The walk to the St. John's Dairy farm unfolded much like Lee remembered from the game - an extended, subtle interrogation disguised as friendly conversation. The brothers probed carefully, their questions like surgical instruments dissecting their group's numbers, leadership structure, and supplies.
Lee danced around their inquiries with practiced evasion, spinning half-truths and outright lies when necessary. Mark caught on quickly - Lee saw the recognition flicker in the soldier's eyes - but to his credit, the man followed Lee's lead without hesitation, reinforcing his fabrications with convincing nods.
Their journey was interrupted by a violent spectacle - two bandits embroiled in a heated argument that escalated with terrifying speed. One moment they were shouting; the next, one man was emptying his pistol into the other, cursing as each bullet punched into his former companion's lifeless body. The casual brutality was a stark reminder of how morality had corroded since the world ended. The silver lining? Lee managed to scavenge a serviceable crossbow from the aftermath.
"And here we are - St. John's Dairy." Andy announced with evident pride as they crested the hill. The farmhouse stood solid against the fading light, flanked by a large red barn. The entire property was encircled by a network of humming electric fences.
"Those fences really keep them out?" Mark asked, eyeing the perimeter.
"You betcha!" Andy chuckled. "Fry like bugs in a zapper. We're pushing 4000 volts through those lines with our generators and amps."
Lee had to admit their defenses were decent - for small-scale threats. A proper horde would overwhelm them easily, but he kept that observation to himself.
Their introduction was interrupted by the farmhouse door swinging open. A red-haired woman descended the steps with a practiced, welcoming smile.
"Thought I saw y'all coming up the drive," she called out warmly.
"This here's our mama," Andy introduced.
"Brenda St. John," she said, extending her hands in greeting. "Pleasure to meet you folks."
"I'm Lee," he responded, "and this is Mark." The soldier offered a polite nod.
"Their group's staying down at the old motel," Danny added quickly, watching his mother's reaction.
Brenda's eyes widened with performative concern. "Oh my, that place is... vulnerable. Do y'all have strong leadership keeping everyone safe?" The question came wrapped in honeyed concern.
Lee met her probing with an easy deflection. "We manage well enough," he said, then expertly shifted focus to the basket in her hands. "Now those smell incredible."
Brenda's smile widened, pleased by the attention to her hospitality. "How rude of me - these are for you. Baked fresh this morning." She offered the basket, and Lee could see she wasn't lying - the bread's golden crust still carried the morning's warmth, the aroma of yeast and flour unmistakably genuine. There were even a few juicy berries in there.
"You must have a cow to be able to make these - that's amazing," Lee complimented, maintaining his friendly facade as he accepted the warm bread.
Brenda's smile widened with pride. "You most certainly are correct." She gestured toward the barn. "Our Maybelle's been a lifeline for us. Though I do hope she pulls through this... whatever she's got."
Lee opened his mouth to respond when Mark suddenly interjected, "Your cow's sick? We've got a vet in our group - Katjaa. Plenty of medicine too. We could bring her out here, help you folks out."
Lee barely suppressed a frustrated click of his tongue but kept silent as Brenda's eyes lit up. "Why, that would be wonderful!" she exclaimed. The negotiation flowed smoothly after that - Katjaa's veterinary expertise in exchange for a grand homecooked meal for their group.
As Danny and Brenda retreated into the farmhouse, Andy lingered behind. "Lee," he said, rubbing his neck, "since Mark here's running back to fetch your people, mind giving me a hand with the perimeter check?"
Lee feigned ignorance. "Something wrong with it?"
Andy shifted uncomfortably. "Well... sometimes walkers get tangled up in the wires, knock over posts. Extra pair of eyes would help." Lee nodded agreeably just as Danny disappeared toward the generator shed, leaving them alone in the golden afternoon light.
"I know you said to be cautious, Lee, but just look at this place!" Mark spread his arms, taking in the farm. "Plenty of food, electric fences... if we play our cards right, this could be perfect for us." He'd clearly drunk the St. John family's Kool-Aid.
Lee grabbed Mark's arm and pulled him close, his whisper razor-sharp. "Listen, man—this ain't what it seems. And I can prove it." Before Mark could protest, Lee steered them toward the barn, calling out to Andy with forced cheer, "Mind if we take a look at your Maybelle? Haven't seen a cow in ages."
Andy chuckled without looking up from his generator. "Sure thing. Just be gentle with her—she's under the weather."
The moment they stepped inside, Lee ignored the lethargic cow entirely, beelining for the reinforced door at the back. A heavy padlock gleamed against the bolt lock—no quick way through.
"So this is it?" Mark asked, skepticism dripping from his words.
"Just watch the door," Lee muttered, pulling a screwdriver from his pocket. With practiced motions, he popped the hinges' screws, catching the latch as it fell. "Quick—inside."
The room hit them like a gut punch. Stainless steel tools lined the walls—meat hooks, cleavers, a drain in the floor. Everything spotless, clinical. But Lee's finger shot up, pointing to the wall. "Look familiar?"
Mark's breath caught. "That's... the bear trap Ben's teacher stepped in. But that doesn't prove—"
"Think, Mark." Lee tapped his temple. "Why remove the release mechanism? Useless for hunting—but perfect for trapping something that'd fight back. Something with thumbs."
Realization drained the color from Mark's face. "Christ. But why? What could they possibly—"
"Not here." Lee yanked him back, hastily reattaching the hinges. His hands worked fast, smoothing over their trespass like erasing evidence at a crime scene.
A moment later, Andy strolled in to find them crouched beside Maybelle. "She's a beaut, ain't she?"
"Yeah," Lee said, keeping his voice steady despite the adrenaline still prickling his skin. "You've got plenty of stalls—what happened to the rest?"
Andy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Walkers got most of 'em before we got the fences up. Maybelle's the last one."
"I see." Lee stood, forcing casualness into his posture. "I'll see Mark off, then give you a hand with that fence. Sound good?"
Andy nodded, but his gaze flicked toward the bolted back door—just for a second. "Sure thing. Just holler when you're ready."
The moment Andy stepped out, Mark exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from his temple. "Christ, that was close. You sure you're good staying here alone?"
Lee nodded. "Get back to the others. Take the food, tell them what we found." He lowered his voice. "This is a dairy farm, not a ranch. They wouldn't slaughter their last cow—so what the hell are they trapping?"
Mark's jaw tightened, but he gave a grim nod. "Alright. Watch your back."
Lee walked him to the end of the driveway, handing over the basket of bread. Mark didn't waste time—he took off at a jog, disappearing down the road.
Lee watched Mark disappear down the road before turning back toward the farm. The walkie at his hip crackled to life.
"Lee?" Clementine's voice, tinny with static but unmistakable.
He thumbed the button, forcing lightness into his tone. "Hey, sweet pea. You holding up okay?"
"Yeah. What's the farm like?"
Lee clicked the gate shut behind him. "Real nice. Electric fences, plenty of food. Mark's bringing back fresh bread—still warm." He could practically see her eyes widening through the radio.
"Bread..." The word came out dreamy, confirming his mental image of her drooling.
"They've got a cow too. Maybelle. Though she's sick." He waved at Andy across the yard—ready when you are—but noted how the man's gaze lingered on the walkie.
Good. Knows he can't pull shady shit with me armed and connected.
"Sick?" Clem's voice pitched higher. "What's wrong with her?"
"Not sure, kiddo. But she'll pull through." He paused, then: "Put Kenny on, would you?"
A shuffle of static later, Kenny's gravelly baritone replaced hers. "You good up there, Lee? No sketchy business?"
Lee leaned against a tree, its rotting swing creaking under his weight. He kept his voice low. "Food's legit. Fences too. Mark is even bringing back a basket of food as we speak. But listen—that bear trap that got Ben's teacher? It's theirs."
"So they're the ones who modified it too?" Kenny's voice crackled with barely-contained fury. Lee could practically hear his teeth grinding through the static. "But why? What's the damn point?"
"Simple." Lee forced a casual wave at Brenda as she smiled from the kitchen window. His fingers tightened around the walkie. "To catch people. And eat 'em."
The silence stretched so long Lee thought the connection had cut out. Then:
"You telling me," Kenny's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, "you're sitting there alone with goddamn Hannibal Lecter and his beady-eyed brother?"
"Pretty much." Lee kept his tone light, watching Andy tinker with the generator across the yard. "Though they don't know I've figured them out yet."
The walkie suddenly erupted with Kenny's roar: "THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING THERE? GET YOUR ASS OUT NOW!"
Lee jerked the device away from his ear as the shout echoed across the quiet farm. Brenda's head snapped up from the kitchen window. Andy's wrench stilled against the generator.
Shit.
"I told you I was lactose intolerant before, right?" Lee said loudly into the walkie, turning the volume all the way up. Kenny's confused protests crackled for a moment before he finally switched it off.
Andy approached, wiping grease from the wrench in his hands. "Everything alright, Lee? Sounded like some commotion." His eyes lingered just a second too long on the walkie.
"Just some trouble back at the motel," Lee lied smoothly, "Nothing they can't handle. They'll still be coming after they sort it out."
"Oh?" Andy's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Handy little thing, that walkie. You use it to keep in touch with your whole group?"
"Yeah," Lee matched his fake cheer, "Just telling them how great this place is. They'll be thrilled when Mark gets back with your mom's bread."
"Mama's cooking'll put smiles on their faces," Andy said, hefting the wrench onto his shoulder. The metal glinted in the afternoon sun. "You ready to check that perimeter for me?"
"Sure thing." Lee fell into step beside him, his own smile hardening as they walked toward the fence line. "Least I can do."
The wrench tapped rhythmically against Andy's shoulder with every step. Lee counted each one.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Like a clock counting down.
"Alright," Andy said as they reached the fence line. He tapped a section of the silent wires. "Just follow this down about a quarter mile. Any walkers you see? Give 'em a nudge. This stretch was just live—they'll be extra crispy."
Lee nodded, eyeing the dense treeline beyond the fence. "You'll be watching my back?"
Andy pulled out a pair of binoculars, the lenses glinting in the sun. "Wouldn't let a guest wander off unprotected." His grin didn't reach his eyes.
"Glad to hear that." Lee forced a smile as Andy retreated toward the generator, the binoculars still raised.
Alone. Finally.
Lee kept his pace casual, but his mind raced. This was a kill box—bandits were undoubtedly waiting in those trees, arrows notched. His shotgun could outmatch them, but not if they got the drop first.
And then there was Andy.
Even from a distance, Lee could feel those binoculars tracking his every move. One wrong step—one glance toward an escape route—and the facade would shatter.
Play dumb. Stay alive.
He adjusted the crossbow and strap of his shotgun, fingers brushing the shells at his hip.
Wait for the right moment.