They find him in a church that looks like it’d been abandoned long before the dead rose. He’s on his knees before the empty altar. Skin and bone hands clutching two rosaries and head bowed. They think he’s dead at first. The man doesn’t move or acknowledge them in any way. Even when the floor cracks under Shane’s careful tread. It’s not until they’re closer that they hear him, see his thin shoulders rise and fall with breath. A reedy thin whisper of sound that’s too purposeful to be the random moans of a walker.