The small town.
Another fruitless search left a shadow hanging over everyone's mood.
"Fuck. This damn place is picked clean." Merle kicked an empty can, sending it flying.
Daryl wiped the sweat from his brow, scanning the area before his eyes settled on a side street.
"Hey, remember that bar Hershel stayed at last time? It's just up ahead. Might still be something left we can drink."
After speaking, he glanced at Leah, then at Calista, clearly waiting for her call.
Shane spoke up as well.
"Let's grab a drink. We've been worn out these past couple of days."
There was a hint of longing in his voice, something even he did not fully notice.
It was not just about alcohol. It was about escaping, even briefly, the suffocating tension at the farm. Lori, Rick, the future. All of it pressed down on him.
Calista exchanged a look with Leah.
Finding vehicles was still the priority, but after a wasted day and low morale, letting everyone unwind a little would not hurt.
She also remembered that the bar still had some untouched alcohol and canned goods they could take with them.
She gave a slight nod.
"Let's go."
The bar's door hung crooked, glass shattered. Inside, tables and chairs were overturned, dishes scattered everywhere.
It looked just as wrecked as the last time they had been here.
"Damn, this place stinks," Merle muttered, pinching his nose.
Suddenly, a dragging sound and a low growl came from behind the counter.
Two walkers with gray, decayed skin staggered out. They had probably wandered in by accident. Their movements were slow, but the moment they caught the scent of the living, they became agitated.
"Take them out," Calista said.
Almost at the same instant, Leah's dagger slid cleanly into one walker's eye.
Daryl's crossbow gave a soft snap as a bolt pierced the other's forehead.
Merle and Shane stepped forward and dragged the twitching bodies into a corner.
Daryl and Merle moved behind the bar with practiced ease.
They got lucky. Beneath a collapsed liquor cabinet, they found several bottles of bourbon, half buried under broken wood and glass.
Merle grinned, bit the cap off one bottle, and took a long swig. The burn made him exhale deeply, easing some of the tension in his chest.
Daryl grabbed a bottle and took a sip.
Shane picked up the last one and looked at Calista and Leah.
"You ladies sure you don't want some? This stuff helps you forget how messed up the world is."
His gaze lingered more on Calista.
Leah stood by the window, watching outside through a tear in the curtain, ignoring him completely.
Calista shook her head.
"Someone needs to stay clear-headed, Shane. Alcohol slows your reactions."
Shane shrugged and did not push it. He took a heavy drink straight from the bottle.
The burn spread down his throat into his stomach, loosening the tight knot in his nerves.
He leaned against the stained bar, watching Calista.
She was beautiful. Mysterious.
Not like the people on the farm, not naive, not foolish.
There was something in her eyes. A sharp, unwavering belief in survival above all else.
"Seriously, Calista," Shane said, the alcohol stripping away some of his usual restraint, leaving behind a more honest curiosity, "where are you people from? The way you fight, that mechanical arm you gave Merle…"
He gestured toward Leah and Merle.
"You don't look like some random group thrown together."
Calista met his gaze calmly.
"We got separated from our team. The farm just gave us temporary shelter."
Merle snorted, shaking his bottle.
"Hey, officer. You done questioning us? We didn't eat your food, didn't drink your supplies, and we even helped clear out plenty of walkers. That's more than fair."
This time, Shane did not rise to it. His attention stayed on Calista.
He took another drink, lowering his voice, a trace of bitterness creeping in.
"That's not what I meant. It's just… in a world like this, seeing people like you makes you think.
Rick believes we can stay here forever. Hershel used to think those things were just sick. Sometimes I look at them and feel like they're living in a different world."
It was almost an open admission of his dissatisfaction with Rick and their current situation.
Calista picked up on it.
"Survival can't rely on illusions. You have to prepare ahead and take control if you want to live."
Shane nodded, deeply agreeing.
Her words resonated with something inside him. The part of him that was slowly abandoning old rules and accepting a harsher reality.
The alcohol loosened his guard.
He almost spoke. About Lori. About the child. About how Rick coming back had shattered everything.
He wanted someone to understand him.
His gaze lingered on Calista a moment too long, something complicated in his eyes.
Then everything changed in an instant.
From behind the bar where Shane was leaning, in a corner hidden by overturned furniture and torn curtains, a walker suddenly lunged out.
Its lower body was gone, its intestines dragging across the floor, but its upper body was strong. A shriveled black hand shot forward, grabbing for Shane's leg.
It was too sudden. Too close.
Shane's attention was on Calista, and the alcohol slowed him just enough.
By the time he realized, the walker's hand had already brushed his pant leg.
"Watch out!"
Calista reacted instantly. Her left hand grabbed Shane's arm and yanked him back hard.
At the same time, she snatched up a heavy empty bottle from the counter and smashed it into the walker's temple.
A dull crack echoed.
The walker's head snapped to the side and went still.
It all happened in a blink.
Shane stumbled from the pull, swinging his arm as he staggered back a couple of steps before regaining his footing.
For a brief instant, the back of his hand brushed against Calista's cheek.
The sensation lingered.
His heart skipped.
A long-forgotten feeling flickered through him, leaving him momentarily dazed.
Calista stepped back immediately, first checking her clothes to make sure nothing had splashed onto her, then looking at him.
"You okay?"
Shane snapped out of it, forcing the feeling down. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks."
He glanced at the motionless remains on the floor, his expression complicated.
Merle let out a whistle, breaking the tension.
"Damn, Calista. You're getting better."
Calista paused, then felt a small surge of satisfaction.
It was true. Her stamina had been improving lately, and she had not had a fever again.
The effects of the experimental vaccine were becoming more obvious.
Shane watched her, took a deep breath, and swallowed whatever he had been about to say.
In the end, he just took another long drink, forcing down both his emotions and the words he never spoke.