The 'camp' was smaller than we had expected. It wasn't a large community like we'd been hoping for - it was more a make-shift, consisting of nothing more than about half a dozen tents and the smouldering remnants of a campfire. 

There was one thing that confused us, however - something that didn't add up. There was nowhere near enough tents here to accommodate the amount of people that would have been needed to create the ruckus Michonne and Carol reported hearing.

Michonne had estimated about ten guns, at least, all firing in unison. The tents here were enough to hold six people at best. 

Unless they made four people sit outside in the rain, but I sincerely doubt that.

"You think this is the wrong camp?" Carol asked Michonne, who stood observing the scene deep in thought.

"No," she replied in a somewhat detached voice, as though she was still thinking deeply, "no. It can't be. What are the chances of there being another camp in a place like this? This is the right place. But it doesn't make sense..."

There were quite a few questions, and very few answers. Hell, that's the story of my life...

Carl had sought refuge inside one of the tents. I couldn't blame him;  this damn thunderstorm was relentless.

I peered through the opening of the tent to see Carl sat cross-legged inside. 

It was quite a comedic sight - he always looked like he was preparing to meditate or something.

"You look pretty... at peace, in there," I smirked to him.

"I am," he agreed with a chuckle as I crawled inside the tent to join him. It was surprisingly warm inside, and I understood why he looked so content in here.

"What do you think?" I asked him, "do you think this is the camp we were looking for, or do you think it's just a coincidence we found this one instead."

"I don't know," Carl sighed, "I guess I -"

My eyes had been fixed on Carl's for a moment, as he began speaking, but they shifted slightly to the left as I noticed a strange shadow outlined on the fabric of the tent. 

It was unmistakable. And it was right outside.

"Look out!" I shouted in warning, drawing a pistol frantically as a gurgle echoed from outside the tent, confirming my fears. 

There was a look of confusion and shock on Carl's face as he thought I had just pointed a gun at him, before registering my command and hearing the sound of a walker just a few centimeters and a thin layer of fabric behind him.

Without considering the ramifications of firing an unsilenced weapon so rashly, I squeezed the trigger.

The bullet tore through the fabric of the tent with ease and lodged itself in the forehead of the walking corpse that had been just a matter of seconds away from killing Carl. 

The two of us scrambled hastily out of the tent, breathing heavily as the three adults rushed over to us in confusion.

"What the hell is going on?" Michonne asked.

"What in God's name were you thinking firing an unsilenced weapon in a place like this?" Rick shouted at me scornfully, suddenly snatching the pistol from me and throwing it to the ground in anger, "you could have attracted walkers from everywhere!"

"Dad," Carl interrupted his father, still shocked from his sudden near-death experience, "he saved my life with that shot."

Rick looked at Carl, and then back at me.

"Right," he sighed, "okay."

I took that as an equivalent to an apology - or at least, as close as Rick would dare get to one - before Carl's father then turned his attention to the walker that was now sprawled out on the ground, which Michonne and Carol had already begun to inspect.

"Are you okay?" I asked the young Grimes, who still fought for breath.

"Yeah," he nodded, sounding somewhat uncertain, "yeah, I'm good. Thanks."

I'm not sure the word 'good' is the word I'd use. 

Being so close to death and still managing to emerge unscathed is a traumatizing experience, and even now - after so many such encounters - I still haven't gotten used to it.

You consider yourself lucky, sure, but then you reflect on it and your mind opens up so many possibilities about what could have happened if you hadn't got out of that situation in one piece.

What if you'd been a second late? What if you'd hesitated? What if you're gun wasn't loaded? 

It was a terrifying experience, but it also made me realize something else: Carl and I were actually a lot more alike than I had thought. 

I had always assumed that Carl would be more accustomed to this way of life than I - or at least more immune to its traumas. I thought that, with a group to look after him and teach him how to adapt and survive in the world, he would have managed to control these emotions. 

But the experience with the ring on the R.V, and now this... 

Maybe it's just a human thing, and nobody  - no matter how well trained or brought up - can be immune to it.

"Come on," I patted him on the back, "let's go and see what's so interesting about this body that everyone's looking at."

We walked over to Rick, Michonne and Carol, who had spent the last minute or so examining the corpse with confusion, and now all five of us were congregated around the body, hoping it might answer the question as to whose camp this was.

"These are bullet wounds," Michonne probed a small exit wound with the tip of her katana, before motioning to several more all over the corpse. 

"There was a gunfight? I thought they were shooting at the walkers, not other people."

Michonne's face was one of contemplation for a moment, before she managed to apparently piece the mystery together.

"No. This is the camp we're looking for. But it was attacked by another group, which is why we heard so much gunfire. The walkers were just an aftermath, brought over by the sound of the gunfire."

"So... Then this is one of the people who got killed in the gunfight?" Rick confirmed with Michonne, motioning to the bullet-riddled corpse that lay at their feet.

"Exactly," she replied with a nod.

We all stood for a moment, taking in and comprehending the information we had just uncovered. I recalled what Carol had said just this morning: 'It's not the walkers I'm worried about.' 

She was right. She was all too right.

"So... What are we gonna do now?" Carl asked, echoing my thoughts exactly.

"There's not much we can do," Rick replied, looking at his watch, "it's two in the morning already. We need to get some sleep."

"How can we just sleep knowing that a group was massacred here less than a week ago?" Carol objected.

"I'll keep watch," he insisted, "don't worry."

"You sure, dad?" Carl asked his father.

"Yeah," Rick smiled to his son, "now go on. All of you pick a tent, and lets get some sleep."

He and I might have our differences, but he definitely cares about Carl. He's the sort of dad mine never was...

Carol, Michonne and Carl each picked at a tent.

"Night," Carl called to me, giving me one final smile before clambering inside.

"Good night, Carl," I returned the gesture.

Having selected my makeshift bedroom for the night, I clambered inside my tent. The shelter it provided from the rain was more than welcomed, and the insulation it provided compared to the chill of the outside was another much appreciated benefit. 

The sound of the rain against the fabric was deafening at first, but before too long its rhythm became quite soothing.

It's been another long day. But they're becoming more bearable over time.

As per usual, my final thoughts of the day were about my mother, and then I gladly embraced sleep. 

-END OF ACT TWO-