The sun had dipped entirely below the horizon, and the dark sky was complete. Daryl and Rick trudged back into the temporary camp, exhausted from their fruitless search.
"Did you find my Sophia?" Carol asked, her voice choked with worry.
"Nah, we will continue looking for Sophia tomorrow. It's dangerous at night," Rick replied, looking tired and disappointed. Daryl merely shook his head.
"But my Sophia is alone in the woods, what will she eat?" Carol pleaded.
"Look, we'll do our best to find Sophia the moment the sun rises. Searching for her now would be dangerous," Rick tried to console her, but Carol, frantic for her twelve-year-old, rebutted. "She's just a kid, Rick! She's 12 years old, she won't survive alone in the woods!" Lori and the other women gently took Carol and led her to the RV to comfort her. Lori, especially, felt a deep empathy; she knew she would react the same way if it were Carl.
After the girls left, Shane turned to Rick. "We have to move, Rick. This place ain't suitable for our group to stay."
"We can't abandon the kid, Shane. I keep saying to myself, 'What if it was Carl instead?' We have to look for her, at least until we don't see any signs of her body," Rick insisted, staring into the ominous woods.
Shane went silent. Meanwhile, atop the RV, Dale looked out at the dark surroundings. "You can go down and have some rest, Hermione," he offered.
"I can't sleep, Dale," Hermione replied, looking at the dark sky, a book resting in her hand.
Dale glanced at her and chuckled. "You worried about Arthur?" Hermione sighed, replying weakly, "Yeah."
On the other side of the woods, a fire crackled, illuminating three men sitting guard. "It's our turn to be the lookout for the night," a guy wearing a white tank top with a shotgun on his lap complained.
"Yeah, while the girls and others slept with good dreams, here we are sitting here like a bunch of idiots," a guy with a pistol on his hip griped.
The guy in the military outfit with a shotgun on his shoulder cut in. "We're not looking out for those damn undead; we're looking out in case someone attacked us. Jay shot a moving car earlier today; that idiot didn't even confirm it."
"That fucker kept causing us trouble for his sick game," the guy in the white tank top chuckled.
"I'mma gonna take a piss," the guy with the pistol, Zack, stood up and walked toward the woods for privacy. The other two barely noticed.
As Zack walked a few feet into the trees, he unzipped his pants. "Ahh," he sighed. A branch cracked. He turned his head. "Liam? You there?" Hearing no reply, he hastily shook off the excess and zipped up his pants. A soft shuffling in the leaves followed. He looked up, and the last thing he saw was a shadow dropping on him. Whack! A gurgling sound was cut short as a hand and a blade pierced his throat.
Back at the bonfire, the military man stood up. "Where are you going?" the guy in the white tank top asked.
"Zack has been gone for a while just to pee. I'll look for him in case something happened," he said, walking toward where Zack had gone. He found Zack instantly, slumped on the ground. He grabbed his shotgun and was about to scream a warning when an arrow flew fast and pierced the back of his head, exiting his mouth. He managed to squeeze the trigger—bang!—before collapsing.
Arthur muttered under his breath, "Damn it," as he moved swiftly toward the bonfire.
The gunshot echoed, and the guy in the white tank top shouted, "We're being attacked!" People scrambled out of their tents. Arthur immediately shot an arrow at a girl who had just emerged to find the attacker. The arrow pierced her heart. Arthur smirked. "Straight to the heart, like how Cupid likes it," he muttered, moving fluidly, flicking his left wrist, and assassinating a panicking man.
The guy in the white tank top finally spotted Arthur assassinating their members, aimed his shotgun, and fired. "You coward, fucker!" Bang!
Arthur instantly dove behind a tree for cover, pulling out his revolver. He slid to the right and fired two shots at two people grabbing their guns—bang! bang!—hitting one man in the stomach and a woman in the leg.
"Arrgh!" a guy and a woman screamed simultaneously.
Jay, the sniper who shot Arthur, grabbed a girl for cover and shouted toward the truck. "Take cover! This guy is fast! He's using the trees as cover!" Just then, an arrow pierced the girl he was dragging through the throat. Jay looked at the arrow, then toward its source. He saw Arthur's hooded silhouette, a clear smirk visible before Arthur disappeared behind a tree.
Jay grabbed the pistol from the dead girl's hand. "Guys, on me!" he shouted, running toward the tree where he last saw Arthur. Three men followed him, while the last girl, Jazmin, ran toward the man shot in the stomach to stop the bleeding in the open area.
"No! Guys, stop, he's aiming for Jazmin!" Jay screamed, but before he could run back to her, a suppressed spwessh sounded, and a bullet pierced her head.
"No, no, no, you fucking coward! Face us, you fucking bitch!" Jay screamed in anguish. He turned to run back, but three quick, suppressed gunshots sounded—spwessh spwessh spwessh—and the three men behind him dropped, leaving him alone.
A thud sounded behind him. He turned to see Arthur casually walking out of the darkness, his revolver aimed, a mocking smile on his lips.
"How does it feel to be hunted now?" Arthur said mockingly. Jay, still kneeling with Jazmin in his arms, realized who this was. "You... You're on the highway..."
"You're too easy to track, Jay... That's your name, right?" Arthur said.
"You retaliated by wiping out my group, you fucking monster!" Jay shouted in anguish.
Arthur kept his massive revolver steady, a smirk playing on his lips, and replied, "You shot me for fun, Jay. You mistake a scratch for a kill, mate. You put a hole in a perfectly good bottle of whiskey just for a laugh, so I'll take your bike, your weapons, and every single can of beans you had. I'm an expert at collecting compensation, and trust me, the price for spilled liquor is always steep. Now, I see what a pathetic sportsman like you is worth."
"You..." Before Jay could continue, Arthur fired—bang!—leaving a bullet hole in his forehead.
Arthur holstered his revolver and surveyed the decimated camp. He slowly collected the arrows he had used, put all the weapons into a duffel bag he found, and then took a moment to test the L96A1 sniper rifle. "Perfect," he muttered. He then loaded all the gathered supplies into his new ride, the Tenere 700 Explore with its built-in adventure packs.
The supplies weren't extensive, so Arthur quickly stuffed them into the packs and tied the duffel bag securely. He straddled the motorcycle. Vroomm vroomm! Arthur revved his new ride before taking off. Soon, he arrived back on the highway where he had been shot and continued his journey back to the group, a whiskey bottle still in hand.