There was a blister on Eddie's foot and he realized that he was limping - probably had been for some time. Ben hadn't noticed, or hadn't bothered to say anything and their new tagalong, Will Kincaid, seemed too far lost in his own thoughts to notice. They were nearly back on Eddie's street, using the same scouting method that seemed to work so well on their hunt for Foxy: Eddie in front, Ben in back, the only difference now was that Will was between them.

Eddie thought about Foxy and cursed their chubby, new acquaintance. Will dragged his feet behind Eddie and plodded along with shoulders slumped. His small eyes never seemed to leave his shoes. If he had never met up with them, Eddie was sure he'd be cowering in some dark place hoping to wake up from this terrible nightmare until the inevitable happened.

If what Will said was true, then Foxy was dead at the hands of men - HUMANS, not zombies. And to Eddie, they sounded suspiciously like the farmers out on Route 7. But why kill Foxy?

Again, there was a sharp pain from Eddie's toe and he decided to finally check it out. He turned and held up an open palm to Ben, signaling to stop. Will nearly bowled Eddie over and Eddie grabbed him by the shirt partly to steady him, partly in anger.

"Watch where the fuck you're going." Eddie hissed.

Will barely registered the comment and only stood there, looking around vacantly and nodding to no one in particular.

Sitting on the curb brought an instant chill to Eddie's ass as he started untying his shoelaces.

Just a few weeks ago he would never have grabbed anyone and said anything like that. Not even if they had been hostile to him, first. Eddie never pushed back when confronted by bullies. Now there was something aggressive and angry in him, capable of pointing a loaded gun and firing it without remorse.