Sonia's touch is light on her shoulder. There are too many layers between her skin and that gentle hand--people just keep offering her blankets--to feel any of its warmth, but it's still kind of her. Beth smiles a little at her.

By now, she's learned enough not to be surprised that Sonia doesn't already know the answer to that question. Too bad it means having to tell her.

"There's this--this sickness. Everybody has it, but it doesn't do anything unless you die...or you're bit by somebody who already did." She's going to have to explain and re-explain this, she's starting to realize. It's so much a part of what life is at home that it's impossible to say anything without mentioning it. "We call 'em walkers. Your body gets up again, and all it wants is to eat people."