Lee stood frozen, watching as the last flicker of life drained from the Stranger's eyes. The man he was most worried about now lay broken beneath a writhing mass of walkers, their blackened fingers tearing through his abdomen like butchers at work. Ribs cracked like kindling as they pulled steaming organs free, their decayed teeth mashing the flesh with wet, squelching noises.
[Joe Reacher Killed. Reward: Butchering (Lv. 1)]
A cold rush of knowledge flooded Lee's mind - precise knife angles for skinning, techniques to separate muscle from bone without waste, the exact pressure needed to peel hide cleanly. Diagrams of animal anatomies superimposed themselves over his vision: deer, boar, bird, even human.
Lee took a measured step back as more walkers piled into the room, their decaying bodies tripping over the feeding frenzy. One landed inches from the Stranger's head, its bloody nails immediately raking across his face, peeling back flesh like rind from fruit.
Time to go.
He moved to the decoy, wrenching the arrow free with a sickening pop. The wristwatch strapped to its shaft had gone silent, its alarm having served its purpose. Lee wiped the gore off on his jeans before pocketing it.
Carley waited by the doorway, her face unreadable in the dim light. She held up their prizes: a bulging duffel bag in one hand, the yellow walkie-talkie in the other. She grinned and gestured to the door, her meaning unmistakable.
Lee answered with a nod, leading them into the hallway. They moved like ghosts through the chaos, walkers shambling past without a glance, drawn by the sound of the recent carnage behind them. The feast and guts that still covered them would keep the dead distracted long enough for their escape.
They slipped down the stairwell and out the front entrance, moving as silently as mice through the dwindling horde. Every rotting face that turned their way sent Lee's heart into a paroxysm of dread, but the walkers remained passive due to the gore that drenched them. Only when they rounded the corner did they dare exhale, the tension in their shoulders easing slightly.
"It's done," Carley breathed, her eyes still scanning the street. She gestured to the rusted fire escape. "Let's get off ground level before we celebrate."
Lee secured the watch back on his wrist with a quiet click. "One less problem," he agreed, following her up the metal steps. The rhythmic clanging of their boots echoed through the empty alleyway. "Now we can focus on what matters - getting that boat on water."
The moment they reached the rooftop, the air around them finally became less strained. Carley dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud, fingers already working the zipper.
"Jesus Christ!" She recoiled so violently she nearly toppled backward.
Lee was at her side in an instant, his hand freezing mid-reach. The severed walker head stared up at them with milky, unblinking eyes, its lips still twitching weakly. A rancid stench wafted from the bag.
"That son of a bitch was carrying this around?" Lee's voice was tight with disgust. "What kind of twisted—"
Carley already had her hammer drawn. "I've got it." With a kick of the bag, she sent the head rolling across the rooftop before bringing the tool down in a crushing arc. The skull collapsed like a rotten pumpkin.
Carley wiped her hands on her jeans with a shudder. "There's more in here," she muttered, shaking the duffel bag upside down. A roll of duct tape clattered to the rooftop, followed by a dented can of peaches. A single photograph fluttered face-down to the ground.
Lee knelt, his fingers hesitating before flipping it over. The image hit him like a punch to the gut - Joe Reacher, alive and smiling, his arm around a beaming woman. Two children grinned up at the camera, their front teeth missing. A familiar car in the background. A family snapshot. A life before the world ended.
"Lee?" Carley took a step closer.
His fist clenched around the photo before she could see. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he sent it spiraling over the rooftop's edge, watching as the wind carried it into the alley's shadows below.
"Just some junk," Lee lied, pushing down the pang of guilt as the crumpled photo vanished into the darkness below them. He reached for the walkie. "Clem? You read me?"
"Loud and clear!" Her voice crackled with youthful energy. "Did you and Carley finish your grown-up stuff?"
Lee exhaled slowly, watching the Marsh House's silhouette against the bright sky. "All done. Heading back now." He hesitated. "We passed the Marsh House on the way."
Her breath hitched audibly through the static. "Were my—are they there?" The hope in her voice was almost painful.
Lee's grip tightened on the radio. "I don't know what they look like, sweet pea. We'll check together once the boat's ready, okay?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Carley's eyebrows shoot up.
"Promise?" Clem's voice was suddenly small.
"Promise." The word tasted like ash.
there was a small pause before Clem voiced,"You should probably get here quickly, Kenny seems mad..."
Lee paused, then understood—Kenny must have realized the boat was broken. Without parts to fix it, they weren't going anywhere.
Lee exchanged a look with Carley. "We're on our way. We won't be long." Lee met Carley's gaze as the walkie clicked off. The weight of his promise settled between them like something tangible.
"You're really going to take her into that death trap?" Carley's voice was low, urgent. "One slip, one bit of noise, and she's—"
"It won't happen." Lee looked down at their gore-streaked jackets, the rancid armor that had saved them. "If this is what she needs to know the truth... to say goodbye properly..." His jaw tightened. "I won't let her spend years wondering."
Carley stepped into his line of sight. "You think seeing them like that will help? She's eight, Lee. That image will burn itself into her brain forever."
Lee unfolded the map with deliberate movements. "It's simple, not easy." His finger traced their route back as he spoke. "Yes, it'll haunt her. But so would never knowing." He looked up, meeting Carley's eyes. "At least this way she gets closure. More than most get these days."
Carley exhaled sharply through her nose, the sound carrying all her unspoken objections. She turned toward the next rooftop, pausing just long enough to glance back over her shoulder. "I don't like it, but like I said at the farm," her voice softened, "I'll walk that road with you. I'll be there for her."
A genuine smile tugged at Lee's lips as he watched her silhouette against the fading light.
The boat repairs would be difficult enough, but what awaited them when they returned? That would shatter Clementine's world. Yet as he watched Carley ready herself for the next jump, Lee felt something unfamiliar - the quiet comfort of knowing he'd not be the only one putting the pieces back together.
He launched himself across the gap, the impact sending a jolt through his healing shoulder. One ordeal at a time. For now, they had a boat to rebuild.
---
Clementine carefully switched off the walkie, her fingers lingering on the power button for a moment before tucking it into her backpack. As she organized her belongings, her hand brushed against a folded piece of paper - her prized drawing from the motor inn. She unfolded it gently, tracing the crayon lines depicting her and Lee standing side by side, their stick-figure hands clasped together.
"That's beautiful, sweetheart," Katjaa said, kneeling beside her. The veterinarian's eyes softened as she took in the childish but heartfelt artwork. "Did Lee say how long until they return?"
"They're coming now so they shouldn't be too long," Clementine replied, carefully refolding the drawing along its well-worn creases before placing it back in her bag like a treasured secret. Her gaze drifted to the shed door where Kenny stood silhouetted against the afternoon light, his shoulders tense as he stared at the broken boat. "Is the boat not gonna work?"
"Don't you worry," Katjaa said, guiding Clementine toward the living area with a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "That man could make an engine sing with just a wrench and some choice words." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she glanced toward the shed.
In the living room, Duck sat cross-legged on the floor, his mouth creased into a frown as he focused on sounding out words from a tattered children's book. Nearby, Mark and David slumped in armchairs, their faces drawn with exhaustion.
Mark ran a hand through his greasy hair. "Kenny says it's scrap metal without a new battery. After everything... Christ." The chair creaked as he sank deeper into it.
David stared at the ceiling. "It won't be easy to find a battery lying around. Every survivor with half a brain would've stripped the boats left at the river clean by now." He rubbed his bad leg absently. "Might be we walked into a dead end."
Mark's hands clenched into fists on his knees. "So what's plan B? Just wander inland until we hit another dead end?" His voice cracked with frustration. "We all knew this was a long shot. Might've wasted our last good chance on a fantasy."
David dragged his palms down his face, the stubble rasping against his calloused skin. "Savannah was always all-or-nothing," he sighed. "If the boat's a bust... we keep moving."
Clementine's chest tightened as she watched the hope drain from the room. The boat had been more than just an escape to her - it was open water where walkers couldn't follow. No more fences. No more running. Just the sea stretching forever, like in the picture books her parents used to read to her.
The sudden pounding of footsteps broke the heavy silence as Ben skidded around the upstairs landing, gripping the banister for balance. "Mark!" His voice carried an urgency that snapped everyone to attention. "You gotta see this upstairs."
Mark was on his feet before Ben finished speaking, rifle already in hand. "What'd you find?" The two disappeared up the steps, their hurried footsteps fading down the hallway.
Katjaa gave Clementine's shoulder a gentle squeeze before slipping outside to check on Kenny. The door creaked shut behind her, leaving Clem alone with David and Duck.
"Clementine," David said, leaning forward with exaggerated skepticism. "You're not one of those kids who brags about being smart but can't actually read, are you?"
Her lower lip jutted out slightly. "I was the best reader in my class," she muttered, though the usual pride in her voice was dampened.
David's eyes twinkled as he produced a battered picture book from the side table. "Prove it," he challenged, holding it out. The cover was faded but still showed traces of vibrant colors beneath the dust.
Clementine wrinkled her nose. "Do I have to?"
David leaned back with a theatrical gasp. "Well now, I guess that settles it. Clearly just a big talker—"
"I am not!" She snatched the book with sudden determination, flipping it open with practiced ease. As she began reading aloud, David allowed himself satisfied smirk as he successfully distracted her. He glanced at Duck over her head but the boy looked at him cluelessly.
---
Lee and Carley pushed through the creaking garden gate, their boots kicking up dust as they finally returned to the house. The journey back from the hotel had taken exactly as long as expected, their path similar to the one they took to get there.
Lee's eyes immediately found Kenny - the man was hunched over the boat's engine, his shirt soaked with sweat and his face twisted in a familiar scowl. Every muttered curse carried across the yard as he wrenched at stubborn bolts.
"You might want to handle that," Carley murmured, pressing a quick kiss to Lee's cheek before heading inside. The door slapped shut behind her.
Kenny didn't even look up as Lee approached. "Decide to grace us with your presence?" He spat to the side, wiping grease from his hands. "Real helpful disappearing without a word while I deal with this piece of shit."
Lee held up his hands. "We took care of that walkie creep. Permanently."
Kenny paused, a spark of interest cutting through his irritation. "You put him down proper?"
"Arrow through the eye socket."
A grudging smirk tugged at Kenny's lips as he turned back to the engine. "That does take the edge off." With a final frustrated sigh, he straightened up. "Alright, here's where we stand - good news and bad news."
He gestured to the silent motor. "Bad news is this tub ain't going nowhere. Good news?" Kenny's eyes gleamed with the first real hope Lee had seen in days. "All we need is one goddamn battery."
Lee didn't need Kenny to finish the thought. "Let me guess - we're checking the riverfront for a battery."
"Bingo," Kenny said, wiping his hands on an already grease-stained rag. His eyes shone with rare optimism. "One good pull from a marina or fishing boat, and she's golden."
Lee nodded, already calculating. The docks would be picked clean, but the riverfront held other possibilities. Like a certain blonde-haired scavenger who was the real key to getting a battery. "I'll check on Clem first," he said, turning toward the house.
Then stopped dead.
The memory hit him like a physical blow - the garbage bins, the cardboard, the bite that never should have happened. His fingers twitched toward his axe.
"Forgot something," he muttered to Kenny, already striding out the gate and around the perimeter fence. The overflowing bins stood just where he his dream depicted, the warped cardboard leaning against them like a macabre welcome mat.
Lee hefted his axe, the weight familiar in his grip. This time, there would be no surprise. No fatal mistake. He'd rewrite his fate right now.