The gunshot drew most of the walkers surrounding the train station toward me.
"Get over here, you fuckers!" I yelled.
At the sound of my voice, the few remaining stragglers turned as well, growling as they charged. I ran, firing as I went to keep their attention. Behind me, the roar of the horde swelled like a tidal wave.
Once they were all chasing me, I sprinted toward the woods. It would be harder for them to follow in there. I tossed the empty shotgun aside—it was only slowing me down.
I glanced back and saw Lee carrying Clementine out of the station as the group escaped, forcing their way through the last few walkers.
No runners.
Good.
If there had been even one, the entire group would've died.
I easily outran the horde and slipped deeper into the woods as the stench of rot faded. Only a few undead kept following. I looked back and sighed in relief.
Now I could finally go my own way.
Then the gunfire erupted.
A lot of it.
And engines—many of them.
All of it coming from the train station.
My stomach dropped.
I turned and sprinted back.
When I reached the source of the noise, I hid in the bushes a few hundred feet away and watched.
Six military vehicles had pulled up—massive armored beasts painted camouflage green, some with cracked windshields and bullet-scarred plating. Two had mounted machine guns. The only thing out of place was a small jeep trailing behind them.
Around twenty—maybe twenty-five—soldiers climbed out, heavily armed and clad in full body armor. They moved with ruthless efficiency, mowing down the horde. Bullets tore through the undead. Grenades detonated. Limbs flew.
Within seconds, everything around the station was reduced to mangled pieces.
Then I saw Lee and the others.
They were on their knees, hands locked behind their heads, surrounded by soldiers aiming rifles at them. Terror was etched into every face. Two soldiers stood closest, weapons trained directly on the group.
When the last walker fell, the gunfire stopped.
A door on the lead vehicle opened, and a man stepped out—the leader, obviously. A cigar burned between his lips as he approached. He began speaking, but even when I focused, his voice was too faint. I was too far away.
I considered getting closer… then stopped myself.
This wasn't my problem.
And even if I wanted to help, what could I do? They were trained, heavily armed soldiers. I had a pistol with four bullets and a sword. I couldn't protect anyone from that.
So I turned away.
I decided to leave them to their fate.
But just as I took a step, a voice cracked through the air.
"OVER MY FUCKING DEAD BODY!"
Lee.
He was screaming at the soldier holding Clementine at gunpoint.
My foot froze mid-step.
The rifle's barrel was aimed straight at Clementine's head. She stared at it, trembling.
I told myself—again and again—this is not my problem.
But my legs wouldn't move.
Even after everything… after trying so hard to stay distant… I still cared. I'd felt it earlier when Lee's name was called—fear, sharp and sudden. Fear for him. For his safety.
And what terrified me most was how deeply I had begun to care about the group…
especially Clementine.
I didn't understand why.
I didn't want these feelings. Attachments only led to disaster in this world. That was why I'd planned to leave and walk my own path.
But even knowing that—knowing stepping in could get me killed—I still moved forward.
Quietly.
Slowly.
I had no plan, no strategy. Thinking about it logically made me feel ridiculous, yet I kept going.
One thought echoed in my mind:
I need to do something.I have to protect them.
I slipped behind the back of the train station, finally close enough to hear their voices clearly.
"I don't care whether you're citizens or not," the man with the cigar said. "That girl is clearly sick. She won't make it. Better to end her suffering right here."
His eyes locked onto Clementine—weak, barely conscious, wrapped in cloth on Lee's back.
"She just needs medical help," Lee snapped, trying to rise despite the rifles aimed at him.
The leader ignored him and glanced at the soldier holding Clementine at gunpoint.
"And I already told you," Lee growled, glaring at the man, "you'll have to go through me to get to her. Over my fucking dead body."
The leader studied him in silence, then removed his cigar.
"Fine," he said coldly. "Then die with her. As for the rest of you—I already warned you. We're taking all your supplies. Resist, and you die too."
Panic rippled through the group.
"Shouldn't you be protecting us instead of stealing and killing?" Kenny shouted.
"Yes," the leader replied calmly. "We should. But things have changed. Our objective is to eliminate threats and gather supplies—even if that means killing civilians. It's for the greater good."
He exhaled smoke.
"Greater good my ass! She needs help!" Kenny roared.
"Please… help us," Lee begged. Clementine coughed weakly, her tired eyes pleading.
"If I hand out medicine to everyone, we'll run out in days," the leader said, unmoved. "I've seen hundreds of wounded civilians. If I helped them all, none of us would survive. It's better to eliminate the ones who won't make it—saves supplies for those who can still be useful. Like my soldiers."
As he spoke, I crept closer, sharpening every sense. I could feel where each soldier stood, intuition guiding me like a second set of eyes. I could predict how they might move. I heard their breathing, the shift of boots on gravel, the faint rustle of gear.
Using everything I had, I slipped between them unnoticed, inch by inch.
One by one, I passed them until I stopped behind the vehicle the leader leaned against.
"Enough talking," he said, pointing at Lee. "Leave the girl… or die with her."
Even then, Lee held Clementine tighter.
"Lee… let me go," Clementine whispered weakly, struggling, but he refused.
The leader sighed and glanced at the soldier aiming his rifle.
The soldier nodded, his hands shaking as he prepared to fire. The others looked away, tense, bracing for the shot.
He steadied his aim.
But I moved first.
I stepped out from behind the vehicle and pressed my gun against the leader's skull.
"Let them go," I said, my voice steady. "Or I blow your head off."
Every rifle snapped toward me.
I ignored them and pressed the barrel harder.
"Tell them to put their guns down."
Lee and the others stared at me in shock. Clementine's eyes brightened the moment she saw me.
This was my only plan—take the leader hostage.
"Are you deaf?" I snapped. "Tell them!"
The leader slowly dropped his cigar and crushed it under his boot.
Then he laughed.
"Fuck no."
"What?" I blinked, caught off guard.
"I'm their platoon commander," he said calmly. "I was ready to die for my men the day I enlisted. You think I'm some politician afraid of death? I'm a Marine. If I cared about my own skin, I never would've signed up."
He tilted his head, exposing his temple to my gun.
"So go on. Kill me. It'll just make it easier for my men to kill you without holding back."
His voice didn't shake.
No fear.No hesitation.Nothing.
My plan was falling apart.
If I shot him, his men would slaughter the group—and me.
"Well?" he said, lighting another cigar. "Pull the trigger."
When I didn't, he slowly turned his head. His eyes widened.
"You're… a kid."
He turned to his soldiers.
"How the hell did you idiots let a kid walk up and press a gun to my head? None of you saw this?!"
One soldier clenched his jaw. Another stared at the ground. They all looked away, ashamed.
He faced me again, completely unconcerned with the gun at his skull.
"Kid, if you're not going to shoot, lower the gun. Let's talk."
He took a drag.
"I'm Lieutenant Amir. What's your name?"
My fingers trembled with anger.
This wasn't going like the movies.
And I knew the truth:
Even if I shot him now, his men would fill me with bullets before his body hit the ground.
I hesitated… Then.
I lowered the gun.
And decided to talk. Making up my mind that if anything goes wrong, I will kill this shit first.