Kenny's voice exploded from the walkie: "THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU STILL DOING THERE? GET YOUR ASS OUT NOW!"
Static crackled in the heavy silence that followed. Kenny's grip turned white-knuckled around the radio, his other hand raking through his beard as the seconds stretched. Around him at the motel, the others froze mid-step - Lilly's mouth set in a thin line, Carley's fingers tightening around her pistol grip.
Then Lee's voice came through, absurdly calm:"I told you I was lactose intolerant before, right?"
Kenny's face twisted through stages of rage, confusion, and sheer disbelief. "THE FUCK DOES THAT—" He caught himself, veins bulging at his temples. "Just get off that goddamn farm! You hearing me, Lee? LEE?!"
More silence. The walkie spat empty static.
"GODDAMN IT!" Kenny reared back to hurl the radio at the pavement—stopped himself at the last second—and instead drove his fist into the RV with a hollow bang. A dull ache shot through his hand.
"Kenny!" Lilly rushed over, rifle clutched tight against her chest. "What the hell's happening?"
"What's happening?" Kenny's voice boomed across the parking lot, drawing wide-eyed stares from the group. "Lee's stuck on that goddamn farm with a bunch of cannibals!"
The word hung in the air like gunpowder. Carley's hand flew to her mouth. Duck whimpered and hid behind Katjaa.
"Cannibals?" Carley's brow furrowed. "How can he be sure?"
Kenny stabbed a finger toward the truck where David writhed, the bloody bear trap finally wrenched from his leg. "Normal traps got release latches. These?" His boot kicked the twisted metal. "Serrated teeth, reinforced springs—built to keep folks trapped." A vein pulsed in his temple. "Lee's right. This ain't hunting gear. It's fucking dinnerware."
Larry shouldered through the group with his trademark sneer. "So some rednecks modify their traps and suddenly they're cannibals? Christ, you're paranoid."
Kenny's hands twitched toward Larry's throat before he caught himself.
Lilly's eyes narrowed in thought. "The timing's too convenient. They showed up right after we brought David and Ben back." Her gaze flicked to Ben, who paled under the attention.
Ben's voice cracked. "Y-You don't mean—"
"Damn right I do!" Kenny snatched up his rifle, chambering a round with practiced efficiency. "We find these two screaming in the woods, and suddenly Saint John's Dairy Delivery shows up offering us food?" His laugh held no humor. "They were coming for their trapped dinner. We just got there first."
"So what do we do? Lee's still out there." Carley's grip tightened on her pistol as she stared into the dark tree line, imagining horrors.
Lilly's fingers froze on her rifle magazine. "Wait—if Lee thought they were eating people, why didn't he just leave? That doesn't add up."
"'Cause he's full of shit!" Larry barked, face flushing red. "Open your damn eyes, Lilly!"
Carley stepped forward, her jaw set. "Lee's never lied to this group. Some of us actually value that."
"Oh, spare me," Larry sneered. "Just 'cause you're batting those lashes at him now doesn't mean we forgot about Doug. Hell of a way to move on, huh?"
"Dad—" Lilly grabbed his arm, but he shook her off.
Suddenly, Kenny shoved Larry hard enough to make him stagger. "Shut your goddamn mouth! Doug was bit and chose his way out. Lee just had the stones to help him—same as you were ready to do with Duck!" His finger jabbed into Larry's chest. "So take your double standards and—"
"Ooh, big speech!" Larry mocked, wiping spittle from his face. "Funny how you're always deep-throating Lee's—"
Kenny's fist connected with a sick crack. Larry reeled but came back swinging, his wild punch grazing Kenny's temple and sending him stumbling.
"ENOUGH!" Lilly wedged herself between them, rifle raised sideways like a barricade. The standoff held—until rustling foliage made everyone freeze.
A figure burst from the treeline.
"Open the fucking gate!" Mark collapsed against the fence, his basket spilling a few berries, his shirt dark with sweat. The gate clanged open just as he doubled over, gasping—
—only to look up and find Kenny's walkie-talkie pointed at him like an accusation.
"Lee told us," Kenny said flatly.
Mark's face fell. The berries scattered at his feet might as well have been his dignity. He'd run himself ragged... while Lee had the radio the whole damn time.
Clem's small voice cut through the silence: "Is Lee in trouble?"
Kenny knelt, his grip firm but gentle on her shoulder. "Hey. Your Lee's tougher than railroad nails." He forced a grin. "We'll make damn sure he comes back to you, promise."
As Katjaa led the kids away, Kenny's smile faded. His eyes locked with Lilly's over the barrel of her still-raised rifle.
"These people don't know we're onto them," Lilly said, checking her pistol's magazine with practiced hands. "We keep it that way. Get in, grab Lee, and get the hell out—eyes open the whole time."
Kenny gave a sharp nod, tightening the straps on his backpack. "Damn straight."
Mark finally caught his breath, holding up the basket. "They've got enough food there to last us weeks. This?" He shook the container, berries tumbling over fresh-baked bread. "Just scraps from their table."
Lilly took the basket, her stomach growling at the sight. She distributed portions quickly, her fingers lingering on the bread's crust—still faintly warm. The group devoured it like starving animals, all except Larry.
"You suggesting we steal from these folks?" Larry's lip curled like he'd tasted something rotten. "That what we are now? Thieves?"
Kenny stepped into his space. "Got sympathy for cannibals now, old man?" When Larry didn't answer, Kenny turned to the group. "Someone's gotta hold down the fort."
"I want no part in this." Larry snatched his rifle and stomped toward the RV, muttering about "lost damn morals" as he climbed onto the roof.
Ben shuffled forward. "I-I'll stay with Mr. Parker." He flinched when Kenny's calloused hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"Listen, kid." Kenny's voice dropped low. "I'd trust a rabid racoon more'n that blowhard." He jerked his chin toward Larry's perch. "You keep my family safe, hear?"
Ben swallowed hard, then straightened. "You got it. I won't let you down."
Kenny studied him for a beat before nodding. As the others checked weapons and supplies, Lilly crouched by the treeline, her eyes tracking the path ahead. The fading light painted long shadows across the forest floor—perfect cover for what came next.
"Mark, lead the way. Move quiet," she whispered. "And if anything smells even a little off..." She lifted her rifle. The silence said everything.
One by one, they vanished into the trees, Lee's name unspoken but hanging heavy in the air between them.
---
Lee tugged at his sweat-dampened collar as the Georgia sun beat down on his back. He moved methodically along the farm's perimeter, his axe dragging lightly through the tall grass. Three charred walkers already lay disposed of in the ditch beyond the fence—each one given a wide berth and a cautious prod with his axe handle before being pushed over.
"Still watching me like a hawk..." Lee muttered, catching the glint of sunlight off binoculars from the farmhouse window. Andy's surveillance was obvious, but Lee's attention remained fixed on the tree line ahead. Any moment now.
Then he saw it—a walker, blackened as burnt timber, slumped over the fence like a macabre scarecrow. Its weight had bowed the wire nearly to the ground. Lee glanced toward the house, then the forest beyond. Nothing moved among the pines.
"Here goes nothing."
In one fluid motion, Lee vaulted the fence—and immediately broke into a sprint. He hit the tree line in three strides and dove into the underbrush, rolling behind a thick oak. Heart pounding, he army-crawled deeper into the shadows, the forest floor's damp leaves muffling his movements.
Just as he predicted, the crunch of boots on dry pine needles sounded within minutes. Lee held his breath as three figures emerged from the deeper woods, their silhouettes sharp against the afternoon sun.
"There's the damn farm," spat the lead bandit, a bearded man with shades, cap and a crossbow slung across his back. "Bastards went back on the deal. Time we educated 'em."
A woman hidng behind a bandana hefted a machete, the blade catching the light. "I'll put an arrow through their lying tongues first. Then we take what's ours."
The third—a gaunt man with sunken eyes—licked cracked lips. "That fat bitch in the kitchen'll do just fine. Ain't pretty, but she'll scream all the same."
Lee's knuckles whitened around the axe handle as the bandits' laughter coiled through the trees like poison. Every vile word confirmed what he'd suspected since witnessing them murder one of their own over a meager argument. And now they spoke of rape with the same casual cruelty. Animals. Worse than animals.
Pressing his back against a mossy pine, Lee forced his breathing to slow. The elevated position gave him the advantage as he raised the crossbow. The gaunt man's throat bloomed red before he could finish his sentence, the arrow transforming his words into wet, choking gasps.
[Bart Veach Killed. Reward: Stealth (LV. 1)]
"Contact! Get to cover!" The leader's shout came too late. Lee's second bolt punched through his thigh as he dove, pinning his leg to the ground like a butterfly specimen. The man's scream sent crows scattering from the treetops.
"This is for our farm!" Lee bellowed, already reloading.
"I see him!" The woman moved like a striking viper—her arrow grazed Lee's cheek before he registered the twang of her bowstring. Then she was on him, machete flashing silver in the dappled light. Steel shrieked against steel as Lee parried, the impact vibrating up his arms. A brutal kick sent her sprawling into the leaf litter, just in time to see the yawning darkness of his shotgun barrel.
BANG!
[Linda Perry Killed. Reward: Tracking (Lv. 1)]
The forest fell silent. What remained of her head painted the autumn leaves in abstract crimson.
"You picked the wrong fucking farm," Lee growled at the last bandit as he limped backward, his face a mask of pain and fury. Blood soaked his pant leg where the bolt still protruded.
"I'll burn this place to the ground!" he spat, vanishing into the undergrowth. A trail of scarlet droplets marked his retreat.
Lee knew the charade was over, he didn't need to act like an occupant of the farm. The St. Johns would take the blame regardless—but letting even one of these monsters escape wasn't an option. He moved like a shadow between the trees, following the rustling and ragged breaths.
The clearing gave him a clean shot. The shotgun roared again, shredding the bandit's back into raw meat. Still, the bastard crawled forward, fingers clawing at roots and dirt, his breath coming in wet, desperate gasps.
Lee stepped on his wrist, the bone snapping like dry kindling. The axe hovered above his neck, sunlight glinting along its edge.
"You son of a bi—"
The blade fell with a butcher's precision. Silence reclaimed the woods.
[Gary Richwood Killed. Reward: Markmanship (Lv.1 -> Lv.2)]
Lee looked a tthe skills he had gained, and even his level up in marksmanships and fell into a momnet of euphoria as the knwoeldge flooded his mind on all of them. In the end these guys had been useful for his survival, which was the most these bandits could ever do.
The rustling undergrowth made Lee snap his shotgun up—only to lower it as familiar faces emerged from the trees. Kenny led the group, his rifle dropping first when he saw the scene: Lee standing over a headless corpse, axe still dripping.
"Christ, Lee." Kenny whistled, toeing the body with his boot. "This one ain't gonna be winnin' no beauty contests."
Lilly and Carley moved forward, weapons half-raised. The stench of fresh blood hung thick in the humid air. Carley's nose wrinkled as she took in the carnage, Lilly's eyes darted to the treeline, and Mark trained his eyes on the bloody axe.
"Who was this?" Lilly asked, finger resting alongside her rifle's trigger guard.
Lee didn't answer immediately. He knelt, pulled the screwdriver from his pocket, and drove it through the corpse's temple with a wet crunch. The body jerked once before stilling. "Bandits," he said, wiping the tool clean on the dead man's shirt. "Three of them. They were scouting the farm when I found them."
Kenny spat near the corpse's feet. "Bastard got what he deserved." He turned to Lilly. "These the same shitbirds Ben's group ran into?"
"Could be." Lilly's gaze swept the forest. "Lee—any more out there?"
Lee glanced toward the farm, then the blood trail leading deeper into the woods. "Two more bodies that way. But they mentioned a whole group holed up at the Macon Save-Lots." The lie came easily—because it wasn't entirely a lie.
Kenny clapped Lee's shoulder hard enough to make him stagger. "Three less scumbags breathin'. That's a damn good start."
Carley stepped closer and produced a bandage from her pocket, fingers gentle as she pressed it to the arrow graze on Lee's cheek. "You could've gotten yourself killed," she murmured, low enough that only he could hear. The warmth of her fingertips contrasted with the steel in her voice. "Next time, wait for backup."
Lee met her gaze, recognizing the concern beneath the scolding. He gave a small nod—not quite an agreement, but an acknowledgment.