After a good breakfast with Carmen and Shannon, I left for Summer's house.
Or rather, Marlon's house.
It was near Brighton Park, which honestly didn't surprise me much. Marlon was the type to grow attached to a place and stick to it for years, and I could easily imagine him coming there before the outbreak, back when retirement had probably meant quiet walks, fresh air, and the right to be left the hell alone.
That part of his life hadn't lasted.
The outbreak had dragged him right back out of retirement and shoved him into a war he probably never wanted, against a man he had once trained with his own hands. That was the worst part of it. Callighan wasn't some random enemy Marlon had met after the world fell apart. He was someone from before. Someone who had known him when things still had rules.
It was a rotten hand for both of them.
Still, thinking about it didn't make me side with Callighan.
