't know about my past self, but, they already become something to me, a part of my life. I even thought I would get used to the feeling of working and getting home, and getting to know each resident. Woke up in the morning to the taste of Mom's cooking. Dad's teasing would be the starter of the day. Met up with colleagues, whether it's in a greenhouse or Michael's shed. Greetings to each old person who decided to watch the sunrise. The early bird kids running around. I thought o could get used to it, and in one night, I lost everything. We lost everything. 
My head throbbing was gone completely but my thoughts running at harder paces, making me angry and frustrated with myself, in a loud thought moment, I scrambled to my side, finding a duffle and a bag, the one given by Dylan. I pulled them, in a quick and harsh pull, before I could recognize the laminate material duffel, I pulled the zip through the other end. 
There are numerous things I haven't seen before.
There's a file, two different colors and thicknesses file, a torn wash-down color book, there are a few vials, and some assortment of small machines and equipment I have never seen in my life, in the compartment next to it, I saw two big mesh bags, barely fit the compartment, and was tied tightly on one side, letting curiosity slips in, I open the mesh bag to see a disassembly sort of guns’ pieces, based on the type I mysteriously recognize, it's some sniper type of gun and another one is a shotgun. There's a small card in it, which I decided to leave there since it was dark. I barely see all of this stuff, only some light from the outside travels across the tent's material. My chest swelled in admiration in a second, sadness quickly snatched the emotions.
Hesitantly, I grabbed another bag, the type of bag I quickly fell in love with. There are just so many compartments, and many straps to hang many things, and most importantly durable, as if Dylan knew this. My hands quickly flew to open the zip. There's a thick file with a hardcover, and there's a small box with a key lock, that fits in my whole palm. There are three small guns, equipped with five pouches of ammo. Neatly tucked in there,  light brown leather straps, of course, I recognized the leather straps. I saw Sarah sitting in her sewing machine across my room. She kept sewing and sewing day and night, while I went to Michael's shed. I recognize these from one of her creations, I kept her company that night, all night I would pull the chair and sit quietly beside her sewing machine, we would have arguments because she asked me to go inside my room and rest, and I talked back, she would give up and have a conversation until one of us fall asleep. My lips trembling from the memories and the overwhelming emotions flooded in. 
In another medium-sized compartment, again, I found her creations: a leather jacket, hoodie, black sweatshirt, black sweatshirt with long sleeves, black cargo pants, and black sweatpants, she fits many pockets on all of them. I wondered how she folds these clothes to fit the compartment but she did. She even made me a black matching glove with red on the rim. There's a small white thread written near the red rim. I let out a breathy laugh as my hand reached the neatly gray formal suit in a mesh bag. I laughed again at the sight of another card in there. 
Our youngest son.
Walter. 
The guilt sneaked in and lay beneath my skin, making the nerves hot and soaring in blinding light. My chest swelled again. 
In another smaller compartment, there are various military ration meals, packed in small packets, some dried homemade jerky, a foldable silicone bottle, and a metal box of cutlery. And a metal box bigger than the cutlery one, I think used to cook and eat, enough for one person. Also, there were cubes wrapped in plastic with different ingredients in them. I bet the white tag on each of them was made by Sarah, sadly I can't read in the dark. 
In another smaller compartment I found a lot, I mean literally a lot of medicine in tablet size, bandages, two metal boxes, one fit some small tubes, and bright green liquid fit to the brim in each tube. and I guess they just fit many medical needs in the most possible situations they could ever imagine. Included a random parang in there, or not so random after all. 
On each side of the back, there are two small pockets with a zipper, three on the right, two on the left, and on the left there's a small charging port. 
Huh…
They're too attentive to my needs. Have they prepared for this?. 
I took a second to think. Then, the guilt won over my rational head. 
I took both bags, taking the last look over my campmates especially Blythe, making sure they weren't awake, and slowly opened the tent's curtain, seeing these again with more attentive and different perspectives, it all looked as good and as comfortable as they can be. Dylan used to wish to come here, Sarah would love it being here. 
Upon their names appearing in my head, I reached for one of the mesh bags, kicking the hesitation that slowly crawled through my heart, placing each piece until it finally looked good, a shotgun with a brown line replicated the wood line making it more meaningful and more beautiful. I doubt I know what will happen, will I be dead? Will I get out alive?. 
I shove the leather straps across my chest, connecting the straps across my waist, placing smaller guns in each leather pouch on my right and left waist. With a great easing, I put my shotgun behind in its straps, and ammo belt, and lastly grab the parang and sit it in its sheaths, strapping it right back to the ammo belt. 
The quietness from both outside and the inside was the rarest opportunity if we were in the daytime. All the chaos and them working together to make the outpost their own home. But, it's hard to see even one person right now unless the guards pay no interest in the inside, they are more focused on the outside instead. I took a step out, feeling a rushing night breeze, cold and nice. My heart started to pump up as I made my way through the fences. 
Just how I heard the most noise was from the blue building after the greenhouse, and the vegetables farm. Beyond the blue building was hidden behind the row of stalls. I made my way to the small space between our camp and the greenhouse, twice the size of our greenhouse.
Its path gets darker and darker the more I walk through until I meet the fences. Some moo-ed and various animals were heard from the opposite. Easing my muscles, I climbed up the fence almost as tall as I was. There's a big open space for animals separated by smaller metal fences. With this amount, they could feed the entire Laketown residence.
I look around to see there's indeed a small post with what I think was a butcher place with a complete window and what so ever, but it was abandoned. The metal poles were connected to metal fences that stretched to the brick roof. I wondered if there were stairs leading up there. It's huge, terribly huge. As big as the whole outpost itself. 
A groan and a hot blow from behind startled me, creeping my veins with fear, and making my body freeze in the spot. My hands tightened on the shotgun, before slowly took a step forward and turned. Before I could see what was it, a touch interestingly grazed my shoulder. With that, I completely jumped my feet off the ground and turned right away to see a brown horse with his mane longer and being styled and colorful beads decorated them as it flowed to his side like actual hair. Flowy and even under the darkness, the moonlight from the ground makes his hair look majestic. It's neigh dropping itself to the floor, inviting me up its back. 
“Uhh, no. Thank you but I guess I can handle myself. Sorry.”
I tell him as I run without another look behind. I jumped over the metal fences, there's a long big middle way between the animal's cages or whatever they would like to call. Maybe it's just my excitement or it's just my nervousness, but I do feel free for the first time, as the air lunged inside my lungs with the smells of animals and their poopies. It's still an amazing feeling. 
I went straight for the gate. The adrenaline made my body feel alive, my feet refused to stop as I ignored all the sounds and went for it. There's another big space, with weeds being rolled onto a big stack, and some trucks parked neatly. My eyes took one glance at the surroundings, alerting of any other people's presence or even a noise or a voice, anything but only a familiar grotesque groaning was heard. 
I slowly take a step and another step, my shotgun pointing downwards, I don't want to shoot some innocent people but not zombies though. The breeze caressed my cheeks, blowing a soft sound into my ears. As comfortable as it is, I am indeed on high alert, even the dried weeds under me don't make a sound. Realizing there were none, I picked up my pace, before I could take a long run, a thud was heard behind me. It's heavy, the sound echoes in the air. I turned around to see someone rolling their body on the ground, wait… Did he just.
“Did you just jump from the 10 meter-high roof?.”
He patted his arm and smoothed back his clothes from the weeds. He took nonchalant steps closer. 
It's not crazy enough, or maybe crazy just how I climb fourteen feet in the air. The thought of Dylan found me up there, shaking like a dry leaf in autumn after almost getting eaten by the big guy, perhaps the same big guy who chased me and Blythe. Either way, that creature is something I don't want to know. Perhaps, visiting Laketown residence, or what was left was never a good idea. But, my skin was itching, as if I wanted to pull my skin, pulling my inside, leaving me with my bone. There's a deep uneasiness. Since we left Laketown, that's all I feel. Even though I knew we still had half of the Laketown residence saved, I never felt good. All the lives we could have if we never left for Memorial Day because now, we have two dates for Memorial Day and only two days gap in between. The memories kept digging on the surface of my heart, certainly creating a bigger and bigger hole.