Clementine's nose wrinkled as she took an instinctive step back. "Ew! You smell… gross!" Her small hands flew up to cover her nose, her face scrunching in disgust.
Carley's expression faltered for just a second before she glanced down at her blood-caked clothes. "Oh. Right." She peeled her jacket away from her body with a grimace, the fabric stiff with dried gore. "Forgot I'm still wearing these."
Katjaa's eyebrows shot up as she took in Carley's appearance—the dark stains coating her sleeves, the flecks of decay clinging to her jeans. "Good heavens, you look like you bathed in a slaughterhouse." She hesitated, then added delicately, "Perhaps a change of clothes… and possibly a very thorough scrubbing?"
Carley let out a tired chuckle, rolling her stiff shoulders. "We had to cover ourselves in walker gut's to get through downtown." She plucked at her gore-stiffened collar. "Turns out when you smell like them, they mostly leave you alone."
Katjaa's hand fluttered to her throat. "You walked right through a horde?" Her voice dropped to a horrified whisper. "That's either the bravest or the most reckless thing I've ever heard."
David, who had been sitting quietly, gave her a wide-eyed stare. "H-how did you know it would work? Surely you didn't just… risk it?"
Carley shook her head, wiping walker gore from her sleeve. "Wasn't my idea. Lee made the call." She shuddered slightly at the memory. "Trust me, I hated every second of it." Her eyes scanned the room. "Where are Ben and Mark?"
Katjaa and David exchanged a glance. The veterinarian's hands twisted in her apron. "They're... handling a walker upstairs."
Carley tilted her head. "And that's taking both of them because...?"
David's face twisted like he'd bitten into something rotten. "It's a child. Probably starved up in the attic." His voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm thankful I can't get up there to see."
The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Carley opened her mouth, then closed it, her usual quick wit failing her.
Clementine's small voice cut through the quiet like a knife. "Where is Lee?"
As if he had been summoned, the garden door swung open with a soft creak, sunlight spilling around the figure standing in the doorway.
Lee stepped inside, looking… different. His usual weariness was gone, replaced by an almost boyish energy. He stood straighter, his grip loose on the fireaxe in his hand—streaked with fresh walker gore, but that didn't seem to bother him. If anything, he looked like a man who'd just won the lottery.
Kenny paused halfway down the stairs, rifle resting against his shoulder. He squinted at Lee like he wasn't sure he was seeing right. "Alright, Everett, what's with the shit-eating grin? You find a case of whiskey out there or somethin'?"
Lee chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, better." His voice was light, almost giddy. "I just feel… good."
Clementine tilted her head, studying him with a child's perceptive stare. "You're acting weird, Lee."
He chuckled, giving her cap an affectionate tug. "Am I?" The grin didn't leave his face as he turned to Kenny. "Give me a minute with Clem. Then we'll head down to the riverfront like we planned."
"Sounds good, pal." Kenny clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, but shot Carley a sideways glance. Their shared look of bewilderment spoke volumes. "What the fuck's he been smoking?" Kenny muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Carley to hear.
Lee guided Clem aside, his buoyant mood fueled by the walker's head he just smashed in. In his mind, he'd just rewritten fate itself - that prophetic end to his dream that had haunted him since the outbreak now rendered obsolete. But beneath the triumph flickered a quieter realization: without that grim roadmap of the future, he was truly nearing uncharted territory.
Kneeling to her level, Lee took a steadying breath before speaking. "Clem, you can use your radio whenever you want now. That man won't be bothering you anymore."
Her eyes searched his face with sudden understanding. "Is that where you and Carley went? To see the bad man?"
"Yeah," Lee confirmed, keeping his tone light. "Let's just say he won't be causing any more trouble, sweet pea." He straightened up. "I need to help Kenny at the river, but I'll be back soon, okay?"
"Can I come?" Clem's hopeful expression tugged at him. "We're a team, right?"
Lee crouched down again, choosing his words carefully. "We are a team - the best team. And right now, I need my best partner to keep things safe here while I'm gone. Can you do that for me?"
Clem's face fell slightly, but she nodded with reluctant understanding. "Okay, Lee."
"Hey," he said gently, tapping her chin until she met his eyes. "Remember our promise? Soon as we get that boat working, it's just you and me heading out to find your parents. Nobody else."
Her disappointment vanished like morning mist, replaced by a brilliant smile. "Yeah!"
Lee gave her a last smile before walking out. Kenny waited by the gate, scanning the street through the bars. Their gear check was quick but thorough - Lee's axe, crossbow, rifle, and that bulletproof vest he'd kept since the beginning.
"You all set?" Kenny asked, eyes still searching the empty streets for any sign of movement of life—or rather death.
"Yeah, let's head out."
The gate's loud squeak made them both tense. Their eyes instantly tracked across the shadowed storefronts and alleyways. Savannah's quiet streets were a lie—walkers could be anywhere.
Kenny took point, rifle gripped tight as they moved down the sidewalk. "So," he whispered, "wanna explain that stupid grin earlier? You and Carley get down and dirty or something?"
Lee clicked his tongue. "Kenny, man, will you shut up and walk? And no, we didn't get 'down and dirty' as you put it."
Kenny cleared a storefront with his rifle before flashing a grin. "What? Can't a guy care about his friend's love life? Convict and reporter - shit, that's better than most rom-coms they made before the world ended."
"Didn't take you for the rom-com type..." Lee caught himself and shook his head. He was falling right into Kenny's game.
"Oh, I was a big fan." Kenny said, checking behind a rusted car. "Besides, you two got that whole opposites-attract thing. She's all brains, you're all..." He gestured at Lee's bloodstained sleeves.
"Charming?" Lee deadpanned.
"I was gonna say something else, but sure." Kenny's chuckle died when a distant moan echoed through the streets. Both men tensed, hands tightening on their weapons.
"You think there'll be one there? A battery?" Kenny suddenly asked, voice lower now.
Lee chose his words carefully. "If there's one anywhere in Savannah, it'll be there."
Kenny nodded, some hope returning. "Had to be a hundred boats here before everything went to hell. If we're lucky, some rich asshole left their keys in the ignition."
"We'll soon find out," Lee said, matching Kenny's pace as they moved toward the riverfront.
After a tense, silent walk, the riverfront was nearly in view - just as a deep bell toll echoed through the streets. Both men instantly raised their weapons, scanning the shadows.
"That same bastard from before," Kenny snarled, swinging his rifle wildly. "It's another goddamn trap!"
Lee held up a steadying hand. "Listen - it's further off this time. The noise will pull the dead away from us."
Kenny opened his mouth to argue when a dozen walkers shambled around the corner they'd just passed. The men froze as the herd lumbered past, drawn toward the distant bell without noticing them.
A silent nod passed between them before they moved forward - only for Kenny's hope to die at the shoreline. Lee's stomach dropped at the sight: a graveyard of wrecked boats, their hulls shattered and half-submerged. Not a single vessel looked seaworthy. Unfortuanately, just as he expected.
But they didn't need a boat. Just one working battery. One Lee knew wasn't here.
"There's gotta be one here... There's gotta be..." Kenny's voice cracked as he surged forward, Lee barely keeping pace with his desperate sprint toward the ruined docks.
Lee sprinted after Kenny, his gaze snapping to the horrific roadblock ahead—a wall of walker corpses and rubbish stacked taller than a man. Limbs still twitched among the rotting pile, and impaled figures writhed on rusted spikes, their moans faint but persistent. The stench hit him like a physical blow.
Kenny staggered toward a half-sunken boat, his voice raw. "This one might be salvageable… might still have what we need—"
Lee eyed the shattered hull. Water lapped at its splintered deck. "You check it," he said, forcing calm. "You know boats better than me." He stepped back, scanning the marina. "I'll have a look around—maybe use those telescopes to check the rest of the waterfront."
Kenny didn't look up. "Yeah. Sounds good, Lee." His words were hollow as he stood beside the wreckage, hands hovering over the hull engine like a surgeon over a corpse.
Lee left Kenny to his grim work, stepping closer to the wall of walker corpses. The stacked bodies—some still twitching—formed a grotesque barricade. Whoever did this knew how to survive, he thought. Crawford had been ruthless, stripping Savannah clean... yet they'd still fallen. What finally broke them?
Shaking off the thought, Lee scanned the rooftops. Molly was out there somewhere, moving like a ghost across the skyline. He could almost picture her—parkouring between buildings with that same effortless grace she'd shown before. "If I could move like that..." he muttered, imagining having a skill like that.
The street offered nothing. Cars sat picked clean, their skeletons rusting in the sun. A newspaper stand collapsed under his axe, yielding a few quarters for the telescope.
The view was just more disappointment. The waterfront stretched empty except for a handful of sunken wrecks—no boats, no life. He adjusted the lens toward the rooftops, searching for any flicker of movement—
"Hey, folks!"
Lee whirled, rifle snapping up as Kenny came barreling down the boardwalk, weapon trained on the newcomers.
Three men stood in the open, hands raised but armed. The two flankers kept their weapons angled—not quite aimed, not quite safe. "Didn't mean to startle you," the leader said. "Just curious is all."
Kenny's finger hovered near the trigger. "Curious gets people shot these days."
The leader—a broad-shouldered man in his late forties with a thick mustache and soul patch—stepped forward. His dark eyes never stopped assessing them. "Easy now, fellas. We don't want trouble." He raised his hands, but the gesture felt calculated. "Like I said, just making conversation. Don't see many folks around anymore."
"Your boys don't seem to agree," Kenny snapped, jerking his rifle toward the two armed men still holding their positions.
The man glanced back at his crew. "Can't blame a man for being cautious these days." His gaze locked onto Lee. "How about we all lower our weapons? Civilized conversation suits everyone, doesn't it?"
Lee's instincts screamed danger. This man didn't exist in his dream—a wild card. "Do it," he whispered to Kenny. "Could be more we don't see. Stay sharp."
"You trust this bastard?" Kenny hissed, but reluctantly lowered his rifle when Lee did.
"Good." The leader signaled his men. Weapons dipped, but not far. "Now," he said, dusting imaginary dirt from his sleeve, "mind telling me what brings you here?"
Lee kept his voice flat. "That your business?"
The man tilted his head skyward, as if consulting the clouds. When he looked back, his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Suppose not. Though I should warn you—you won't find anything useful here."
Kenny's grip tightened on his rifle. "Oh yeah? You sound real fucking sure of that."
One of the armed men lurched forward towards Kenny. "Watch your tongue or i'll cut it ou—"
The leader held up a restraining hand to his man without breaking eye contact with Lee. "Civilized. That's what we're being here. Don't ruin that." His voice carried the quiet weight of someone used to being obeyed. His face straightened as the pretense of friendliness faded like a receding tide. "Reason I'm certain? We picked this place clean months ago. Right down to the bolts." A slow, knowing smile. "There's nothing left for scavengers."
Lee's spine turned to ice. The corpse barricade. The picked-over boats. All of it clicked into place. If this man was who he belived him to... then his plan for a battery may have just gone up in smoke.
"You..." Lee's voice dropped. "Who are you?"
The man's smile widened, revealing teeth too white for the apocalypse. He extended a hand like they were closing a business deal. "Forgive my manners. Name's Oberson Crawford. Pleasure making your acquaintance."