Undercurrents at Gunpoint

The crack of a shotgun being racked echoed through the deathly silent camp.

Shane shouldered the RPG launcher, its muzzle aimed straight at the barn's outline in the darkness.

Under the moonlight, his facial muscles were taut, his eyes filled with murderous intent and resolve.

"Shane! Stop!!"

Rick roared, pushing Lori aside and staggering forward on his injured leg to stand between Shane and the barn.

His eyes held shock, anger, and fear.

"What are you doing?! Blowing it up?! Those are people in there! Hershel's family!"

Rick had not been through much yet and still retained a measure of kindness. Perhaps that was the greatest difference between his way of doing things and Shane's.

"People?!"

Shane's voice was shrill. The launcher did not budge, its muzzle nearly pressing against Rick's chest. "Rick! Wake up! Look out there! Those are walkers! Things that eat people.

"When they get out, your wife! Your son! All of us! We'll all die.

"That stubborn old bastard wants to die! We can't go down with him! Now! Take it out."

"Yeah! Shane's right." Merle immediately stepped forward, gripping his machete and sweeping his gaze toward the farm. "Leaving them alive is asking for trouble. Blow them up and be done with it."

In truth, Merle did not care. Daryl, the one he cared about, did not need much protection from him anyway. The zombies in the barn meant nothing to him.

He simply enjoyed watching trouble unfold, no matter how big it got, and wanted some entertainment.

"We can't blow it up!" Andrea snapped, her finger pressed firmly against her rifle's trigger guard, her face pale. "It'll make too much noise! The explosion will draw walkers from miles away. We'll be surrounded. None of us will get out."

"Then what do we do? Wait for them to break the door down?" T-Dog sounded terrified. "Or wait for Hershel to 'cure' them?"

"Maybe... Mr. Hershel really has a way..." Carol held Sophia in her arms, her voice faint.

"Bullshit!" Shane cut her off roughly. "A way? To wait for death!"

Davis stood silently just behind Lynn to one side, his hand on the shotgun at his waist. His sharp gaze swept the darkness around the camp, indifferent to the argument.

Glenn huddled at the edge of the crowd with his head lowered. Min-seon stood protectively by Rick and Lori, while Lori clutched Carl tightly, her face pale.

The camp split in an instant.

Shane and Merle-act immediately, settle it by force.

Rick, Carol, and Min-seon-opposed to violent destruction.

Andrea and T-Dog-afraid of the explosion's consequences, seeking a safe solution.

Davis, Glenn, Daryl, who remained silent, Dale, who watched anxiously, and the others-their eyes settled on one person.

The argument grew louder, the tension explosive.

Shane's finger settled on the trigger. Rick reached for his police revolver. The air grew taut.

"Enough."

Lynn's voice was quiet, cold, and calm, cutting through the clamor.

Every voice stopped. Everyone turned to him.

Frustration and wariness flashed in Shane's eyes. Rick relaxed slightly, but his concern deepened.

Lynn stood in the center of the crowd, moonlight illuminating his hard profile. His expression did not shift as his gaze passed over every face.

"Arguing here is useless." His voice was clear. "It'll only cause trouble."

His gaze fell on the launcher on Shane's shoulder and the shotgun's muzzle, lingering for a second, his eyes allowing no argument.

Shane's jaw bulged. Under Lynn's gaze, his trigger finger slowly relaxed.

He gave a heavy snort and did not insist.

Lynn looked at Rick. "Your concern is valid. An explosion will draw a horde."

Rick opened his mouth to speak, but Lynn had already looked away, turning to everyone. "Now, get some rest. Save your strength and stay alert. I'll deal with the barn."

Lynn's orders were brief but unquestionable.

Silence fell instantly.

Davis was the first to turn, heading for his watch post.

Andrea's shoulders relaxed. She lowered her rifle and headed toward the RV with her younger sister.

T-Dog hesitated. Dale sighed and shook his head, and the two climbed back into the RV together.

As though granted a reprieve, Glenn hurried away with his head down. He was in the most difficult position of all; simply being here was torment.

Min-seon helped Lori and Carl toward the resting area, while Carol left carrying the sleeping Sophia.

Only Shane and Rick remained.

Standing several paces apart, their gazes clashed fiercely, full of hostility and a gulf between them.

"Rick..." Shane's voice was low, his anger suppressed. "You're going to get everyone killed... just like you almost got Lori and Carl killed before!"

Rick's expression darkened. He clenched his fists and was about to speak.

"Shane," Lynn's cold voice cut between them. "Get some rest. Or take watch."

The unspoken message: don't cause trouble.

Shane stared hard at Rick, then glared at Lynn. He abruptly took the launcher off his shoulder and shoved it back into the wooden crate in the corner of the RV with a dull clunk.

Grabbing his shotgun, he headed into the darkness on the other side of camp without looking back, his retreating figure bristling with agitation.

Rick stood where he was, his chest heaving. He looked at Lynn, his eyes complicated. "Lynn... the barn... those people..."

"I know," Lynn interrupted evenly. "I'll handle it. Go rest, Rick. You need to recover properly."

Rick looked into Lynn's unfathomable eyes and nodded wearily. Under Lori's worried gaze, he limped toward the resting area.

The camp regained a semblance of peace, but the atmosphere was heavier and more oppressive.

Only the crackle of the campfire and the increasingly distinct, persistent dull thuds from deep inside the distant barn reminded them that danger had not gone away.

Lynn stood alone beside the campfire. Orange-red firelight danced over his face, unable to melt the ice.

He did not need sleep. His gaze swept over the movements inside and outside the camp, analyzing everyone's condition and calculating possible developments.

Time passed.

The moon rose to the middle of the sky, spilling its cold light.

As the camp sank into sleep and even Davis and Andrea, who were on watch, grew tired and tense, a shadow almost indistinguishable from its surroundings silently appeared three paces behind Lynn.

No footsteps, no breathing, no disturbance in the air.

Lynn already knew he was there.

[Boss!]

The Jackal's low, icy words flowed into his mind like data.

[Speak.] Lynn's response was equally cold.

[External threat detected.

Location: southwest of the farm, approximately 1.5 kilometers away, at the edge of the oak woods.]

[Targets: armed group of humans.

Numbers: eight to ten.]

[Equipment: primarily hunting guns (at least five confirmed), several handguns, machetes.

Vehicle: one modified pickup truck (steel plates welded onto the bed).]

[Behavior pattern: covert observation, establishment of surveillance posts. Has been monitoring the farm and our camp for over three hours.]

[Special intelligence: target group mentioned "sickly little girl" (Sophia), "heavy weaponry" (RPG), "farm supplies," and "Maggie, Beth, and classmates."]

[Threat assessment: highly hostile, intent on looting.

Expected to act soon, possibly launching a surprise attack when our guard is lowest.

Priority objectives: seize sick and weak personnel for leverage, capture heavy weaponry.]

The exchange ended.

Lynn stood beside the leaping campfire, his silhouette like an icy statue. These people were probably the group that clashed with Rick and the others in town in the original story.

The fire cast two dim points of light in his unfathomable eyes.

The pounding deep inside the barn sounded like a death knell for the bloody feast to come.

A plan formed in Lynn's mind...