Lazarus nodded rhetorically and got to his feet. He always came to the meetings to show his support even though he was rarely called upon to do anything important due to the unpredictability of his health. He observed Connor gather the men he had requested to his side. He had divided a good balance between the survivors staying at the camp and those who would venture from it for supplies. Lazarus had been lucky to not have ran into any of the infected when he roamed the road southwards from Crescent city but if the survivors were to be stranded in the wild again without the safety of their walls he would be no more than a dangerous liability, something he had told himself he would not be. He wandered around the small camp, it was half prison and half home but it was the only option they had. Lazarus had long accepted that life was something to be endured not enjoyed and all this outbreak had done was lower the standard of living of those who had previously been "above" him in a sense. He knew that he would be lucky to survive one on one against one of the infected but in addition to this knowledge he knew that he would give his life to protect the others in the camp. Why should a man almost dead be afraid to sacrifice himself for one who has a long life ahead of them, even if it is a life in this bleak reality. Lazarus pondered these thoughts as he strolled the perimeter of the camp slowly.