The two sat in silence until Mark grunted, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. "Hey Carley, can you come help me move this one. I'm spent." He motioned to Brenda's corpse.
Carley sighed and pushed to her feet, leaving Lee alone with his thoughts. The bandit problem gnawed at him—he'd need to question Ben and his teacher when they arrived. Anyone who'd survived an attack would know valuable details.
Dusk settled over the farm like a bruise. Lee stood, his joints protesting as he moved inside. The kitchen smelled of old grease and bleach. Stacked near the fridge, oversized water bottles caught his eye. He poured a glass, the water sloshing as he turned to survey the land through the window.
"Goddammit—" He hissed as the motion tugged at his bullet wound. The pain flared white-hot when he lifted the glass, but he clenched his teeth. Could've been worse. At least he was alive to bitch about it.
The water tasted metallic, but he drank greedily until movement caught his eye—
Headlights.
Three sets of headlights—maybe more—cut through the gathering dark, their engines growling as they rolled toward the main gate. Lee's lips quirked when he spotted the familiar bulk of Kenny's RV bringing up the rear. "Took your damn time," he muttered, wiping his palms on his jeans before stepping outside.
The newcomers spilled from their vehicles like startled birds, eyes wide as they took in the farm's defenses. And there—small and fierce amidst the adults—Clementine's head snapped toward him. Her entire face lit up.
"Lee!"
She was a blur of yellow sundress and flying pigtails, tiny sneakers kicking up dust as she barreled straight for him. Lee barely had time to brace before she collided with his ribs, his good arm curling around her automatically. The impact sent a jolt through his wounded shoulder, but he'd sooner chew glass than let go.
"Hey, sweet pea." His voice came out rougher than he intended. "Miss me?"
Clem leaned back just enough to glare, her small hands fisting in his shirt. "I tried calling you!" She brandished her walkie-talkie like evidence in a trial. "Why didn't you—?" Her accusation died when she noticed the blood soaking his collar. Her lower lip wobbled.
Lee fumbled for his own walkie, thumbing the power button uselessly. "Seems the batteries gave out at some point. I think there's more inside." He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Won't happen again."
"Better not." Her stern look would've been comical if not for the way her fingers hovered near his bandages. "Kenny said you got hurt. Does it... does it sting real bad?"
"Just a scratch." Katjaa's approaching shadow made him amend, "Okay, maybe a big scratch. But it'll heal." He distracted her by producing her cap like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. "Also, look what I found..."
Clem's gasp could've powered a small city. "My hat! You found it!" She snatched it back, jamming it onto her head with enough force to dent steel. "I knew you'd find it. You said you would." The way she beamed at him—like he'd hung the damn moon—made his chest ache.
Lee adjusted the lopsided cap. "Try not to lose it again, yeah?"
"'Kay." She fiddled with the brim, suddenly shy. "Lee? Do you think... maybe one day you'll have kids?"
The question hit like a sucker punch. Lee coughed. "What, one ankle-biter ain't enough for me?" When she didn't laugh, he softened. "If I ever do, hope they're half as tough as you."
Clem considered this, then nodded sagely. "You'd be a good daddy."
Something hot and sharp lodged behind his ribs. Before he could respond, he jerked his chin toward the barn. "Duck's in there with a surprise. Wanna see?"
Katjaa bent to whisper in Clem's ear. The girl's eyes went saucer-wide.
"A COW?!" And just like that, she was gone—a streak of sunshine bolting for the barn.
"She was beside herself with worry," Katjaa said, her motherly smile fading as she turned from the barn door. Her fingers tightened around the medical kit. "Kenny mentioned the bullet's still lodged in your shoulder. We need to remove it—now."
Lee nodded as he led her inside to the dining room. The dining room table creaked under Lee's weight as he shrugged off his bloodstained shirt. His skin prickled at the sight of Katjaa's instruments—especially the pliers glinting in the lamplight.
"Tell me you've got something stronger than willpower for this," Lee muttered, eyeing the tool with growing dread.
Katjaa shook two pills from a rattling bottle. "These will take the edge off. Only... a little."
Lee dry-swallowed them just as Kenny barged in, arms laden with supplies. "Told ya she'd patch you right up. Also, you'll never believe the look we had. We found a ca—"
"Actually," Katjaa interrupted, motioning him closer, "I'll need you to hold him down."
Kenny's grin vanished. Lee's stomach dropped.
"You said the pills would help!"
"I said a little," Katjaa corrected gently as Kenny's calloused hands settled on Lee's biceps. The fisherman mouthed 'Sorry, brother' before applying pressure.
Lee squeezed his eyes shut—
—Then fire erupted in his shoulder.
The world whited out. His back arched off the table as a guttural scream tore from his throat. Kenny's forearm jammed across his chest like an iron bar as something cloth-filled and bitter shoved between his teeth.
Agony. Pure, liquid agony.
Every nerve screamed as Katjaa probed the wound. His vision sparked with static, tears blurring Kenny's strained face above him. His legs thrashed like a gutshot deer's, boots scraping splinters from the floorboards.
"Almost—got it—!" Katjaa's voice pierced the haze.
With a final wet crunch, the pressure vanished. Lee collapsed, drenched in sweat, as Katjaa triumphantly raised the glistening bullet.
It looked absurdly small for all the pain it caused.
Kenny peeled the ruined cloth from Lee's teeth. "Welcome back to the land of the living, tough guy." His joke fell flat when Lee vomited over the table's edge.
Katjaa pressed a cool rag to his forehead. "Rest now. You've earned it."
But as Lee's vision tunneled toward blackness, one thought pierced through:
Clem better not see me like this.
---
"Hnngh..."
Lee stirred as a blade of morning light sliced through the curtains, stabbing at his bleary eyes. He blinked rapidly, the world swimming into focus like a developing Polaroid. With a grunt, he pushed himself upright, the bandage on his shoulder pulling taut.
The master bedroom loomed around him—too lavish, too theirs. Framed photos of the St. Johns lined the walls, their grinning faces now macabre in hindsight. One particular portrait near the nightstand seemed to leer at him.
"Yeah, you're coming down," Lee muttered, slamming the frame face-first onto the dresser.
His shoulder throbbed in protest as he dressed, but the pain was duller than yesterday. They were lucky to have Katjaa's steady hands—even luckier her medical supplies hadn't run dry yet. He shrugged into his jacket, the dark stain on his shirt vanishing beneath the leather.
Peering through the curtains, he watched the morning bustle below: Kenny hauling feed sacks, Lilly arguing with Larry near the generator, and—
A flash of yellow sundress. Clementine's small form darted into the barn, no doubt drawn by their bovine survivor.
"I knew she'd bond with that cow... Maybelle," he corrected himself with a faint smile, heading downstairs.
The farm air hit him—crisp, deceptively peaceful—as he stepped outside.
"Lee! You're up."
Carley approached, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "How's the shoulder? Katjaa said it was... stubborn." A beat. "We all heard it was stubborn."
Lee pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn it. Tell me Clementine didn't hear that."
"Wouldn't be surprised if half of Georgia heard you," Carley joked, but the humor died when she saw Lee's expression. "But don't worry—I kept her calm. Kids distract easy."
"I know it wasn't easy. Thanks." Lee's gaze drifted toward the barn. "Last thing she needs is more to worry about."
Carley stepped closer suddenly, her voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down his neck:"You realize she wasn't the only one worrying, right? I mean the man I like got shot afterall."
Lee's mind flashed to last night—the press of her lips, the way her hair had brushed his skin. He mirrored her hushed tone: "So forward."
She laughed, brushing past him with deliberate slowness."I'm done hinting. I've been dancing around this for weeks and you haven't even noticed." A glance over her shoulder. "Find me later, we should talk."
Lee swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to refocus, heading towards the barn. But he got distacted by Ben and his teacher who were sat inspecting the generator.
Lee swallowed hard, forcing his focus toward the barn—only to be intercepted by Ben and his teacher.
The older man heaved himself up with a walking stick Lee recognized all too well. "Ah—didn't properly introduce myself before on account of...," he said, gesturing to his bandaged leg. "David Parker. Can't thank you enough for saving us back there." His grip was firm despite the pain etched in his face.
"Don't mention it," Lee said, nodding at the cane. "Just glad you're on your feet. That old thing belonged to my father—seems it found its true purpose now."
David looked ready to protest, his grip tightening on the worn wood.
"Keep it," Lee insisted before he could speak. "Does more good with you than gathering dust next to my bedside table."
David's throat worked silently before he managed a hoarse, "Thank you... truly."
As Ben helped his teacher shuffle forward, the lanky teen suddenly blurted, "Oh! I-I'm Ben! We didn't actually—yesterday was crazy and you left so fast and—" His words tumbled over each other like dominos until Lee raised a calming hand.
"Officially met now," Lee said with a tired smile. "We'll talk more later, alright?"
Ben bobbed his head like an overeager puppy before guiding David toward the house.
Lee watched them go, his mind churning.
Ben.
In another life, the kid had been a walking disaster—good intentions wrapped in cowardice and poor judgment. Realistic for a scared teenager, maybe, but realism got people killed here. If history repeated itself... Lee's fingers twitched at his side.
Then there was David—a ghost who shouldn't be breathing. A wild card. Lee's eyes tracked the man's limping progress.
What role does a dead man play in this story?
Lee shoved the barn door open, its rusted hinges groaning in protest. The warm scent of hay and animal musk washed over him as he took in the scene - Katjaa knelt beside Maybelle, her practiced hands moving gently over the cow's flank while the children clustered around like curious ducklings. Sunlight streamed through the wooden slats, painting stripes across the hay-strewn floor.
"Morning, everyone," Lee announced, his voice cutting through the quiet barn murmurs.
Clementine's head snapped up. She was at his side in an instant, her small fingers hovering near his injured shoulder but not quite touching. "How's your... you know?" Her brow furrowed with concern that looked strangely adult on her young face.
Lee forced a grin and gave an exaggerated thumbs-up, immediately regretting it as fire lanced through his muscle. "Feels like a million bucks," he ground out through clenched teeth.
"A million is like... a thousand thousands!" Duck exploded with the particular enthusiasm of a child who'd recently discovered large numbers. His shirt was streaked with hay, and he bounced on his toes as he spoke.
"Thank you, Einstein." Lee managed a tight smile before turning his attention to the cow. Maybelle's big, liquid eyes tracked him as he approached, her sides rising and falling steadily beneath Katjaa's ministrations. "So how is Maybelle?"
"So that's her name," Katjaa murmured, wiping her hands on a rag. The vet's usually clothes were smudged with dirt and medicine stains. "She's stable for now. With proper care, she should be back to full health in a few weeks." Her professional tone couldn't quite hide the relief underneath - they all understood what this animal meant. Milk. Fertilizer. Maybe even hope, if they stayed long enough to reap the benefits.
Lee's eyes swept the barn before landing on the two children huddled near the far wall, their attention fixed on something pinkish and crystalline. He walked over, hay crunching underfoot. "What's caught your attention over here?" he asked, lowering himself with a grunt to their level.
"It's a salt lick!" Duck announced, poking it with a grubby finger. His face scrunched in concentration. "Daddy says cows need it to stay healthy."
Clementine nodded sagely, then added in a stage whisper, "Yeah, but don't actually lick it. It's gross."
Lee's eyebrows shot up. He crossed his arms, fixing Clem with a look that was half-amused, half-suspicious. "Clementine... did you lick it?"
The girl's face remained perfectly blank, her eyes staring at him. "I don't know," she said, in a tone that clearly meant 'absolutely yes.'
A bark of laughter escaped Lee before he could stop it. Clementine's cheeks puffed out in immediate protest, while Duck looked between them with the bewildered expression of someone who'd missed the joke entirely.
"Lee?" Katjaa's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She stood by the doorway, fingers twisting in her apron. "If you're feeling up to it, Kenny could use help moving the supplies."
Lee frowned. He remembered Kenny hauling in a crate last night, but nothing about their stockpile suggested they'd had that much food. "Sure, no problem," he said, stepping closer. "But since when did we have that much to move? Lilly hiding rations somewhere?"
Katjaa's smile didn't reach her eyes as she lowered her voice. "Oh no, Ken and Lilly found an abandoned car yesterday, just off the highway..." Her hands dipped into her bag, emerging with folded pink fabric. "Here. We thought—well, it's better if you give this to Clem."
The hoodie unfurled in his hands, soft and shockingly vibrant against his fingers.
Lee's breath caught.
Pink fabric. A car full of supplies. The timing.
Every hair on his arms stood upright as the realization hit like a cattle prod.
These were the Stranger's things.