clem rescue - graham/shane/jack
[Death, the night before. Death, now. Wasn't any different. Bones or rotting flesh made no difference in the end. And now Clem was somewhere, in the midst of death, alone, where she shouldn't be. Of course he had to go after her. Of course he had to find her.
And he'd known, despite her worries, that Shane wouldn't stop him. He knew it in the way he knew unspoken things carved in stone; he would always, always have his back. Graham could have easily set out on his own but he was, admittedly, glad for his best friend's presence. He didn't notice his appearance, didn't ask where he'd been. They found maps, they planned a route, they moved.
West. Through A Block to B, where the dead awaited them. He had his revolver, as always, but here guns were a last resort. He favored a machete crusted with dried blood and some long-dead guard's baton at his hip, and he moved with single minded purpose that barely seemed human; every walking corpse was an obstacle and so he cut them down.]