"I only had one bullet," Dean stated, and shifted his hand with the gun. "Wouldn't been a bitch, if the damned thing had bit you." His motives had been more selfish than not. He'd killed the thing because it was a zombie. Saving her from being bit was bonus.
He didn't consider himself any kind of hero. He'd failed to save the one person who mattered most to him. Everyone else, the ones he saved or didn't save, were little more than incidentals. He felt ambivalent, most of the time, because no matter how many people he saved, Sammy remained unsaved.
He wondered what her deal was. Had she woken up in this city with no memory of how she'd gotten here, the same as he had? He wanted to know, but he wasn't going to ask, because even though the world had gone to shit and crazy was the name of the game, he didn't want to sound completely insane.