Chapter 13

  The Blackout (Episode 1 Finale)

  Lee tightened his grip on the axe. Time fractured into milliseconds.

  To his right, Doug was being pulled backward into the dark, his fingernails leaving bloody streaks on the wall. To his left, Carley was on the floor, thrashing against the crawler that was dragging her toward the encroaching herd.

  She saved my life, Lee thought, his trauma-addled brain latching onto the absolute truth of the last three minutes. She used her last bullet on me.

  Lee pivoted on his heel. He lunged toward the front counter, bringing the fire axe down in a brutal, sweeping arc.

  The heavy steel blade severed the crawler’s arm just above the elbow. The dead thing snapped its jaws, but Lee didn't give it a chance to recover. He drove the heel of his boot into its skull, crushing it against the linoleum.

  He grabbed Carley’s forearm, hauling her to her feet. "Come on!"

  "Doug!" Carley screamed, her voice tearing. "LEE, DOUG!"

  Lee spun around.

  He was a second too late.

  "LEE—!" Doug’s final scream was cut agonizingly short as the rotting hands ripped him backward through the jagged window frame. The sound of breaking glass was followed by a wet, sickening tear. Doug disappeared into the darkness of the street.

  There was no time to scream. The pharmacy's front double doors finally gave way, collapsing inward under the weight of fifty bodies.

  "RUN!" Lee roared.

  He shoved Carley ahead of him toward the back office. They sprinted down the narrow hallway, bursting through the steel exit door and out into the cool night air of the alley.

  Kenny’s truck was waiting, the engine revving like a cornered beast. Katjaa, Duck, and Clementine were huddled in the cab. Glenn and Lilly were in the truck bed, desperately trying to haul a gasping, pale Larry over the tailgate.

  "Get in! Get in!" Kenny screamed, hanging out the driver's side window. The alley behind them was filling with the dead.

  Carley scrambled up the bumper, diving into the truck bed. Lee was right behind her. He tossed the bloody axe into the back and reached up, grabbing the edge of the tailgate to pull himself up.

  Suddenly, a massive shadow blocked the streetlamp.

  Larry, his face slick with cold sweat and his chest heaving, looked down at Lee. The old man’s eyes were filled with a dark, venomous hatred that went far beyond the panic of the moment. He didn't say a word. He didn't explain.

  Larry pulled back his massive fist and delivered a brutal, full-weight haymaker directly into Lee’s jaw.

  CRACK.

  Stars exploded in Lee’s vision. The force of the blow threw him backward off the bumper. He hit the asphalt hard, tasting copper and dust.

  "DAD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Lilly screamed in horror.

  "Leave him!" Larry snarled, clutching his chest.

  The walkers bursting from the pharmacy door were only ten feet away, reaching for Lee’s legs. Lee tried to stand, but the world was spinning.

  "Give me your hand!"

  Kenny had thrown the driver's door open. He stood on the running board, leaning over the side of the truck bed. He grabbed the collar of Lee’s jacket with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, hauling the heavier man off the ground just as rotting fingers brushed Lee's boots.

  "Hang on!" Kenny roared. He slammed himself back into the driver's seat and stomped on the gas.

  The truck tires shrieked against the pavement, kicking up a cloud of smoke as they shot out of the alley, leaving the swarm—and Doug—behind.

  The Ride

  The silence in the back of the truck was heavy, broken only by the roar of the V8 engine and the wind whipping past them.

  "Where are we going?" Lilly shouted over the noise, leaning through the cab's broken back window. "We can't just drive aimlessly in the dark!"

  Lee sat up, rubbing his swelling jaw. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the street. "The Motor Inn," he said, his voice raw. He locked eyes with Kenny in the rearview mirror. "The alarm at the pharmacy just drew every walker in a five-mile radius. The motel should be completely empty now."

  Kenny nodded grimly, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "He's right. It's got high walls and it's defensible. It's our best shot."

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Lilly nodded, pulling her shivering father closer.

  Carley sat in the far corner, her knees pulled up to her chest. She was trembling violently, staring at the empty space on the floor of the truck bed. She knew Doug had died because she had dropped her ammo. She knew Lee had chosen her. The survivor's guilt was suffocating.

  A small, warm hand slipped into Lee's.

  Clementine had unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed through the sliding rear window of the cab. She squeezed herself into the space next to Lee in the truck bed. She didn't ask what happened to Doug. She just held Lee’s hand, anchoring him to the present.

  The Cleanup

  Ten minutes later, Kenny pulled the truck up the incline and into the courtyard of the Motor Inn. Glenn hopped out, dragging the heavy metal gates shut and locking them tight.

  "We're secure," Glenn panted, leaning against the iron bars. "For now."

  "Not yet," Lilly said, stepping out of the truck. She looked at the dead walkers littered across the asphalt—the ones Lee had killed earlier. "We can't sleep with these things in here. Disease, the smell... we need to clear the courtyard. Throw them outside the perimeter."

  The group nodded silently. Exhaustion weighed on every movement, but survival demanded the work. They began the gruesome task of grabbing the heavy, rotting corpses by the boots and collars, dragging them to the barricade, and heaving them over into the street.

  Lee stepped out of the truck. His boots hit the familiar asphalt. He looked down.

  His mother’s body was lying near the overturned ice machine, right where he had left her. He looked up at the second-floor balcony. Room 10. Room 11. The bodies of his father and brother were up there. Hidden in the dark, but there.

  He had to move them. He had to throw his own family over the wall like garbage.

  Suddenly, the smell of the courtyard—gasoline and rot—faded.

  Flashback. The smell of roasted turkey and cinnamon filled the air. Lee was standing in the kitchen of his parents' house in Macon. His mother was laughing, swatting his hand away from the stuffing with a wooden spoon. B, his brother, bumped his shoulder, grinning wide. "Look at the college boy, thinking he can steal mom's cooking before the prayer." His dad was setting the table. The house was warm. It was safe. It was full of love.

  Snap. The memory shattered.

  Lee was standing in the cold courtyard of the Motor Inn. His family was dead. He had killed them with a fire axe just hours ago. He had left Doug to be torn apart. His hands were covered in dried, black blood. And now, he had to desecrate his parents' bodies to keep his new group safe.

  Lee’s knees buckled.

  He hit the asphalt, the air rushing out of his lungs in a ragged, broken sob. The "tough survivor" facade completely disintegrated. He put his head in his hands, his broad shoulders shaking as the sheer magnitude of the nightmare crushed him.

  He felt tiny arms wrap around his neck.

  Clementine knelt on the dirty pavement next to him. She pressed her cheek against his shoulder. She didn't tell him it was going to be okay. She didn't tell him to stop crying. She just held on tight, letting him break.

  Glenn and Kenny quietly stepped past him, silently picking up his mother's body to spare Lee the unbearable task.

  The Departure

  An hour passed. The courtyard was clear. The group had claimed the ground-floor rooms.

  Lee was sitting on the hood of a rusted sedan, wiping his face with a damp rag Katjaa had given him. The pain in his jaw had settled into a steady ache.

  A burst of static broke the quiet.

  Glenn walked over, holding Carley's emergency radio. He looked torn.

  "...military presence in Atlanta..." the automated voice crackled through the speaker. "...refugee centers established at Fulton County... safety protocols in effect..."

  Glenn looked up at Lee. His eyes were red. He was still thinking about Irene in the motel room.

  "I have to go, Lee," Glenn said quietly. "My friends are in Atlanta. If there's a refugee center there... I have to know if they made it."

  "Glenn, it's suicide," Lee said, his voice raspy. "Look at what's out there. You saw the pharmacy."

  "I know," Glenn swallowed hard. "But I can't just sit here. Doug held that window so we could get out. Irene... Irene gave up because she lost hope. I can't give up on my people."

  Glenn tossed a small duffel bag over his shoulder. He looked at the group, giving a sad, lingering wave to Clementine, before slipping out through a gap in the fence he had scouted earlier.

  The group was down another fighter.

  The Truth Comes Out

  Lee walked toward the ice machine to grab a bottle of water. The shadows in the walkway were deep.

  A massive hand slammed into his chest, shoving him hard against the brick wall.

  "Not a word," Larry hissed, his forearm pressing against Lee’s throat. The old man was breathing heavy, but his strength was terrifying.

  "What is your problem, Larry?" Lee growled, his hands coming up to break the hold. "You almost killed me in the alley!"

  "I should have," Larry spat, his face inches from Lee's. "You think I don't know? You think because the dead are walking, your slate is wiped clean?"

  Lee’s blood ran cold. He stopped fighting the hold.

  "I'm an old man, Lee. I watch the news," Larry whispered, his voice dripping with venom. "I know who you are. I know what you did to that State Senator. You’re a convicted murderer. You were on your way to prison before this all started."

  Lee stared at him, his heart pounding in his ears. The secret was out.

  "You play the hero all you want for Kenny and my daughter," Larry sneered, stepping back and pointing a thick, trembling finger at Lee's chest. "But I know what you are. You're a killer. You watch your step. If you do anything to put my group in danger... if you come anywhere near my daughter, or that little girl... I will put you down myself."

  Larry turned and walked back into his motel room, slamming the door shut.

  Lee stood in the dark, his past wrapping around his throat like a noose.

  Total Darkness

  Lee walked slowly back to the courtyard.

  Clementine was sitting on a plastic lawn chair outside their room, her stuffed bear resting in her lap. She was looking up at the sky.

  Lee sat down on the concrete step next to her. He was physically exhausted, emotionally hollowed out, and now, he was compromised.

  "Are we going to stay here?" Clementine asked softly, not looking away from the stars.

  "For a while," Lee said, his voice gentle. "It's safe here. We have high walls."

  "I miss my parents," she whispered.

  "I know, sweet pea," Lee said, looking up at the dark balcony of Room 11. "I miss mine, too."

  He reached out and wrapped his arm around her small shoulders, pulling her close. They sat in silence, two broken people finding the only comfort left in the world in each other.

  Above them, the giant neon sign of the Motor Inn buzzed. In the distance, the streetlights of Macon cast an orange glow against the low clouds.

  And then, with a heavy, mechanical groan that echoed across the entire valley, the power grid failed.

  The neon sign sputtered and died. The streetlights blinked out in a wave, plunging the city into absolute, pitch-black darkness. The hum of civilization stopped, replaced instantly by the distant, echoing shrieks of the dead.

  The old world was officially gone.

  The gates are locked, but the threat is inside the walls. Larry knows Lee is a convicted killer. How should Lee handle this threat moving into Episode 2?