Lee's eyes fluttered open as morning sunlight streamed through the motel window, painting stripes of gold across the rumpled sheets. He sat up with a groan, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he glanced at the adjacent bed. The quilt lay tossed aside in a hurried departure, the indent of a small body still visible in the mattress.
"Guess she's already up," he muttered through a yawn, stretching until his shoulders popped.
He dressed methodically - his usual worn shirt and jeans, now topped with a brown leather jacket that creaked faintly as he moved. The shotgun and fireaxe leaning against the bedframe caught his eye; he gave each a habitual once-over before stepping into the daylight.
The sudden brightness hit like a physical blow. "Damn," he hissed, throwing up a hand as his eyes watered. Through the glare, he could make out Clementine's small form crouched near the sidewalk, her tongue poking out in concentration as crayons scattered around her.
He'd barely taken a step toward her when a solid mass of muscle and bad attitude plowed into his shoulder.
"Watch it, man."
Larry whirled, his perpetual scowl deepening. "Don't get in my way then," he growled, starting to stomp off before Lee's muttered "Fucking asshole" stopped him dead.
The older man turned with terrifying slowness. "I heard that, you little shit-" His tirade cut off as Lilly emerged from her room, her disapproving glare hitting her father like a physical force.
"I dunno what lies you've fed my daughter," Larry spat, jabbing a finger at Lee, "but I told you day one to stay the hell away from her."
Lee's smirk came easy. "And I told you I got no reason to. Not like you can hold my past over me anymore - everybody knows now."
Larry's lip curled. "You might've sugarcoated it for them," he leaned in close, rancid breath hot against Lee's face, "but I see you clear as day. And so did Doug... right before you caved his skull in."
The words landed like a sucker punch, dragging Lee back to that moonlit moment - the sickening crunch of bone, the way Doug's blood has splattered across the pavement. Grief and rage warred in his chest, but before he could retort-
"Dad, Mark needs help with the fence. Think you could lend him a hand?" Lilly called out, gesturing to where the newest member of their group struggled to align warped boards in the Georgia heat.
Larry shot Lee one last withering glare before shouldering past him. "Sure thing, sweetheart." His boots crunched deliberately over Lee's shadow as he stomped away.
Once he was out of earshot, Lilly exhaled through her nose. "Look, Lee... I've talked to Dad until I'm blue in the face. He's stuck in his ways."
Lee had lost count of how many "disagreements" he had with Larry. "Don't sweat it." The lie tasted bitter—another week of this and he might just—
"Kenny's got the guns ready," Lilly said, nodding toward the parking lot where Katjaa was loading supplies. "It's you, Mark, and him for the hunt today. Come back with something better than squirrel this time."
Lee adjusted his holster. "Count on it."
"God knows we need it." Lilly's smile didn't reach her eyes as she ascended the RV to be on lookout duty.
The weight of empty stomachs settled on Lee's shoulders as he crossed the courtyard. Clementine sat cross-legged under the motel's broken awning, her tongue poking out in concentration as crayons scattered around her like shrapnel.
Lee crouched beside her. "Who's this colorful crew?" He lifted a paper where a lopsided root vegetable grinned back at him.
"Beet-Nick." Clementine announced, then proudly displayed another drawing—a broad-shouldered man in blue holding an axe, his free hand clasping a tiny figure in a baseball cap. "And this is us."
Something warm bloomed behind Lee's ribs. He traced the crude outline of Clementine's stick-figure self. "This one's going on our wall, superstar."
Clem beamed, then thrust a fresh sheet at him. "Give me something new to draw."
Lee scanned the motel—the peeling paint, the rusted swing set, Kenny arguing with Katjaa by the truck while Duck danced around them waving a stick.
"How about the Duck Family Special?" He grinned as Clem's eyes lit up. "Bet they'd trade their best rations for a Clementine original."
Clem's brow furrowed in sudden seriousness. She selected a dark brown crayon like a surgeon choosing a scalpel. "I'll make Duck's hair extra sticky-uppy."
As her tiny hand flew across the paper, Lee memorized the moment—the way afternoon light caught in her curls, the smudge of cerulean on her cheek. These were the treasures worth protecting.
Not wanting to disturb Clementine's concentration, Lee slipped away quietly. He found Kenny and Katjaa near the motel's broken sign, their voices tense but hushed.
"I'm tellin' you, this place'll be a death trap in two weeks tops!" Kenny jabbed a finger toward the rusting RV stranded in the parking lot. "That rig's our only shot."
Katjaa wrapped her arms tightly around herself, her eyes scanning the perimeter fence where Duck had nearly been bitten just days before. "And go where, Kenny? Florida might as well be on another planet now."
"I don't have all the answers!" Kenny's hands trembled as he adjusted his cap. "But I know we can't keep scraping by like this. When was the last time Duck had a full meal? When did any of us?"
Lee saw Katjaa's fingers dig into her sleeves as she stared at the bloodstains on her son's favorite shirt - forever immortalising that day. The memory of scrubbing walker gore from the fabric made her voice waver. "I just... after what almost happened to Duck..."
Kenny's shoulders slumped. He reached out, then let his hand fall. "Christ, baby, I know." His voice dropped to a rough whisper. "Every time I close my eyes, I see it too. That's why I need us ready when this place goes belly up - next time we might not be so lucky."
Lee approached as the couple's tense body language began to ease. "Everything alright here?"
Kenny wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "Just... planning ahead." His eyes flicked upward, narrowing as he spotted Lilly watching them from the RV's rooftop perch. "There's our glorious leader, fucking Stalin."
Lee followed his gaze, sighing. "Come on, Kenny. You two still butting heads?"
"Damn right we are," Kenny snapped, wrenching his cap around like he wanted to strangle something. "Queen of the damn food pantry over there, rationing our supplies while her daddy dearest sits on his ass. 'Health issues' my ass." He practically spat the words, fingers clawing the air with contempt. "Funny how that don't stop him from eating his full share every night."
Lee stepped between Kenny and Lilly's line of sight. "Well, nothing solves frustration like a successful hunt." He patted the rifle slung across his back. "Might even come back with a buffet."
A slow, wolfish grin spread across Kenny's face. "Now you're speaking my language." He grabbed two hunting rifles from the truck bed, tossing one to Lee with practiced ease. "Let's see who catches more, you or me."
"You're on." Lee caught it smoothly, glancing back at Clementine - now showing her drawings to Carley - before nodding to Mark. He remebred to run back and grab his trusty axe before he set off. The three men moved toward the tree line, the unspoken weight of their empty stomachs driving them forward.
"I'm gonna split off," Kenny said, adjusting his grip on his hunting rifle. "See if I can scare up anything on the east ridge. Happy hunting, boys." He gave a mock salute before disappearing into the underbrush.
Lee and Mark continued their slow advance through the Georgia pines, the afternoon sun filtering through the needled branches. Three months since the motel. Three months of watching their supplies dwindle faster than anyone had predicted. Mark's initial stockpile - which had seemed so generous when he joined them a month ago - was nearly gone.
"Christ, my stomach thinks my throat's been cut," Mark grumbled, pressing a hand against his growling abdomen. The unspoken question hung between them - how bad are our stores really?
Lee scanned the treeline as he answered. "There's not enough. We've got medicine coming out our ears, but no one to trade with." His finger rested alongside the trigger guard of his rifle, not on it - a new habit of his. "Whole world's starving together."
"Yeah, real shame," Mark muttered, squinting at the canopy. "Maybe we'll get lucky. Spot a deer or something before -"
"- before the walkers get to it first," Lee finished. A dry chuckle. They'd both seen too many carcasses picked clean by the dead.
Mark kicked at a pinecone. "Kenny's talking about taking that RV. Can't say I blame him, the way Lilly and her old man run things."
Lee adjusted his grip on his rifle. "Family comes first. Especially now."
"That's the damn truth," Mark snorted. "Larry's a piece of work. I get why he's got a bug up his ass about you, but the way he talked to Kenny last night?" He shook his head. "Guy's begging for a punch in the mouth."
"Careful," Lee smirked. "Don't want to get him all worked up. You know..." He mimed clutching his chest.
Mark barked a laugh -
Flutter.
Both men dropped behind a moss-covered log as wings beat the air above them. A fat raven perched on a low branch, cocking its head.
Mark slowly raised his rifle, then paused. "Your shot."
Lee nodded, settling the stock against his shoulder. One breath. Two. The crack of the rifle sent birds scattering from nearby trees.
The raven dropped like a stone.
"Small fry," Lee said, retrieving the limp body. The feathers were still warm. "But it's something."
Mark clapped him on the shoulder. "Few more of those and we might actually sleep tonight without our stomachs howling."
A blood-curdling scream shattered the forest's silence. Both men froze - that agonized wail carried on the wind like a wounded animal's death cry.
"Kenny?" Mark's voice cracked.
Lee was already moving, boots pounding the earth before the echo faded. "Only one way to know!" he shouted over his shoulder as Mark scrambled to follow.
They crashed through the underbrush, branches whipping at their arms as they followed the fading screams. Bursting into a small clearing, Lee skidded to a stop - the scene before him clicking into place with terrible clarity.
A middle-aged man writhed on the leaf-strewn ground, his right leg grotesquely pinned in the rusted jaws of a bear trap. Blood pooled in the dirt, black in the fading light. Two teenage boys in matching blue-and-white jerseys stood paralyzed nearby, their faces masks of horror.
So this is Ben. Lee's stomach dropped as he rushed forward.
The boys recoiled like spooked deer at Lee's approach. Travis - the smaller one - raised trembling hands in surrender. "P-please... we just—" His voice cracked like dry kindling. "D-don't hurt us..."
Lee brushed past without hesitation, his focus locked on the rusted metal teeth sunk deep into the teacher's ankle. "Mark! Check for a release!"
Mark dropped to his knees, fingers probing the blood-slicked mechanism. "Jesus—it hasn't got one!" He wiped his hands on his pants, leaving dark smears. "Someone modified this thing."
Brush crashed behind them as Kenny barreled into the clearing, shotgun raised. "Lee! The hell's goin'—"
"Help us! Please!" Ben's plea cut through the chaos, his tear-streaked face turned up to Kenny like a supplicant. Travis shoved him hard.
"Shut your mouth, dumbass!" Travis hissed, eyes darting between the armed men. "These could be the same pricks who hit our camp!"
Lee tuned out their argument, following the chain to its anchor point—a thick padlock securing it to a nearby oak. He swung his fire axe with a grunt. Metal shrieked.
"Clock's tickin', Lee!" Kenny's shotgun roared, painting the trees with walker brains. "Got a whole damn parade headin' our way!"
The axe came down again. Again. With a final, satisfying crunch, the lock gave way.
"Mark! Grab him, trap and all!" Lee barked.
As Mark hefted the moaning teacher fireman-style, a wet gurgle cut through the gunfire. Lee spun to see Travis scrambling backward—straight into a walker's clutching hands.
"TRAVIS!" Ben's scream tore at his throat.
The boy went down hard. Two more corpses piled on, their yellowed teeth sinking into his shoulder. Travis's shrieks rose to a fever pitch—
—then cut off abruptly as Lee's bullet punched through his forehead.
[Travis Barkman killed. Reward: Russian Language (Lv 1)]
Knowledge flooded Lee's mind—Cyrillic letters, guttural pronunciations—as Ben collapsed to his knees. "H-he...Trav..."
No time for grief. Lee seized Ben's collar and hauled him up. "Run or die!"
The group burst through the final line of trees like hunted animals, their boots kicking up clods of damp earth. Behind them, the chorus of wet groans grew louder - close enough now to hear the snapping of twigs under rotting feet.
Lee's lungs burned as the motel's fortified fence loomed ahead. Through the chain links, he saw Lilly's silhouette jerk upright atop the RV's roof, her rifle swinging toward them in alarm. The afternoon sun glinted off her scope as it locked onto the approaching threat behind them.
"Open the goddamn gate!" Kenny bellowed, half-dragging Ben by his collar. The teenager stumbled along in shock, his sneakers catching on roots as he kept turning back toward the woods where his friend had fallen.
Lilly's voice cracked like a whip: "What the hell did you bring back with you?" Even as she shouted, the gate hinges screamed - Carley and Katjaa were already heaving it open just wide enough for their desperate retreat.
Lee shoved Mark and the bleeding teacher through first, the bear trap's chain clanking against the pavement. He spun to cover their retreat, his rifle barking three sharp reports that dropped the nearest walkers in sprays of blackened gore.
The fence rattled shut just as the first decayed hands slapped against the metal. A dozen rotting faces pressed against the links, their milky eyes rolling hungrily as fingers clawed at the air between survival and starvation.
Lilly jumped down from the RV, her face a mask of fury and fear. "You stupid sons of bitches! You led them right to us!" Her finger jabbed at the writhing mass at the gate before turning on the sobbing teenager. "And who the hell is this?"