The four men stood atop the hospital roof, the cold wind biting at their faces as they surveyed the scene below. A sea of walkers had begun to converge on the hospital's perimeter, their hollow moans rising like a grotesque chorus. The gunshots must have drawn them as if they were moths to a flame.
Lee's gaze snapped to Oberson, who flashed a crimson-stained grin despite his battered face. "What's so goddamn funny?" Lee growled, his fingers tightening around his pistol.
Oberson chuckled wetly, wincing as the movement tugged at his broken jaw. "You," he spat, a glob of blood hitting the rooftop. "Thinking this pathetic plan will work." His eyes gleamed with manic certainty. "When it fails... I'll take my time with each of you. Especially you Lee."
Kenny was on him before the last word faded. His fist slammed into Oberson's gut with a sickening thud, doubling the man over as air exploded from his lungs in a wheezing gasp. "Tough talk for a man in your position," Kenny snarled, grabbing a handful of Oberson's hair to yank his head up. "Heard every word through that walkie, how you handled those people—even kids... Gonna show you exactly how I feel about that."
Oberson, still pinned by Kenny, smirked and spat a glob of blood onto his face. "Touchy. You got kids of your own?" His grin widened as Kenny's eyes betrayed him. "Good. Changed my mind—they'll die screaming first."
Kenny slammed Oberson's skull against the concrete before delivering an unknow amount of brutal kicks to his ribs. Cracks echoed through the air, and Oberson's smirk finally twisted into a grimace—though his eyes still burned with malice.
"Kenny, enough." Lee grabbed his arm. "We need him breathing. Or have you forgotten the plan?"
"Fuck the plan!" Kenny drove his boot into Oberson's face with a wet crunch, spraying bile and teeth across the rooftop. "We've got our boat. We leave now. He's not leaving here breathing." His chest heaved with ragged breaths.
Mark whirled on Kenny, voice low and suspicious. "That boat fits six. Tops." A beat. Then, colder: "...You were thinking of leaving us?"
"No!" Lee stepped between them. "He's our ticket to a second boat. One that gets us all out." He shot a glare at Oberson's broken form. "Alive."
Kenny stared down at Oberson, his face a mask of cold fury. With one final, brutal stomp to the ribs, he growled, "Worthless piece of shit." As he turned away, Oberson gasped through broken teeth, but Kenny wasn't done. "This ain't over. Long as you're still breathing by the end of this, I'll make sure you regret ever mentioning my family." A thick glob of spit landed on Oberson's cheek.
"So we're exchanging this guy for another boat? Sounds good to me." Mark interrupted as he suddenly began scanning the rooftop anxiously. "Where is she? She said she'd be here."
Lee frowned. "Who—?"
"That'd be me."
A lean figure stepped from the shadows, blonde hair catching the moonlight. Molly leaned against a ventilation unit, arms crossed. "Gotta say, you boys know how to make an entrance. Surprised you made it out in one—"
Her voice died mid-sentence.
Her ice axe clattered to the ground as her gaze locked onto Oberson, who managed a bloody grin despite his shattered ribs. "W-Well... ain't this a reunion," he wheezed. "Miss me, sweethe—"
"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"
Molly moved like lightning. She snatched up her axe and charged, her scream raw with an untold amount of pent-up rage.
Lee moved before he could think, planting himself between Molly and her target. "Stop! We need him ali—"
"MOVE!" Molly roared, shoving past him with enough force to make him stagger. Her ice axe flashed downward—only to be yanked off-course at the last second by Lee's grip on her arm. The blade still found flesh, opening a shallow gash across Oberson's cheek. "You do not wanna get in my way."
Lee recovered, voice low but firm. "You're right. I don't want to fight you." He held up empty hands. "But he's worth more breathing than dead right now."
Molly's knuckles whitened around her axe handle. Across from her, Mark and Kenny both had weapons raised—the latter's eyes filled with hatred for Oberson but overwon with loyalty to Lee.
"You absolute fucking morons," Molly hissed, gaze darting between them. "You went after Oberson and didn't think to mention it?!"
Kenny gave a humorless shrug. "Didn't come up." Mark shot him a withering look.
All traces of humor evaporated as Molly's gaze locked onto Oberson's blood-streaked face. The bastard was still grinning, even broken and beaten on the ground.
"He's a plague," she snarled, every muscle in her body coiled tight. "Every breath he takes poisons this world. Elderly and..." Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Children. He's butchered them all with a smile in pursuit of his 'survival of the fittest' community."
She turned her burning glare to the group, "You really want that blood on your hands too? Letting him walk away makes you just as guilty."
"Oberson is a means to an end." He glanced at Oberson, who was struggling to his knees. "Once he's served his purpose, I couldn't give a damn what happens to him. But his life offers an opportunity to make the people we care about safe." He motioned to Mark and Kenny.
Molly's glare softened just enough as she lowered her weapon a fraction. The conflict in her eyes was palpable. "Once your deal's done... you won't stop me from killing him?" When Lee gave a firm shake of his head, she straightened, though the hard set of her jaw remained. "Good. Then the second your trade's over, I put him down."
Oberson taunted through split lips "You've got a lot more fiery, did losing 'her' do that?" Molly began to instantly lose her patience, her body visibly trembling as she took a heavy step forwards.
"Enough." Lee hauled out zip-ties and duct tape from his pack. "He wants you to snap. Don't fall for it." With brutal efficiency, he wrenched Oberson's arms behind his back, the plastic ties biting into flesh. The duct tape silenced him with a final, too-tight strip across his mouth. Oberson's muffled laughter still somehow seeped through.
"Great, now that he's finally quiet, let's move," Mark said, peering over the hospital's edge. Below, a sea of walkers shambled toward the building, drawn by the earlier gunfire like moths to flame. "Whole lot of them coming our way."
Molly rounded a corner with practiced ease, her movements sure. "I know these streets. There's a way out that won't stir up the geeks." Her confidence spoke of countless nights navigating Savannah's corpse-ridden alleys.
Lee shoved Oberson forward, then paused. Spotting a thick cloth discarded nearby, he swiftly wrapped it around their prisoner's head in a tight blindfold. "Don't need him memorizing our route or knowing where the house is," he explained at the others' questioning looks.
"Smart," Kenny grunted, while Mark gave an approving nod.
The group carved a silent path through Savannah's graveyard streets—Molly at the helm, her footsteps sure as a bloodhound's. She wove them through skeletal buildings and alleys stinking of decay, routes etched into her bones from months of survival.
Lee marched Oberson forward like a ragdoll, grip bruising on his bound wrists. Every stumble earned a shove; every muffled chuckle through the gag made Lee's jaw tighten.
Kenny and Mark brought up the rear, rifles sweeping the ruins. Shadows played tricks—was that a walker's shuffle or just the wind? Mark's finger hovered over the trigger, Kenny's breaths shallow behind clenched teeth.
---
Creak!
The rusted gates groaned in protest as the group stumbled into the overgrown garden. Shoulders sagged with exhaustion as the metal bars clanged shut behind them, offering their first moment of respite since the hospital.
Molly's boots scuffed against the cracked patio tiles as she took in the safehouse. "So this is your hideout," she mused, arms crossed. Her gaze snagged on the shed—then froze. The boat's hull peeked through the half-open door, polished enough to catch the fading light. "Huh. Actually thought that part was bullshit."
Mark arched a brow. "What, we seem like the lying type?"
"No," she said, fingers tapping against her elbow. "Just figured Crawford hoarded anything that actually floats." She turned sharply, eyes locking onto Lee. "I want in. Got your boys to that hospital in one piece. That's worth a seat."
"Like hell you are." Kenny stepped forward, his rifle a hairsbreadth from grazing his shoulder. "We appreciate your help guiding us there, but we don't know a goddamn thing about you."
Molly didn't flinch. "Relax, gramps. You know I could have left you on your own back there but I didn't. I bet you'd still be on that roof right now if not for me. Hell, maybe Lee here would be dead."
Kenny's retort died as Lee shoved Oberson toward him. "If this deal pans out, there'll be room." His voice dropped as he eyed their bagged prisoner. "But first, we squeeze him dry. Everything he knows—guns, people, weaknesses. We need to know what we're dealing with here."
"Fine." Kenny's glare could've melted steel as he looked at Molly, but he wrenched Oberson toward the house. "He'll spill everything." A grin devoid of warmth. "Down to his mother's maiden name." Oberson's muffled laughter seeped through the gag.
Lee spotted movement in the window—Clementine's face lighting up before darting away. "Attic," he said sharply. "Keep him gagged. And quiet." The unspoken for the kids hung in the air.
"No shit." Kenny dragged Oberson inside like a sack of grain, the man's boots scraping uselessly against the ground.
Seconds later, the door burst open as Clementine came bounding across the garden. "You're back!" she exclaimed, skidding to a stop in front of Lee. Her eyes darted over him anxiously. "Kenny said you might be in trouble. Are you okay?"
Lee grinned, giving an exaggerated once-over of his intact limbs. "Still in one piece, aren't I?" He chuckled as Clementine's attention shifted to Molly, her head tilting with open curiosity.
Molly blinked, caught off-guard by the direct stare. "What's up, kid? Never seen a girl so cool before?" She wiped at her cheek playfully.
Clementine shyly pulled her cap lower, shaking her head. "I'm Clementine." She offered a small smile. "Nice to meet you."
"Molly," she replied, her usual sharp edges softening slightly. "Heard a lot about you on the way, Clem."
The moment shattered when Clementine suddenly gripped Lee's hand with surprising strength. "Can we talk? Alone?" Her voice dropped to a whisper only he could hear.
"Sure thing, sweet pea." Lee shot Molly an apologetic glance before letting himself be towed toward the doghouse. The second they were out of earshot, Clementine whirled on him—her expression far too serious for an eight-year-old.
Lee crouched to her level, stomach tightening. "That look means trouble. What's wrong?"
Clementine lowered her gaze for a moment, gathering her courage before looking up with determined eyes. "You promised we could look for my parents."
A weight settled in Lee's chest. "We will, sweet pea. Just need to get the boats figured out first."
"Boats?" Clementine caught the word immediately, emphasizing the plural with a hopeful lilt. "We're getting another one?"
Lee nodded. "That man Kenny's handling - the one with the bag over his head? He's going to help us get a second boat so we can all stay together."
Clementine tilted her head, a hint of confusion painted her small face. "Is the bag because he's... you know... really ugly?"
Lee couldn't suppress a sudden laugh, immediately making Clementine's cheeks flush crimson. "Oh! That was mean. I'm sorry," she backtracked, suddenly fascinated by her shoes.
Lee couldn't help but smile as Clementine's giggle bubbled up - that rare, bright sound cutting through the apocalypse's gloom like sunlight. He gave her shoulder one last squeeze before his expression sobered. Studying her determined face, he realized there would never be a good time. Just now, and the choices they made in it.
"Alright," he sighed, the decision settling heavily in his chest. "We'll go look for your parents. Gotta let Crawford stew anyway."
Clementine's entire being seemed to ignite. "Really?!" The word burst from her in an incredulous rush as she bounced on her toes. Lee's stomach dropped as her joy made his palms slick - this fragile hope was terrifying as he knew what was coming.
Before he could second-guess, she was already a blur of motion. "I'll get my backpack!" The door slammed behind her whirlwind exit, leaving Lee alone with his doubts and the echo of her happiness.
"Christ, what am I doing?" The words came out ragged as he braced himself against the weathered wall, palm pressed to his forehead like he could physically push the doubts away.
He'd been so certain back with Carley - certain that Clementine deserved closure, no matter how brutal. But now? The weight of what he'd just set in motion coiled in his gut like a live wire.
A shaky breath. Then another.
"She needs this." The whisper was more for himself than anyone. He knew that relief-cut agony too well—the way knowing his parent's and brother's fate had hollowed him out, yet somehow let him start piecing himself back together.
The wall's rough texture bit into his knuckles as he pushed upright.
Whatever happens. He'd be there.