The loss of Gray hadn't been an easy one for Tom to take. This particular supply run seemed to be cursed, ending the first time with a sickle wound to his torso, and the second time with the disappearance of his own shelter leader. Thanks to him, as far as Tom was concerned. Gone from right under his own goddamned nose. Tom didn't have the military background of Grayson and Jadyn, but he had spent a good deal of time surviving alone in this world, and had taken to relying upon himself a lot, and being confident in doing so. This failure felt tremendous, and staying behind the day before had been difficult, even with the wound giving him a good excuse to do so. He had been far too embarrassed to check in on Gray's family himself. He didn't really know anyone at the shelter that well, after all, and felt like it would have been an insult to everyone involved. Tom was used to being alone, and played that part well.
But that morning he had suited up properly with weapons and a tight wrap around his stomach, and he hoped the stitches would last a little longer then they had last time. He took half the dose of recommended painkillers, electing to be fully conscious over drowsily comfortable, and had obviously been fine with giving the lead to Day as they headed out. He didn't know what he could hope to tell her that he hadn't told her already; the zombies had separated them, and while Tom was fighting off his share and reopening his wound, he'd overheard only the briefest of altercations a few streets over. Sound traveled so differently in the city than in the country, back in his corn fields, so Tom couldn't be sure exactly where it had all happened. By the time he'd been able to get away from his section of the herd and check those streets, Gray had been nowhere to be found.
Still, Jadyn's weaponry certainly made him feel safe, and when she wasn't giving him directions, Tom stayed a few steps behind her whenever he could. With just the two of them out and looking, he kept an eye out behind them at all times. "He would have left you a sign somehow if he could, right?" The two of them seemed close, from what Tom could gather, and professional to boot. Normally Tom's loner survival instincts would have kicked in and he'd have found himself miles from the LBJ shelter as soon as he could, but Tom trusted professionalism. He liked capable people. And if he could help get Gray back for everyone at the shelter, he wanted to do so. "I swear it happened just up ahead. And I came from this direction when I checked it out then, so it's unlikely he, or... they... came back this way, right?" Tom had his Desert Eagle out, but didn't have it raised. "It definitely sounded like at least a couple people, to me. Might have been a smaller truck too, but I couldn't really tell."