Blood-red afterglow
The abandoned gas station reeked of blood and gun smoke mixed with motor oil.
The team Lynn led returned from the motel, their footsteps heavy.
Davis and Merle each carried a heavy canvas bag filled with scavenged hunting ammunition and several machetes.
They were not short on weapons for the moment, but every little bit counted. These would also make good trade goods in the future.
At the rear, Shane and Daryl carried a wooden crate, its blurred Russian markings barely visible in the dim light-inside were two cold RPG-7 launchers and just four rockets.
Glenn held several crumpled packets of crackers and a few bottles of murky water, his face pale.
The gas station lay deathly silent until their figures emerged from the darkness.
Only then did the tense atmosphere ease slightly, and stifled breaths began to sound one after another.
Andrea moved her finger away from the trigger guard, and T-Dog's taut shoulders slumped.
Rick struggled to get up, but Min-seon held him down.
Lori and Carol instinctively hugged the children in their arms tighter, and Sophia buried her face in her mother's worn clothes.
Lynn set the captured rocket-launcher crate down heavily on the dry ground outside the repair shed. The dull thud made everyone's heart jump.
His gaze swept over the group. His voice was quiet but clear. "That stronghold has been wiped out. The threat is gone for now, and we captured plenty of supplies."
He paused, looking over their weary faces. "Davis, inventory all the loot and log it. Store food, water, weapons, and ammunition separately. Glenn, help him."
"Understood, Boss."
Davis answered and immediately got to work.
"Shane, Daryl." Lynn turned to the two men. "Keep watch on the perimeter and clean up the bodies and traces.
"Leave no loose ends by daybreak."
Shane said nothing. He nodded grimly, grabbed his shotgun, and left.
Daryl followed in silence, his figure quickly disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the gas station.
More urgent hammering came from the repair shed.
Dale emerged covered in grease, his face a mixture of exhaustion and concentration.
"Lynn!" His voice was hoarse with excitement. "The driveshaft U-joint... I replaced it with an old one I found in the shed. The bearing... is barely holding up too. The jack's holding.
"Now... we just need to put the wheel back on. Give me some time. Before daylight... we might be able to leave."
Something flickered in Lynn's eyes. Although there was no mission time limit, this was no good place to stay, and remaining here carried considerable risk.
"How long do you need?"
"Working flat out... give me another two hours!"
Dale wiped the sweat and grease from his face, his eyes blazing.
"All right!"
Lynn nodded. "T-Dog, Andrea, go help Dale.
"Everyone else, clean up inside the convenience store and get ready to spend the night.
"Stay quiet. Stay alert."
With the orders given, the camp slowly began moving again, numb and tense.
Davis and Glenn took stock of the supplies in low voices beside the jeep. Davis sorted through the rounds with his rough fingers. "9mm pistol rounds... fifty-seven. Twelve-gauge shells... thirty-nine. .308 rifle rounds... twenty-three. The hunting guns are a mixed bunch, with even less ammunition..."
Glenn quickly wrote everything down in a small notebook.
Inside the repair shed, T-Dog and Andrea worked together under Dale's direction to lift the heavy wheel hub, sweat pouring down their bodies.
The clink of wrenches striking metal rang especially clearly in the night. Fortunately, most of the nearby zombies had been cleared out, so it caused no trouble.
The convenience store's interior had been cleaned out, with broken glass and trash piled in a corner.
Min-seon helped Rick sit against the wall and checked his leg wound again. The blood seeping through the bandage looked dark beneath the faint flashlight beam.
Lori held the half-asleep Carl, while Carol sat on a relatively clean patch of floor with Sophia hugged tightly against her, a blanket wrapped around mother and daughter.
No one spoke. There was only suppressed breathing and the occasional low moan from far away.
Lynn did not go inside. He leaned against the cold brickwork of the outer wall, looking toward the fields west of the gas station, shrouded in night.
Several kilometers away, the low rise with the outlines of a barn and farmhouse lay hidden in the darkness.
At the edge of his vision, system notifications flickered blue:
[Side mission: Save Hershel's family (in progress)] [Main mission (Survivor integration) time limit: frozen]
Character creation privileges... and the farm's resources-a doctor, labor, a temporary base... These thoughts turned over in Lynn's mind.
The risks were just as clear: unknown threats, Hershel's possible stubbornness, and the rift within the group-Shane's jaw tightening whenever his gaze passed over Rick...
Time slipped by in tense silence.
At the darkest hour of the night, a burst of stifled grunts and the shriek of scraping metal suddenly came from the repair shed, followed by the engine's dull, broken groans.
Vroom... put-put-put... vroom!
The sound struggled, but it kept going!
Dale poked his grease-and-sweat-soaked face out of the repair shed doorway, his eyes startlingly bright in the wavering flashlight beam. "It's running! It's running! We can go!"
The tense atmosphere finally eased a little.
Leaning against his motorcycle, Merle snorted. "Old man's still good for something."
Daryl and Shane returned after cleaning up the traces around the perimeter. At the sound of the engine, Shane's taut jawline seemed to ease a fraction.
"Everyone," Lynn's voice broke through the brief relaxation, "get what rest you can in the time left. Dale, make sure it'll hold up for the trip.
"Davis, arrange rotating watches. Daybreak in two hours. We leave then."
The orders were brief. No one objected.
Exhaustion had overwhelmed them all.
On the convenience store floor, people curled up against cold walls or one another.
Lori gently patted Carl, while Carol wrapped Sophia completely in the blanket.
Min-seon leaned beside Rick and closed her eyes.
Glenn and T-Dog squeezed into a corner.
Lynn remained outside, his back against the cold wall, his eyes closed but not asleep.
Deep in his consciousness, he sent an order to Jackal on the perimeter: Jackal! Change of objective: the area around Hershel's Farm. Reconnoiter, assess threats, and remain concealed on standby.
The order went out. There was no response.
Lynn knew that the blade in the shadows was already moving.
The latter half of the night was cold.
Wind whistled through the gas pump canopy's collapsed roof and the convenience store's broken windows.
Andrea and Daryl took their watches in turn, their figures like silhouettes in the dim light.
Inside the repair shed, Dale wrapped himself in a tattered blanket and stayed beside the RV, occasionally reaching out to touch the hood and feel its uneven vibrations.
By the time the eastern horizon turned gray, the camp was already stirring.
Supplies were quickly loaded into the vehicles, the jeep's trunk packed with canned food, water, and ammunition crates.
The wooden crate holding the rocket launchers was carefully secured in a rear corner of the RV and covered with dirty canvas.
Davis inspected both vehicles carefully, especially the RV's newly repaired wheel.
Lynn stood at the convenience store entrance, watching everyone work.
His gaze passed over Rick being helped into the jeep's back seat, Lori following with Carl in her arms, and Carol holding the still somewhat uneasy Sophia's hand, before finally settling on Shane.
Shane was tossing his backpack into the jeep. When his eyes passed over Lynn, they held scrutiny and lingering hostility.
"Move out."
Lynn's voice cut through the morning chill.
The engines roared.
Davis drove the jeep in the lead, rolling over gravel and weeds as it left the abandoned gas station.
The RV followed close behind, wheezing and shaking more loudly than usual, but moving nonetheless.
Dale gripped the steering wheel tensely, while T-Dog scanned their surroundings warily from the passenger seat.
The convoy did not take the road they had arrived on.
The jeep cut tracks through the fields ahead, and the RV lumbered over them, heading toward the rise to the west.
Lynn sat in the jeep's front passenger seat, his gaze piercing the thin mist. As they drew closer, his eyes fixed on the increasingly clear outlines on the distant rise: wooden fences, a huge red barn, and the farmhouse's low roof and chimney.
A relatively intact patch of land nestled in the wilderness.
This was Hershel's Farm, the objective of the side mission.
At the edge of his vision, the system screen flickered:
[Side mission: Save Hershel's family (in progress)] [Main mission (Survivor integration) time limit: frozen]
The tires rolled through the weeds with a steady rustle, carrying the exhausted survivors and heavy weapons slowly toward the mist-shrouded farm.