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Chapter 5
Rick let out a deep breath, desperately trying to calm his raging emotions down.
He was currently up on the roof of the building, overlooking the ruined landscape of the city.
Atlanta sprawled before him like a dead thing, bones picked clean.
The skyline was broken, scorched black with fire and time. In the distance, columns of smoke still rose into the air, curling like fingers into the grayish sky.
The wind carried the stench of rot, ash, and despair.
He tightened his grip on the rooftop ledge, knuckles white.
Everything inside him churned with guilt, grief, and anger. The past few days had been nothing short of hell, and even now, even with Glenn reunited with his group, even with Hawk and Doc keeping quiet watch, Rick felt like the world was about to tilt again.
Because it always did.
Because safety was an illusion.
He thought of Carl and Lori, were they still out there? Safe?
…Alive?
He didn't know, and not knowing was eating him alive from the inside out.
Rick's jaw clenched.
The breeze up here was stronger. It tousled his hair and cooled the sweat beading on his skin.
He looked down at the street below.
Walkers shambled in scattered pockets, far off enough not to be a threat for now, but close enough to remind him what would happen if one mistake was made.
He closed his eyes and tried to center himself, listening to the low howl of the wind and the occasional pop of something crumbling in the distance.
"Focus," he muttered to himself. "You're alive, you've got help, there's still hope."
Footsteps echoed behind him, light but deliberate.
Rick turned, expecting to see Glenn or maybe Doc checking in.
Instead, it was Hawk, silent as always, his dragon mask catching the light and reflecting it back like polished porcelain.
Rick didn't say anything at first, just nodded in greeting.
Hawk approached and stopped a few paces away. He stood still, hands on his weapon like a statue posted on a rooftop wall.
"You really don't talk much, huh," Rick said, trying for some levity, his voice hoarse.
Hawk tilted his head slightly, the only sign he was listening.
Rick sighed again and returned his gaze to the horizon.
"I don't blame you. Hell, if I didn't have to talk, I probably wouldn't either."
They stood there in silence for several long minutes.
The wind whispered between them, slipping through broken glass and rusted metal, carrying with it the dusting sounds of the dead city below.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, It was heavy, but not hostile. More like two soldiers standing watch at the edge of the world.
Rick kept his eyes on the distant skyline, jaw working as he swallowed hard.
His throat was dry.
He didn't want to speak.
Afraid the words would come out wrong, too emotional, too raw.
But the weight in his chest only grew heavier with every second.
He exhaled slowly, as if trying to bleed it out.
Finally, he spoke. "I… I'm sorry."
Hawk didn't respond.
Rick's fingers curled tighter on the edge of the rooftop.
"Back at the alley… the horde, the helicopter… all of it. That was on me, it was my fault. I wasn't thinking, wasn't careful. You, Doc, Hound… You're already doing so much to help me find my family… And you all still stepped in, risked your lives to save me, Hound…"
He hesitated, voice catching.
Still, Hawk said nothing.
Rick gave a half-hearted, bitter chuckle.
"Guess you already knew that and probably been waiting for me to say it."
The silence stretched again.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at Hawk.
The man stood motionless, unreadable behind that dragon mask.
Rick sighed and shook his head. "I figured. You're not the type to waste words on this kinda crap anyway."
He turned back toward the skyline, the apology sitting awkwardly in the air between them, like a stone that had been thrown but never lan—
"I forgive you."
Rick flinched.
Hawk's voice… It wasn't cold, it wasn't angry.
It was… factual.
As if stating something simple, like the sky being blue.
Rick stared at him, stunned for a second, but quickly shook it off.
"You… really? Just like that?"
Hawk looked at him, or at least Rick felt like he did. The dragon mask betrayed nothing, but something in his posture shifted slightly, more relaxed now.
"I'm quick to forgive," Hawk said, the words slow and deliberate, each syllable like a blade carefully unsheathed."But I don't forget."
Rick's brows furrowed. "So, what you're saying is we're good… but you'll always remember I nearly got us all killed?"
"Yes."
It was the blunt honesty that hit hardest.
Rick looked away again, chewing his cheek. He appreciated the answer, even if it wasn't comforting.
"Fair enough," he murmured. "I wouldn't forget either."
The silence returned, but this time, it wasn't weighed down by guilt. It felt clearer somehow, like a wound had been acknowledged, even if it hadn't healed.
They stood together a little longer, the rooftop wind brushing past them, both men staring out at the ruins of a world that no longer made sense.
_____
Glenn leaned against the side of a worn-out wall, arms loosely crossed as he watched Doc crouched beside Morales, gently wrapping his ankle with practiced hands.
The man's movements were smooth, efficient, surgeon-like, masked eyes focused on the task at hand, and that alone was enough to make Morales tense up like a board despite the care being given.
Glenn could see it written all over the guy's face.
Morales was trying really, really hard not to look scared, like a deer pretending not to see the headlights barreling toward him. He kept his eyes anywhere but on the mask, like on the ceiling, on the window, but never on Doc's face.
Not that you could see Doc's face.
That mask was like something out of a horror movie, sleek and inhuman. Deep black with subtle ridges etched into the surface and two blank, unblinking eye lenses that gave away. nothing
It didn't help that Doc didn't say a word, not even a mutter, as he worked, just the soft rustle of bandages and the occasional twitch of his fingers causing his patient to flinch.
Glenn understood the reaction… Sort of.
He glanced around at the others.
Andrea stood a few feet away, hands wrapped around her gun.
T-Dog paced nearby, shooting occasional glances at Doc, clearly on edge.
Jacqui was sitting near Morales, her eyes flicking toward the masked man now and then like they were expecting him to suddenly turn and snap someone's neck.
He let out a slow breath through his nose.
They were all doing their best not to look freaked out, but they clearly were.
Unnerving.
Why don't they talk?
They move too quietly.
Why do they wear those damn masks?
He'd heard every whispered concern, seen every wary glance passed between the group.
The same questions over and over again, some being who are they, what do they want, can they really be trusted?
But Glenn… Glenn didn't feel that way.
He watched Doc finish the wrap, give Morales a gentle tap on the shin, and stand in a single fluid motion.
He didn't linger, didn't say a word, just nodded once and walked off toward the other side of the room.
Morales exhaled hard once he was gone, like he'd been holding his breath the whole time.
Glenn hid a small grin.
Personally, he thought they looked awesome.
Like badass vigilantes from some post-apocalyptic superhero comic or something.
The masks, the suit, the way they carried themselves, they had style.
But more than that… they'd helped him.
When he'd gotten separated during that run by a horde, he'd thought he was screwed. And when he told them he got separated from his group?
They brought him back safely despite the fact that he didn't ask them to.
They even helped him gather supplies and gave him a gun for free for fuck's sake! Who even does that!?
And then there was Rick.
The man had vouched for them, told him they were helping to find his family, that Leo, their boss or leader or whatever, had saved his life.
And Rick was a cop, an honest one at that, Glenn could tell. Dude practically bled integrity,
They more than earned his trust.
So yeah, Glenn trusted them.
Were they weird? Definitely.
Scary? Seeing how everyone is still being scared shitless of Doc that was a fuck yes.
Dangerous? With how heavily armed they are, hell yeah! But as long as it wasn't directed at him or anyone he cared about, he was more than fine with them being dangerous.
Still, he couldn't fault the others for being nervous.
The silence, the masks, it made them feel… monstrous.
His gaze flicked up toward the roof where he'd last seen Rick and Hawk.
It was funny in a way.
Rick looked like a man lost, barely holding it together, but when he was around those three, he seemed steadier.
Like having them nearby gave him something to anchor to…
Glenn turned his attention back to the group.
Morales was testing his weight on the ankle, grimacing but managing.
Jacqui looked a little less anxious now, and Andrea looked less ready to shoot someone at the drop of a hat.
It was slow, but they were adjusting.
Little by little.
And Glenn knew, hoped, that in time, they'd see what he saw.
Good people who were willing to help despite the world they now lived in.
Even if they were the quietest, creepiest, coolest good guys he'd ever met.
"What's your problem you silent asshole!"
Glenn's thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of raised voices.
One, loud and slurred with attitude, the other… silence.
He blinked, turning his head just in time to see Merle Dixon stomping his way across the room toward Doc, boots thudding heavy against the concrete floor like he owned the damn place.
"Oh boy…" Glenn muttered, pushing off the wall.
The others were already on edge, and Merle? He was gasoline looking for a fire.
"Hey!" Merle barked, swaggering right up to Doc, who was standing by a supply crate, calmly going through his medical supplies. "You deaf under that mask too, huh?
Doc didn't react, didn't even look up.
Merle grinned, eyes gleaming with the kind of manic glee Glenn had come to associate with only the worst kinds of people.
T-Dog was already moving toward him, hand out. "Come on, man, leave him alone. He ain't bothering you."
Merle slapped his hand away with a scoff. "Back off, boy. I'm just talkin'. Tryin' to have a friendly chat with our mute medic over here."
Andrea looked like she was considering shooting him on principle.
Jacqui muttered, "Jesus Christ, not again…"
Doc remained unmoved, completely unfazed by the insults.
That seemed to have only made Merle madder.
"Oh, I get it~! You think you're too good to talk to me? That yer better than me?" He stepped closer, jabbing a finger into Doc's shoulder. "Fuck'n freak! Don't wanna show yer face because your ugly as fuck und'r that fucking mask!"
The others stood by doing nothing, unsure of what to do, watching as Merle verbally assaulted Doc.
That was enough for Glenn.
He pushed off the wall and made his way over quickly, stepping between Merle and Doc before the older man could get any closer.
"Hey! Back off! He doesn't need to talk to you, so walk away."
Merle turned, sneering as he focused on him instead.
"Oh, look who it is. Lil' Tokyo's gotta come save the day."
Glenn's stomach twisted, a little intimidated by the redneck but refused to back down. He squared up, trying to keep his voice level.
"I'm Korean, asshole."
Merle rolled his eyes. "Whatever! You're all the same anyway."
And then, without warning, he cocked his fist back and threw a punch.
It was fast.
But Doc?
Doc was faster.
In one smooth motion, he stepped forward and caught Merle's wrist mid-swing with a gloved hand.
There was a crack of tension in the air as the impact stopped cold, Merle's knuckles just inches from Glenn's face.
Everyone froze.
Merle's eyes widened, his body tensing with surprise. "What the fu—"
Then Doc moved.
Glenn barely saw it.
A shift of weight, a fluid turn, and suddenly Merle's arm was behind his back, and he was yanked off balance.
His knees buckled as Doc twisted his body and brought him down in a practiced motion, like he was folding laundry.
Before Merle could react, Doc was behind him, one arm looped tightly around his throat, the other bracing his wrist behind his back in a tight lock.
Merle thrashed. "Hey—HEY!"
Doc didn't budge and held him firm, not choking hard enough to kill, but more than enough to control.
"Let go, you freakin'—ugh! Chokeholds are illegal!" Merle screamed, desperately trying to get out of the chokehold.
No response.
Doc remained a statue, calm, steady, silent, while Merle squirmed like a fish on a line.
Glenn, stunned, blinked several times before finally muttering, "Holy shit."
"Okay… I think I like him now." Andrea stared, slack-jawed, at how easily he took Merle down.
T-Dog was openly grinning, more than satisfied by Merle getting his just desserts.
"Man's got moves."
Even Morales, from across the room, was impressed.
Merle, meanwhile, was still flailing. "Get him off me! This is abuse! This is a hate crime! I'm bein' silenced!"
Doc slowly leaned forward just enough to apply a little more pressure to Merle's windpipe, cutting off his yelling into more of a wheeze.
"Okay! Okay! Uncle! Uncle!"
Doc didn't move for a few more seconds, holding the choke just long enough to make sure the message landed like a punch to the ego.
Then, wordlessly, he released him.
Merle dropped to the floor with a loud grunt, coughing and sputtering, face red and sweaty.
Doc stood there silently for a moment, adjusting his gloves like nothing had happened.
Then, with complete composure, he turned and walked away.
The group watched him go in stunned silence.
Jacqui, staring at Doc, leaned over to Glenn and whispered, "You sure he's a doctor?"
Glenn, still watching Doc disappear into the shadows of the next room, couldn't help but smile.
"Yeah," he smiled. "Yeah, he is."
Rick made his way down the stairwell with Hawk trailing just behind him, the sound of their boots echoing faintly in the tight, dusty corridor.
The silence between them lingered, but it wasn't uncomfortable.
The hallway opened up into the lower level of the building, where the group had made their temporary base.
Rick could feel it before he even saw it.
There was tension in the air, thick and heavy. The kind that always followed after a confrontation.
People were gathered in small clusters, whispering under their breath, throwing sideways glances toward one particular spot near the supply crates.
And there was Merle Dixon.
Rick's eyes narrowed.
The man was sitting on the ground, propped against the wall, red-faced and breathing hard.
One hand rubbed at his throat while the other rested limply across his knee.
He looked like someone who'd just gone a round with a bear and lost.
Rick's gaze swept the room quickly.
T-Dog was standing off to the side, trying to hide a smile.
Andrea was looking at jewelry with a very suspicious kind of satisfaction.
Morales and Jacqui kept stealing glances at Merle, then back toward the far room, where Doc had presumably gone.
Something definitely happened.
Rick was about to open his mouth to ask when Glenn came jogging over, his face a mix of nervous energy and something else, excitement? Urgency?
"Rick!" he called, slowing to a stop just short of bumping into him. "Hey—uh, do you… Do you know someone named Shane?"
Rick froze.
The world felt like it narrowed to that one name. His heart kicked into overdrive, thudding against his ribcage like a hammer. His fingers twitched at his sides.
"What?" he said sharply. "Yes—I know him. Why? Where? How do you know that name? Why the hell didn't you say anything earlier!?"
Hawk had stopped beside him, posture straight and watchful, head tilted slightly in Rick's direction.
Glenn flinched at the outburst, raising his hands quickly. "Whoa, sorry! I wasn't thinking about whether you guys knew each other or not. He didn't say your name or anything, just…"
Rick stepped forward, gripping Glenn's shoulders.
"Glenn, where is he?"
Glenn blinked, then offered a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "He's back at the camp, safe."
Rick breathed out a sigh of relief at hearing his brother, in all but blood, being safe.
Glenn went on, slower now, more careful.
…And he's not alone, he brought two people with him."
His heart skipped a beat.
"A boy and his mother."
His chest tightened painfully.
Rick's voice cracked when he spoke. "N-Names?"
Glenn hesitated for just a second, then gave a soft, almost apologetic nod.
"I don't remember their last names, but… their names are Lori and Carl."
The world stopped.
Rick staggered back a step as if he'd been punched, eyes wide.
He hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding on to that last thread of hope until it suddenly yanked taut.
His wife and son.
Alive.
He exhaled hard, almost choking on the sound, like all the breath had been knocked from his lungs.
His knees threatened to give out.
Alive.
The sheer relief nearly brought him to the floor.
Glenn watched him quietly, unsure if he should say more.
Hawk didn't move, but his masked head turned ever so slightly toward Rick, as if marking the weight of this moment.
Rick swallowed hard. His eyes were glassy, his voice low and trembling.
"Are you sure? You're sure it was them?"
Glenn nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I didn't get personally introduced, but I heard their names around camp, that's gotta be them, right?"
Rick didn't answer, he couldn't.
He just stood there, fists clenched at his sides, staring off into the distance with a look that was equal parts disbelief and bone-deep yearning.
It was real.
They were out there.
And now, nothing was going to stop him from getting to them.
_____
The warehouse buzzed softly with distant chatter and the occasional clank of tools on metal.
The hum of machinery and low radio static filled the space, but Leo stood still, staring at a spread-out map showing red circles and Xs marking key locations, some smudged, some crossed out entirely.
He had written down the names of people to find and remember.
Glenn, Hershel, Tyreese, Lee, Clementine, Kenny, and a dozen more, but the information felt scattered, like puzzle pieces from two different boxes.
His jaw clenched as his fingers hovered above the map, tracing invisible lines between known safehouses, abandoned hospitals, quarantine zones, and what used to be military checkpoints.
All places that were in his control.
Leo leaned over the table, supporting his weight on his knuckles, and tirelessly sighed.
The worst part? He had already sent out a search party.
Five groups of six men, each equipped with maps, encrypted radios, supplies, and strict orders to immediately report back to him if they found anyone.
But that was a long time ago.
No contact since.
He was now glaring at the map as if trying to intimidate it into giving up the answers he needed.
The thing was spread out across the surface of a metal table in the center of the warehouse's operations room, corners pinned by scavenged tools and pieces of broken concrete.
The problem wasn't that he didn't know where to look.
It was what he used to know.
All he had was blurred, scattered knowledge and guesses from a life before this one.
It didn't help that it came back in the form of nightmares.
But they were there, somewhere in his head, buried under the weight of survival, decisions, and a dozen lives depending on him daily.
Leo sighed to himself before turning to look at Atlanta, the place Rick and his men should have arrived at by now.
He had appointed Hawk to take the lead and given him a walkie-talkie to communicate with, the link between them not being anywhere near powerful enough for them to speak to each other.
Their mission should have been easy enough, guiding Rick to the city while trying to locate any of the original survivors from the show, simple.
But that was hours ago, and he had yet to hear back from them.
"They should've checked in by now," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Just as his worry peaked, his radio crackled with life.
"Leo, you copy?"
It was Hawk.
Leo snatched it up immediately. "I hear you, report."
"Had a minor mix-up when Rick spotted a chopper." He sounded less than pleased by that.
Leo felt a wave of relief and then worry.
"Is everyone alright?" he asked.
"Rick's beating himself up over it, but no injuries. We also picked up Glenn while escaping a horde."
Leo's eyes widened. "You found Glenn?"
"He led us back to his group, and we made contact with them. They're rough around the edges, but still standing."
Leo sank into a chair beside the map in relief.
"That's good," he murmured, sinking into a chair beside the map in relief. "That's really good."
Relief rushed in like a flood, but it was quickly tempered by concern when he finally processed what Hawk said.
"Wait, you said something about a chopper? And a horde!?"
There was a moment of hesitation before Hawk answered.
"A helicopter passed over the city, the same as canon. Rick spotted it and tried to draw its attention. Nearly cost us when it got the attention of a city full of walkers instead. Hound and Coco had to act as bait to lead the horde away."
Leo froze.
"...Are they–?"
"Alive," Hawk clarified. "We've lost contact, but he signaled a successful draw-off before going dark. We'll be retrieving him once we secure the group."
Leo nodded slowly, gripping the edge of the table.
They were made for this, built for this, but knowing one of them had been put in danger still gnawed at him despite that fact.
"And the rest?"
"They're fin–Well, besides Rick finding out about the shelters and having an emotional moment, and the fact that Glenn told him his family is back at their camp, along with Shane," Hawk mumbled awkwardly. "Other than him having an emotional roller coaster of a day, the group is scared as shit of us, but they're alright physically."
That got a tired smile out of Leo.
"We definitely weirded the hell out of them, huh?"
Hawk didn't respond, but Leo could practically hear the ghost of amusement on the other end.
"Right now, we're heading to their camp to get Rick's family back."
Nodding, Leo paused, his voice dropping low with emotion.
"Good work, Hawk. Get them back here safely, all of them."
"Understood."
The line clicked off.
Leo stood in silence for a few moments, staring at the radio as if expecting it to speak again, but it didn't.
Then he looked back at the map.
At the scattered names.
The dozens of pins and half-memories.
He straightened, renewed purpose in his posture as he walked over to a man wearing a red dragon mask.
"Send out the Hunters, expand zones six through eleven. I don't want to see a single damn walker five miles from us! We're stepping things up."
"Understood," he responded immediately, already moving to enact the command.
Leo returned to the map, dragging a red marker across a new section.
There was a fire burning in his eyes.
___
…
…
…
…
…
…
They were running low on food.
Lee Everett sat near the edge of their makeshift base, eyes scanning the dense underbrush beyond with tired eyes.
The forest was still, with the occasional birdsong, along with the wind threading through the dry branches and the occasional creak of tree limbs under their own weight.
It was thanks to Mark's supply of food that they made it this long, but unfortunately, it wasn't lasting as long as they hoped.
It had been three days since they'd last eaten anything substantial, and it was only thanks to a squirrel being unfortunate enough to get stuck in his room that they caught it at all.
It wasn't even that big of a squirrel either.
The squirrel barely fed three, and Lee had given it to Clementine without hesitation.
She hadn't asked, bless her heart, just quietly accepted it, even tried to offer him a piece.
He refused, of course, like he always did, but it was getting harder to lie to her.
Harder to look her in the eye and say "We'll be alright," when his own stomach felt like it was devouring itself.
The fire pit behind him crackled low, more for comfort than anything else.
The others were resting in a loose circle nearby, conserving what little strength they had.
Lilly and her father were silently staring at the fire, too hungry and tired to do anything else.
Kenny sat hunched over his knees, staring at his son in worry while his wife murmured softly to Duck, who had long since stopped complaining about being hungry, too hungry to do so.
That was the part that scared Lee most.
They weren't just hungry.
They were starving.
Lee exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes still locked on the treeline.
He was currently keeping watch, a hunting rifle resting across his lap, thinking about what he could do to fix their food shortage.
He was already doing everything he could.
Setting snares, checking trails, and foraging for anything edible from roots, wild berries, and mushrooms that didn't scream "poison" at first glance.
But the woods had been picked clean, and every critter that used to scamper through the underbrush was either dead, infected, or long gone.
His thoughts drifted to Clementine.
She was probably asleep now, trying to sleep off the hunger.
Lee sighed, feeling bad for the poor girl.
She still held onto that walkie-talkie, even though it hadn't buzzed with life for months.
He didn't have the heart to take it away.
A sweet girl like her shouldn't be living like this.
Shouldn't have to live in fear, in hunger… of not knowing when the next day might be her last.
He hated seeing that light in her eyes dim, flicker, like a candle burning low.
Lee raked a hand down his face, scrubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. His beard was thicker now, more ragged. His clothes hung looser on his frame.
He was losing weight fast, and so were the others.
They couldn't keep going like this.
Lilly was getting more snappish, even to her own father, muttering under her breath at night when she thought no one could hear.
Kenny and Katjaa were fighting more often, but it was never anything serious, just hunger getting the better of them. And their son, who was usually too full of energy, barely spoke unless spoken to.
Clementine… she'd asked him the other day if they were going to die.
He didn't know how to answer her.
"Not if I can help it,"he told her, putting on a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
But inside, the fear was gnawing at him just as much as the hunger.
Worse than the ache in his stomach was the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders.
He couldn't let these people down.
Couldn't let her down.
Lee looked up at the dull gray sky, clouds loomed heavy overhead.
Just more cold, more hunger, more silence.
How much longer can they last like this?
He didn't have an answer.
But he knew one thing: he had to keep trying.
For Clementine.
For all of them.
He stood with a grunt, slinging the gun over his shoulder and grabbing his small pack.
He glanced back toward the fire, where Kenny and Katjaa were murmuring in low tones, and gave a slight nod towards him when they noticed him.
"I'm gonna check the snares," he told them in case he doesn't make it back.
No one argued against it.
They never did anymore, not after everything they went through.
"Stay safe out there, Lee, don't let the walkers bite." Kenny joked weakly, getting a playful slap from his wife.
"I will." He smiled at the couple, it seemed they had made up again.
"Please bring something back, we really need some food, our food supply is running too low for any of us to really get a full stomach." Lilly pleaded, her hands shaking and stomach growling.
Usually, her father would make a snide comment at him, but even he couldn't scrounge up the energy to do so.
As he was about to head into the woods, he clung to the same fragile hope that had kept him moving day after day.
That somewhere out there, there was food, help, and safety.
Something.
Anything.
Because if not… they wouldn't last another we—
Rumble!
The low rumble of engines echoed through the woods like distant thunder.
At first, Lee thought it was just his stomach again, but no.
Not a growl of hunger, but of machines.
Engines.
He froze, eyes narrowing as he tilted his head to listen. The fire crackled behind him, but the noise was getting louder.
The others began to notice, too.
Mark sat upright, his eyes wide. "Y—you hear that?"
"I hear it," Lee said, voice tight.
"Is that… a car?" Katjaa whispered, clutching Duck a little tighter.
Her voice was filled with something between fear and hope.
Lilly shot to her feet. "Everyone, up! Now!"
The camp burst into motion.
People scrambling to their feet, looking toward the street like they expected it to part open and reveal whatever it was.
Larry stood slowly, his usual grumbling replaced with silence, eyes locked toward the sound with the grim seriousness of a man ready to fight or run.
"Could be raiders," he said. "Or worse."
"Or it could be help," Carley muttered, hand already resting on her sidearm. "I hope it's help."
"What do you see, Lee?" Kenny asked, rising to his feet and backing toward the RV, eyes searching around like he might spot salvation.
Lee didn't answer right away.
He had climbed on top of the RV while everyone else was panicking and was currently trying to see where the sound came from.
The wind tugged at his coat, and the treetops swayed beneath a thick, gray sky. But that wasn't what he was focused on.
Down the long stretch of cracked, weed-choked road, there they were.
Two military-style Hummers.
Big, armored, matte green, as they tore up the path toward the old motel.
Lee's breath caught in his throat.
They weren't just passing by.
They were coming here.
The sight was surreal, something pulled from another life, before the fall, before everything turned to rot and walkers.
"What is it?" Lilly called up to him from below.
Lee didn't respond at first.
Just stared, stunned.
Kenny cupped his hands around his mouth. "Lee! What the hell do you see!?"
Lee swallowed.
"Two Hummers," he called back. "Military ones."
That hit the group like a bolt of lightning.
"Military!?" Katjaa gasped. "Are you serious!?"
"Oh my God," Carley breathed, visibly shaken.
"They found us," Kenny said, his voice climbing with excitement. "Holy shit! They actually found us!"
"Food…" Larry muttered under his breath. "They might have food."
Lilly was too stunned to make a comment.
Excitement sparked through the camp like fire on dry leaves.
Hope.
Raw, desperate, beautiful hope.
Even Duck lifted his head, eyes bright for the first time in days.
Lee began to pray for the first time in a long time.
Please let this be real.
Please let it be over.
The vehicles slowed, tires crunching over gravel and broken glass as they rolled to a stop just a few feet in front of the old motel lot.
The noise died.
Silence descended.
Every single person in the group held their breath, some smiling in relief, others still tense and unsure.
Doors open.
Lee stayed crouched on the RV, rifle gripped tight in his hands as he scanned the scene.
Then, from the driver's side of the lead vehicle, a figure stepped out.
And the hope twisted.
Because it wasn't a soldier in camouflage.
It was a man in black combat armor, sleek and precise, and on his face…
A mask.
Not just any mask.
A smooth, crimson-painted dragon mask with piercing, inhuman black eyes and curved fangs etched along the jawline.
Lee's stomach dropped.
The mask turned, slowly, staring down every soul without a word.
And for a moment, nobody spoke.
Nobody breathed.