Somewhere in the hills of Georgia, a rag-tag group of survivors makes camp.

“Rick, man, we gotta talk.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to talk about, far as I’m concerned. We’re makin’ camp. My wife and son are safe. That’s all that matters.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about that, man. I’m talkin’ about the distribution of wealth in the group, here.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well it ain’t no secret that we ain’t got much in the way of supplies. Most of us haven’t eaten a real meal in three or four days. Hell, I’m carryin’ this gun around but I haven’t had a bullet for it in weeks.”

“Times are tough. We’ve got to scavenge, live off the land. These walkers have changed things.”

“Well, about that. See, you and your family have that Kelty 5-Piece Camp Hauler Set. You’ve got a three-piece Camp Hauler and two Camp Cartons that are water resistant and have dual handles, and they look like they’re full of food.”

“We agreed that any surprises we brought with us into the group, we could keep.”

“Yeah, but that was before- I mean, c’mon Rick. I’m carryin’ around two sticks of beef jerky in a sock. We’re starving here, man.”

“Then we’ll have to go hunting.”

“Hunt- Rick, you’ve got an entire smoked ham in that bag. I’ve seen it! Now we’re willing to help carry the stuff, but come on. Share the wealth a bit.”

“I don’t know that I can do that, Shane. And if you keep pushin’ me we’re headed for a reckoning that I don’t know we want to reach.”

“Oh for cryin’ out- You act like you’re some kind of protagonist or something, always takin’ the lead and mumbling weird platitudes like that. I’m gonna go forage for mushrooms, then. Hopefully they won’t kill me before the zombies.”

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