Early the next morning, Lin Feng rose before anyone else and walked out onto the open lawn to stretch.

His form was nothing to admire, but after working through a full set of stretches and breathing in the cool morning air carrying the scent of grass, he felt clear-headed and awake.

One final lazy stretch. Brain fully online.

At the same time, light sleepers Cathy and Marcus crawled out of their tent, exchanged a quick greeting with Lin Feng, grabbed a washbasin, and headed off toward the well to freshen up.

Lin Feng watched them go with a smile. Life was slowly getting better. Everyone was...

Then something pricked at his back. Not pain, more like a needle. Lin Feng narrowed his eyes, reached up and scratched his head with deliberate casualness, and turned around as though it were pure coincidence, like his body had just decided to face a different direction.

Faint, barely there, a silhouette flitted through the distant bushes and was gone.

Someone watching him? Or was it the farm they had their eyes on?

His expression stayed flat. But the hand scratching his head pressed harder, like he was digging out an annoying louse.

Looks like today's going to be busy.

He walked over to Daryl's tent and called out twice before getting a groggy response from inside. A moment of rustling followed, and then Daryl pushed through the flap, still pulling on a shirt, and looked at him with a puzzled squint. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's watching us. I need you to go out and find where they're hiding."

The grogginess in Daryl's eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a flat, cold gleam. A nod. "Leave it to me. Long as they've been through here, I'll find the trail."

Not arrogance. Just the quiet confidence of someone who'd spent years hunting in these woods.

Lin Feng didn't doubt it for a second. "I'll go grab Merle. We move together — same as last time."

Daryl nodded, something flickering across the face briefly. The last cooperative hunt came to mind, unbidden. Only difference this time was that the prey wasn't a deer.

It was people.

Merle crawled out of the tent not long after, but the first thing Merle did wasn't talk, it was tilt back a canteen and pour water straight down the throat. Then Merle lit a cigarette, listened to Lin Feng's rundown without interrupting, and when it was done, grinned wide.

"Then let's hit them."

What they wanted, why they were there, Merle didn't know and didn't care to find out.

Lin Feng said so. Daryl agreed. That was enough.

"Eat something first," Lin Feng said. "Then gear up and we move."

As he said it, he caught sight of two slender figures heading toward camp from the direction of the cabin, each carrying something.

Maggie and Beth.

"Morning, Lin. You all heading out for something?"

Lin Feng glanced over at Beth, then back at Maggie, and made the call quickly. "Going hunting. We're low on fresh meat."

Maggie caught that glance. The smile stayed but went slightly stiff at the edges.

"Well. Good hunting, then — come back with plenty. Just stay safe and don't be out too long."

"We will. Don't worry."

Maggie pushed the bundle into Lin Feng's hands. "Eat breakfast first. Just something small, please don't turn it down."

Lin Feng had no reason to refuse. These rough men's cooking was functional at best. Edible. That was the most generous word for it.

Marcus came back leading Cathy by the hand. The eyes swept the scene once, Daryl over by the gear tent, already sorting equipment; Merle standing near Lin Feng, notably absent of that usual troublemaker's smirk, and something clicked behind Marcus's expression.

He crouched down in front of Cathy. "Hey. Daddy's got something he needs to take care of today. Think you could go hang out with Beth for a while?"

Cathy looked a little confused, but nodded anyway. "Okay, Daddy."

Marcus pressed a kiss to that forehead and forced the corners of his mouth up. "That's my girl."

Maggie and Beth didn't linger. A few more brief words, and then they were heading back toward the cabin with Cathy in tow.

Lin Feng waved the group over to sit, pulled sandwiches, milk, and cornbread from the basket, and passed them around.

Marcus took the food. Paused. "Lin — are we in trouble?"

Lin Feng didn't hedge. He went through the whole thing again, same as before.

"All right." Marcus's voice was even. Steady. He sounded no different than usual.

But in the back of his mind, he was already running through how he was going to talk Lin Feng out of whatever Lin Feng was about to do.

Or maybe... maybe it'd be simpler to just handle it himself when the time came.

Merle bit into a sandwich and said with a smirk, "Relax, pal. Don't get so worked up, or we're going to start looking like the bad guys."

Daryl, who had been eating with head down, slowly lifted the gaze.

That look said everything: How do you have the nerve to say that out loud?

Merle's smirk twitched. "...The hell are you staring at me like that for? Do I really look that bad?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Fuck! Yeah, okay, I'm not exactly a saint, but we're on the same side! This is discrimination! You're all running on pure subjective bias!"

The wall of silence hit Merle like a door to the face. Enraged, sandwich forgotten, Merle launched into a full tirade.

Nobody received it. Nobody reacted. The other three had apparently developed a shared immunity to Merle's frequency.

Once the far-from-friendly breakfast wrapped up, the group moved together to the supply tent.

Inside: weapons and gear sorted into sections, ammunition separated from firearms, basic fireproofing and moisture-proofing done throughout.

Say what you want about the man's temper, the work was solid. Better than anything the three non-veterans in the group could have managed.

Lin Feng dug out the ballistic vest he'd scavenged from the King County police station, seated the plates firmly, and patted it down. Not military grade. But it'd stop a pistol round without much trouble.

After a brief pause, Lin Feng picked up the shotgun, loaded shells into pockets and pack, added dry rations and a canteen, and stepped out.

Merle and Marcus both went with AR-15s. Marcus had swapped out the holographic sight for a 4x scope pulled from a hunting rifle, and had a backpack slung over one shoulder with two first-aid kits inside.

Daryl stuck with the crossbow, plus a Glock 17 on the hip.

Lin Feng looked them over. Nodded once.

"Let's go. Time to show them they picked the wrong people."

The group fell in behind him and pushed into the tree line.

A hunt, and a counter-hunt, had just begun.

➤ Next: Whether It's On or Off, You Know Best

Chapter 32 - Whether It's On or Off, You Know Best

When the group reached the patch of bushes Lin Feng had spotted earlier, Daryl pinched a freshly snapped twig between his fingers, pale green, the break still clean.

"Someone was here, and they left in a hurry. Sloppy work. Not a hunter, not military or law enforcement."

"Yeah, not very bold either. Careless. Probably just an ordinary worker before all this."

As Daryl spoke, something else caught his eye. Daryl crouched and measured a footprint on the ground with one hand. "Height's around five-foot-eleven, but weight's only about a hundred and thirty pounds. Hasn't been eating well. Probably went hungry for a long time."

Lin Feng stood to the side staring at Daryl like he was watching a miracle happen. Dude, are you running wallhacks?

Daryl stood back up, expression flat, and turned to study their campsite from the tree line.

"You can see everything from here. The campsite, Hershel's cabin, the barn. Not the best position, but it gets the job done.

These guys might've been watching us for a while. Or they came specifically for the farm. Either way, there are enough of them that they think they can take us."

Daryl finished the rundown and looked at Lin Feng. "So what do we do?"

Lin Feng gave a short, sharp scoff. "Back home, there's a saying: you can guard against a thief for a thousand days, but a thief only needs one. They've already set their sights on us. What's there to talk about?"

"We hit first and wipe them out."

Merle let out a low whistle, a nasty grin spreading across the face. "Lin, I knew you'd make the right call."

Marcus spoke up. "None left alive?"

Lin Feng looked over at Marcus and rolled his eyes. "What else? Wait for one of them to crawl back, round up more people, and come finish us off?"

Marcus nodded and said nothing, but something in his chest quietly loosened.

He wasn't afraid of Lin Feng deciding to kill people. He was afraid of Lin Feng deciding to let them go.

He didn't want Cathy spending every day looking down the barrel of someone else's gun.

Daryl said nothing, just gave a short nod. "I'll track them."

With that, Daryl stepped forward and began following the trail the retreating man had left behind.

Lin Feng and the others hung back a few paces so they wouldn't trample the sign and throw Daryl off.

It didn't take long. The trail cut through a narrow stretch of woods and opened onto a highway, abandoned vehicles scattered across it in no particular order.

Daryl stopped near a bush and stood there squinting, scanning the road.

Lin Feng and the others eased up alongside and murmured, "What is it?"

Daryl pointed at a sedan sitting on the shoulder. "That car's wrong. The space behind it is too empty. It didn't break down during the evacuation—someone parked it there deliberately."

Lin Feng pulled the binoculars from his pack, made a small adjustment, and said, "Someone in the car. Probably a lookout. Looks like they fell asleep."

Merle reached over and snatched the binoculars, looked for a moment, and let out a low, unpleasant chuckle.

"You leave your eyes at home? You didn't see the pickup parked behind that sedan? Black tarp over the bed. Someone in there too—just not watching our side."

Lin Feng clicked his tongue. Merle Dixon, you bastard. Are you running hacks as well?

Merle didn't bother explaining. Just lowered the binoculars and asked, voice edged with anticipation, "How do we split it?"

No fear in those eyes. None. Just the quiet excitement of someone about to cause problems.

"Marcus stays here. The three of us move up. Merle, take the one in the truck bed. The one in the cab is mine. Daryl, arrow ready the whole time."

"Heh. Leave it to me." Merle was already peeling off to the side, moving forward through the brush.

Lin Feng watched, then glanced over at Daryl. Is your sibling always like this?

Whether Daryl didn't catch it or just didn't feel like answering, the response was a single eye-roll before moving out.

A few minutes later, Lin Feng worked through the vehicles' blind spots and closed the distance to the sedan.

Daryl checked their positions, confirmed both were set, and flashed a hand signal.

Lin Feng grabbed the door handle and yanked it open. The man inside had just enough time for his eyes to go wide before an iron fist filled his entire field of vision, and then nothing.

By the time Lin Feng was dragging the man out by the collar, Merle had already finished on the other side.

They hauled both men together into the same spot. "Daryl, get up the road and keep watch. We'll start talking to them."

Daryl nodded, crossbow raised, and crossed the highway into the tree line on the far side.

Lin Feng looked at the remaining two. "Time's short and we've got work to do. Either of you know how to run an interrogation?"

Merle went quiet for exactly one second, then stared at Lin Feng with genuine bafflement. "Are you actually stupid? Who needs to be taught something like that?"

Marcus rolled his eyes. "Lin, you really do talk too much."

Then Marcus stepped forward and drove a rifle butt into the nearest man's skull.

The impact split the skin instantly. Blood welled up from the top of his head and ran down.

The man came awake screaming.

He looked up at the three figures standing over him with weapons and his hand shot toward where his gun should have been.

A dagger punched straight through his palm and pinned it down.

"Quiet. I ask, you answer. Give me something I don't like, I take a finger. Understood?"

The man shook his head.

Marcus twisted the blade half a turn.

"Understood now?"

The shriek that tore out of him woke the other man beside him, but the moment that one opened his eyes and blinked in confusion, Merle's boot came down and put him right back under.

The pain was enough. The first man nodded over and over, yes, yes, yes spilling out of him in a broken loop.

"How many people in your camp? Why are you watching that farm? Three seconds. Go."

Marcus's voice was level and cold. So cold it was hard to connect him to the person who told Cathy bedtime stories every night and talked gently until the lights went out.

"Fifteen. We have fifteen people. The farm—"

The moment he started reaching for an excuse, Marcus pulled the dagger free and drove it into his thigh.

The man's eyes flew open. His pupils snapped to pinpoints. The scream that came out of him was ragged and shrill.

"AARGH!"

"Quiet, or you're dead."

The sound cut off. Sheer survival instinct clamped down on it. Blood and cold sweat ran freely down his forehead.

"Answer without thinking. Why are you watching the farm?"

"Food! We're running out of food, and we need somewhere stable to hold up!"

"How many guns?"

"Over twenty! Rifles, handguns, both!"

"Did anyone leave camp today? How?"

"Yes! Miska drove out!"

"Alone?"

"Alone!"

"Where did Miska go? When are they coming back?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. We all move on our own, the only time we're all together is at night for food."

"Liar." Marcus said it flatly, yanked the dagger out, and put another hole in him.

"No! I'm not lying, I swear!" The man's leg had started to move on its own, scrabbling, trying to drag the rest of him somewhere, anywhere, else.

Marcus watched it and understood. That wasn't a choice. That was what happened when a person had nothing left holding them together.

He pulled back.

"Thank you. Sorry."

➤ Next: The Truth of the Apocalypse