Lin Feng let out a quiet breath of relief. Good, otherwise he would've had to go full Russian counter-terrorism on the situation.

He drew his pistol and began putting follow-up rounds into the bodies on the ground.

Thorough service. Heads aired out, courtesy of Lin Feng.

Daryl looked at the man pinned through the palm, still struggling, and solved the problem the simple way, a boot to the back of the skull. Out cold.

The cleanup was fast. Lin Feng was naturally quick and efficient, and beyond that, he couldn't afford to drag it out. If anyone came back around and got off a lucky shot at the wrong person, that would be a catastrophic loss.

These were his demon-king teammates, gathered through no small amount of effort. Every damn one of them was worth their weight in gold.

Marcus came running down from the hillside with the rifle, but before Marcus could even catch a breath, Lin Feng's voice cut across the camp: "Marcus — treat this gentleman's wounds, then check the others over."

Lin Feng paused, glancing toward Merle and Daryl. He let his eyes settle on the man with the bolt still through his arm, then gave the brothers a look.

They caught it immediately. Daryl stepped forward and pulled the crossbow bolt free, pausing to wince at the arrowhead, then grabbed Miska by the collar and dragged Miska toward the tree line, face dark and unreadable.

"Merle," Lin Feng called after them. "Don't wreck the head."

The smirk on Merle's face went stiff. Merle gave a single nod.

A shrill scream rose from the trees shortly after.

Lin Feng didn't look up. He turned his attention to the two sisters, both nearly stripped bare, and pointed toward a nearby tent. "You might want to rest in there for a while. Get changed."

His tone wasn't warm. It wasn't particularly kind. But to two girls who had just barely escaped something unthinkable, it might as well have been a lifeline.

They glanced over at their father, who was having the gash on his forehead stitched shut by Marcus. Andrew gave a faint nod. Both girls turned and ran into the tent together.

"Thank you. For everything."

Lin Feng swapped out his pistol magazine without looking up. "Don't mention it. Call it luck — they had their eyes on our camp since this morning, and we happened to show up today."

Plain words. Blunt as a hammer. But they landed exactly right, carving a single clear message into Andrew's mind: do not make an enemy of these people.

"That's two separate things, sir." Andrew tried to smile, to ease the weight of the moment, but the wound on Andrew's face pulled tight and the smile came out wrong. "My name is Andrew Swirlinson. I used to be an automotive repair engineer."

Lin Feng's eyes lit up like someone had thrown a switch.

The team wasn't short on fighters. What it was missing were technical people, specialists.

Marcus could haul someone back from the edge of death. Andrew Swirlinson could make sure the vehicle getting them away from death didn't break down mid-run.

This one was his. Lin Feng had already decided.

"Lin Feng. Call me Lin." He slid the fresh magazine home. "Are you trying to reach someone? Friends, family?"

Andrew's expression dimmed. "No. We were just looking for somewhere safe to hide. Somewhere out of the way, away from those damned walkers."

Lin Feng kept his expression level and let the corners of his mouth do nothing. "Going it alone won't keep you alive long. Want to consider joining us?"

The question hit something. Andrew blinked, and the reply came out before any real thought: "Join you?"

"Yes. My camp needs someone who can keep vehicles running, all the time, without fail. I think that's you." Lin Feng shrugged. "If you're not interested, no pressure."

Marcus had finished the suture, a neat knot, snipped clean with medical scissors, instruments already being wiped down and stowed for next time.

Andrew sat in the quiet that followed and turned it over.

Miska had talked Andrew into coming out here. That single decision had nearly cost Andrew's children everything.

And now here was another person asking Andrew to follow them somewhere.

Andrew didn't have an answer yet.

Lin Feng didn't push. He rested a hand briefly on Andrew's shoulder. "No rush. Take your time."

Then he stood and got to work breaking down the camp.

Marcus packed the last of the tools away and zipped the first-aid kit back into his pack. "Lin is the best leader I've ever come across," Marcus said, not looking up from what he was doing. "The nerve of a lion and the precision of a viper.

He doesn't shortchange his people. He doesn't gamble with their lives. Worth thinking about, friend."

Marcus swung the pack onto both shoulders and fell in alongside Lin Feng, clearing the camp.

Andrew watched the two of them work and said nothing. Maybe worth a shot.

The screaming from the woods had stopped.

Merle and Daryl emerged from the tree line a few minutes later, both carrying fresh bloodstains on their clothes. Merle was wearing a wide, satisfied grin, and made straight for Lin Feng.

"Lin. Got something good out of that one before the end."

Lin Feng's hands paused over a crate of firearms. He looked up. "An armory?"

The grin flatlined. "Jesus Christ, is there anything in that head of yours besides guns?"

Lin Feng looked back down and kept sorting through the camp's weapons, older shotguns, a few hunting rifles. Usable, nothing more. The ammunition was a decent haul, though. That part he was satisfied with.

"More guns means better cover for the people who matter. Simple math."

"It's a supermarket warehouse." Merle's voice climbed. "If we strip that place bare, we eat for five years minimum. Five years, you hear me?!"

Lin Feng's head came up fast. "You're sure? You have the location?"

"I took four of the kid's fingers for it. Yeah, I'm sure."

Fair enough. That tracked.

"Then let's stop standing around. Pack up, and we go empty the place."

Merle nodded and moved off toward the other tents to start scavenging.

Before long, Andrew and both daughters had joined in.

The girls were wearing clothes grabbed from whoever had them — too big, nothing close to fitting, their faces still carrying the dried tracks of tears, hair a wreck. They worked anyway: dismantling tent poles, bundling supplies, fast and without complaint.

Lin Feng watched them for a moment and smiled to himself.

Looked like the automotive engineer had already made up his mind.

Some time later, hard to say how long, a walker came stumbling out of the tree line.

It was covered in wounds. One hand was missing four fingers.

Marcus, standing in the bed of the pickup, went rigid. Marcus turned and looked directly at Merle.

Merle's expression darkened into something flat and ugly. Merle drew the pistol from the hip, pulled the trigger, and put one round through the walker's skull.

Daryl set down what Daryl was holding and crossed the distance in a few quick strides. One look at the wounds on the body, and there was no question.

That was Miska.

But this one hadn't been bitten.

A cold that had nothing to do with the air started at the base of Daryl's spine and crawled slowly up to the back of the skull.

➤ Next: The Final Humanitarianism

Chapter 36 - The Final Humanitarianism

Not many things could chill Daryl to the bone. But the sight in front of him definitely counted.

He couldn't wrap his head around how this corpse had turned into a fresh walker without being bitten by a single one.

Lin Feng clapped him on the shoulder and ran through the same explanation he'd already given Merle and the others.

Good news: Daryl understood.

Bad news: it made things worse.

How could you tell? When Daryl packed up the gear, none of that usual cool steadiness was there, rougher than Merle, if anything.

Lin Feng exhaled quietly and let it go.

They weren't exactly running an empire here, but they weren't short on cast-off junk from this place either.

He looked down at the bodies scattered across the ground, turned it over briefly in his head, and decided to give them a last bit of decency.

Enemies. Not blood enemies.

He picked up a nearby shovel, found a spot, and started digging.

Don't ask why he didn't burn them, gasoline didn't have a stable supply yet, which put it firmly in the strategic-resource column. Cremation also took time, and standing watch over a pyre for hours wasn't how he wanted to spend the afternoon. A shallow grave and done.

The others finished loading supplies into the vehicles and grabbed shovels to help. Two hours later, a rectangular pit, half a meter deep, sat ready.

Lin Feng dumped the bodies in, walker included, covered them with a round of loose backfill, and drove everyone out of there.

By dusk, the sun was sinking behind the hilltops one slow degree at a time, and night was pulling itself over the land. That was when several fast-moving walkers crawled out of the tree line.

The one in front was noticeably bigger than the rest. It pressed that oversized nose to the ground and kept sniffing, following the blood trail inch by inch until it found the burial site.

When it hit the spot where the scent was thickest, those pitch-black eyes blinked. Thick clawed hands plunged straight into the dirt and began tearing it back, fast.

It wasn't long before a grayish-white calf, caked in soil, came into view.

It grabbed the leg and hauled the body out of the pit, dropping it onto the clearing.

The walkers behind it stirred with agitation, but none moved forward yet.

The one that looked like the leader hunched over, tilted its head toward the sky, and let out a shrill, piercing shriek.

"Urgh-aaah—"

And the feast began.

...

Lin Feng had just speared a chunk of beef and was lifting it toward his mouth when his head snapped up. He turned toward the deep tree line.

Something like a shrill shriek... was that a bird?

Marcus stopped what he was doing. "What's wrong, Lin?"

Lin Feng turned back and shook his head. "Nothing. Must've misheard."

That's what he said. But something sat uneasily at the back of his mind, like a feather brushing back and forth against his chest. Not painful. Just itchy and unsettling.

He drew a slow breath, pushed the feeling down, and made himself smile at the faces around the camp. "Andrew, Nancy, Emma — welcome. I hope we build something good together, every day."

The taller of the two sisters was Nancy. The one holding her hand was the younger sister, Emma. Sixteen and fifteen.

When Lin Feng learned that, a man who'd already felt zero guilt found himself feeling even less.

Scum like that deserved what they got. Should've gone full Lightning King on them when he had the chance. What a waste.

Andrew had a wide, straightforward grin. "Thanks, Lin. I swear — if any car I fix ever breaks down on you, you can twist my head off and kick it like a football."

There was no bluster in it. The confidence behind those words was dead serious.

Lin Feng laughed and shook his head.

"We don't work like that here, pal. Anyone who joins and does honest work is family. And for family, I've only ever had one rule: stay alive."

Andrew's eyes went red fast, cheeks flushing to match. One firm nod.

Right then, Andrew knew the gamble had paid off.

Nancy and Emma both looked at the smiling young Asian man across the fire, something different moving in their eyes.

Lin Feng kept the smile up and chewed his food. The canned beef that usually hit the spot tasted like nothing.

He reached over and tugged Daryl's sleeve. "Tomorrow," he said quietly, "take weapons and a radio, go check out that camp. I've got a bad feeling I can't shake."

Daryl paused, then nodded. "I've got it."

"Just confirm the situation. Nothing else. In and out."

"Yeah."

With that settled, Lin Feng looked around at the rest of the group. "Tonight's going to be a long one, we need watch shifts, three hours each. Me, Marcus, and Merle have it tonight.

Andrew, Nancy, Emma, you've all had a rough day, so rest for now. But you'll be on the rotation going forward.

And Merle." He paused. "Starting tomorrow, you're going to need to put the drinking on hold for a while. Get your head around that."

The scrape of cutlery against cans stopped cold. Everyone looked at Lin Feng.

Merle's head came up, brow pulled tight, but one look at Lin Feng's expression and there were no questions. Just a nod. "I'll follow your lead, Lin."

It wasn't like Lin Feng was out to hurt anyone. Laying off the booze for a stretch wasn't quitting cigarettes. Merle could handle it.

The little welcome dinner wrapped up in its modest, ordinary way. Nancy and Emma volunteered to handle cleanup and sent the rest of them off to rest.

Lin Feng and the others didn't argue. They settled around the fire, watching the flames shift and breathe in the pit, fingers moving without thinking, rubbing together slowly.

He kept feeling like he'd missed something. He just couldn't land on what.

He was still grinding away at it when Daryl dropped down across from him, used a stick to poke at the burning wood, and lit a cigarette off the flame.

Lin Feng's brain stalled for exactly one second.

Then memory hit like a wave. "Daryl, those footprints you found in the woods. You remember? You said they might be walkers that could run..."

The hand holding the cigarette went still. A vein jumped at Daryl's temple. "Yeah, there was that. What about it? Why are you suddenly, "

"...Shit."

"...Shit."

They looked at each other.

Both expressions went dark at the same time.

➤ Next: Confirming the Existence of Walker Aberrations