By the time evening rolled around, Shane was already dead to the world.
Lucien sat under the desk, watching the last traces of daylight fade from the windows. The moon was rising somewhere beyond the buildings.
Time to move.
He crawled out from under the desk, careful not to make a sound. His first stop was the trunk. He pulled out his wand and tucked it inside his shirt, close to his ribs where he could reach it quickly if needed.
Then supplies. He didn't have much space to work with, but he grabbed what he could: a water bottle, two cans of food, the energy bars Shane had found. No idea when he'd find more. Better to be prepared.
He stuffed everything into the trunk, then pulled out paper and a pen from Shane's pack.
Writing the note took longer than he'd expected. He had to get the tone right. When he finished, he folded the paper, then grabbed the small alarm clock from Shane's pack. And set it for an hour from now, enough time for him to be long gone before Shane woke up. He placed both the note and clock beside Shane's head.
Shane didn't stir.
Lucien took a breath, then slipped out of the office.
The storage room next door was dark, filled with cleaning supplies and forgotten office equipment. He had scouted it days ago, looking for anything useful.
He found what he needed: a coil of nylon rope.
Then he grabbed it and headed back to the hallway.
The trunk was awkward to carry normally, and he couldn't risk it banging against walls or floors while he worked. So he improvised. He slid his arms through the handles like a backpack and used the rope to secure it tight against his body. He wrapped the rope around his chest and waist, then tested the knots to make sure nothing would slip.
It was uncomfortable. But the trunk wouldn't be going anywhere.
Next came the cloak.
Lucien pulled it from where he'd hidden it in the trunk's inner pocket. The fabric moved like liquid in his hands. He draped it over his shoulders and pulled the hood up.
He looked down and saw nothing.
The effect still gave him chills.
Finally, the raincoat. Yellow, adult-sized, found in the same storage room. He'd need it soon enough.
He picked it up and headed for the stairs.
---
The walker he'd killed was lying where it had fallen, next to the filing cabinet. Decomposition had accelerated in the summer heat. The smell was thick enough to taste.
Lucien stood there for a moment, staring at the corpse. This was the worst part of the plan.
He needed to coat the raincoat in blood and flesh.
The thought of touching that thing made his stomach churn, but he forced himself to move. He found a broken piece of metal shelving on the floor. He crouched beside the corpse and tried not to breathe through his nose.
The walker's torso was already partially exposed where the crowbar had caved in its skull. Patches of skin had sloughed off, revealing muscle and fat underneath.
He pressed the metal edge against the walker's shoulder and started scraping.
The flesh came away in sticky, reddish-brown chunks. His stomach heaved. He swallowed and kept working.
He scraped more from the walker's arm, then its chest, then the side of its neck where the skin had already started peeling. Each pass of the metal pulled up more gore. Twice he had to stop and turn away, fighting the urge to vomit. The smell was unbelievable. It filled his nose, coated his throat, and made his eyes burn.
But he kept going.
He smeared the collected gore across the yellow raincoat, working it into the fabric with his fingers. The bright yellow disappeared under layers of dark red and brown. Chunks of flesh stuck to the material. When he held it up, it looked like something pulled from a butcher's waste bin.
It looked perfect. And it smelled exactly like a walker.
He stood, backing away from the corpse. His hands were covered in blood. He wiped them on his jeans, they were already ruined anyway, and tried not to think about what he'd just done.
The raincoat went upstairs. He carried it at arm's length, left it outside the manager's office door where Shane would find it.
Then back downstairs.
He checked his watch. 4:00 AM. Dawn was maybe an hour away. Perfect timing.
The main entrance was still barricaded. He put his shoulder against the outermost cabinet and pushed.
It moved slowly.
He created a gap just wide enough for a kid his size to squeeze through. The walkers outside hadn't noticed yet. They were still wandering.
He grabbed the crowbar and took a breath.
This was it. No turning back after this.
He slipped through the gap and into the horde.
---
The cold night wind blew over Lucien.
Walkers everywhere.
They filled the street. One passed within inches of him. The walker shambled by, its rotting clothes brushing against the cloak. He felt the contact through the fabric. His heart was hammering so hard he was sure they'd hear it.
But the walker just wandered on, turning in a slow circle before heading back the way it came.
He tested it further. He walked slowly past another walker. The thing's head turned slightly, tracking some distant sound, but its eyes looked right through him. Then, feeling bolder, he hooked his crowbar around a walker's ankle and pulled.
The walker stumbled, crashed into the one in front of it. Both went down. They let out confused snarls, struggled back to their feet, and wandered off. Neither looked for what had tripped them.
---
The plan was simple. Draw walkers away from the building in small groups and lead them far enough that they wouldn't wander back.
Execution was harder.
Lucien moved to the edge of the horde and tapped the crowbar against the pavement.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Three walkers near him turned toward it. Then they started moving, following the sound. He walked backward, still tapping. The walkers followed. He led them two blocks away, then stopped. The walkers kept going, drawn by something else now, maybe a sound in the distance. But it didn't matter. They were gone.
Lucien turned and headed back to the office building.
Round two.
He repeated the process.
Tap tap tap.
Draw them away, lead them off, and return.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Time blurred. He lost count of how many trips he made. The sky was starting to lighten. His arm ached from holding the crowbar. But the street was clearing. What had been a packed horde was now scattered groups.
One more group.
Lucien tapped the crowbar. Five walkers turned, and he led them away.
When he finally stopped, the sun was cresting the horizon. He found a bench, one of those public seating areas that cities put up and no one ever used, and collapsed onto it.
Finally, he was done.
He sat there, watching the office building. His eyes were growing heavy as the adrenaline wore off. Just a few more minutes, then he'd move.
---
Shane jerked awake to nothing. The room was too quiet. He sat up, checking his surroundings.
Everything normal.
Except...
"Lucien?"
No answer.
He was on his feet before he'd fully processed the thought. The space under the desk was empty. So was the rest of the office.
That's when he saw the alarm clock on the floor next to where he'd been sleeping. And next to it, a folded piece of paper.
He grabbed the note, unfolded it with hands that weren't quite steady.
[Officer Shane,
If you're reading this, I've already left to do my secret mission!
Thank you for looking after me these past few days. Now it's my turn to help you.
Yesterday I saw through the window, some survivors covered themselves in walker blood and guts, and the walkers walked right past them! They didn't even notice!
So I decided to try it. I'm going to leave, make some noise outside, and draw them away from the building.
I made a disguise for you too. It's outside the door. It's really gross, but it should work.
I also left you the alarm clock. Remember to turn it off. But you can use it to attract walkers if you need to.
Please don't worry about me, and definitely don't come looking for me. I told you, I'm a wizard. I'll survive.
You should leave quickly. There are people waiting for you. You said Rick's family is also your family, right?
They must be scared right now. Like I was before. They need you.
Go protect them.
- Your friend,Lucien]
Shane read it twice.
Then a third time, because his brain refused to process what it was saying. The kid had gone into a horde of walkers to clear a path for Shane to escape.
"No," he said out loud. "No, you didn't. Tell me you didn't..."
He ran to the window.
The street below had changed. Where yesterday there'd been a packed mass of walkers, shoulder to shoulder, now there were maybe a dozen.
The horde was gone.
Lucien had done this.
He'd actually done it.
"Jesus Christ."
He looked down at the note in his hand, at the handwriting that was trying so hard to sound brave. The kid had risked his life to clear a path for Shane to get to Lori and Carl. And Shane had been sleeping through all of it.
Guilt hit him.
Lucien had given him a chance.
He wasn't going to waste it. He looked out the window one more time, scanning the street for any sign of the kid.
"You better stay alive," he said quietly, pressing a hand against the glass. "You hear me? You better fucking survive."