She hesitated for a moment before pulling off her backpack.
"We don't have much," she said quietly, emptying a few food items onto the ground while keeping some aside. "But you can take most of it. Just let us keep a little."
I looked at them, the desperation written plainly across their faces.
"Keep it," I said. I already had more than enough from the bandits.
Her face brightened instantly, as did the expressions of the two men behind her.
"Thank you, sir," she said, still clearly afraid of me.
I ignored her fear and decided to ask a few questions.
"Where are you coming from?" I asked, hoping they might have useful information.
"We're coming from Savannah," she replied, worry still etched into her face.
That caught my attention.
"Did you see a group of six people heading toward Savannah?" I asked, hoping they might have seen Lee and the others.
She shook her head. "I'm sorry, sir. We didn't see anyone traveling toward Savannah."
She glanced at me nervously, as if afraid her answer would anger me. I was disappointed—but not with them.
"Why are you leaving Savannah?" I asked.
She hesitated and glanced back at the two men. One of them stepped forward.
"There's a civil war going on between survivor groups," he said nervously, his eyes darting around. "We didn't feel safe staying there any longer."
"I'm heading to Savannah myself," I said. "Is there anything else I should know?"
At that, all three of them stiffened. The woman looked panicked and spoke quickly.
"Sir, please don't go there," she said. "Hundreds of people are dying every day. Anyone who's sick, injured, or even old is killed without mercy. The real reason we fled isn't just the fighting—it's because my two brothers have asthma. If anyone found out, they would have been executed."
She swallowed hard. "I strongly suggest you don't go."
I nodded, grateful for the warning.
"Thank you," I said sincerely. "But I still have to go. Is there anything specific I should watch out for?"
Seeing that I was determined, they exchanged uneasy glances before answering.
"Be careful of the Hunters," one of them said.
"The Hunters?" I asked.
"There's a group that sets traps along the roads," the woman explained, her voice shaking. "Anyone unlucky enough to fall into one gets robbed of everything. They're enslaved if they cooperate—killed if they resist. They even sell body parts as meat to survivor camps willing to trade."
She took a shaky breath. "Don't pick up any food or supplies you find on the road without checking carefully. Most of it is bait."
"I understand," I said. "Thank you for the information."
It was genuinely useful.
After saying goodbye, I mounted the bike and continued toward Savannah.
I passed through countless towns and crossed rusted bridges. Hours later, Savannah finally came into view.
They hadn't been exaggerating.
Food and supplies lay scattered along the roads—too neatly placed to be genuine. I spotted tripwires, hanging snares, bear traps hidden beneath debris, and even nails and spikes buried in the ground. Luckily, my sharp eyesight allowed me to notice most of them immediately; the rest I avoided by instinct alone.
I didn't need the supplies, so I ignored them and kept riding. I knew desperate people would fall for those traps—but that was their fate to face. Still, I worried about Lee and the others. I tried contacting them over the radio, but there was no response. That only deepened my concern, and I pushed the bike harder toward the city.
After a long ride, I finally arrived.
The entire city was eerily quiet—so silent it felt abandoned. A broken-down car sat in the street, its parts scavenged. Houses were smashed open, windows shattered, doors torn from their hinges. Nothing looked untouched. Savannah had been completely looted.
I hid my bike behind a row of buses. Riding it deeper into the city would have been too loud, drawing undead and unwanted attention. The fuel was low as well, and I needed to conserve it in case things went wrong.
Leaving it behind, I continued on foot through the silent neighborhoods. There wasn't a single person in sight—not even any undead. The emptiness felt wrong.
I headed toward the docks, where the boats and ships should have been.
After only a few minutes, the smell hit me—thick, metallic, unmistakable: blood and rotting flesh.
I looked down the street and froze.
Massive piles of corpses and trash littered the ground. Blood flowed like a river between them, and bodies were stacked so high they formed walls at every entrance leading deeper into the city. Every few feet stood large signs reading " KEEP OUT."
The sight was horrifying, but it explained everything. The city wasn't empty. It had been sealed off, barricaded with the dead.
Ignoring the horror, I continued toward the docks.
When I finally reached the area, there were no boats left. Anything that had once floated was either torn apart or scavenged down to nothing—no survivors—only more bodies, stacked higher and higher. The stench was overwhelming.
Suddenly, a loud bell rang.
The sound echoed across the city.
I immediately looked toward the source—the church.
My heart pounded. At any moment, every undead in the surrounding area would be drawn to that noise. I knew it instinctively. I'd seen it before, using the church bell to divert walkers away from key locations.
That meant one thing.
I needed to get off the streets.
I quickly climbed onto the roof of a nearby building just as distant moans began to rise.
From above, I saw her.
A hooded girl sprinted across the rooftops, moving with speed and precision, an ice pick clenched in her hand.
I followed immediately, leaping from building to building to keep up with her. I knew who she was, Molly. In the original story, she was the first person Lee met upon arriving in Savannah. If anyone knew where Lee and Clementine were, she was the most likely source.
And I wasn't about to lose her.