A dark shape dropped from above in the middle of the gunfire.

Furious, savage, driven by rage over its companion being cut down, it hurled itself straight at Merle, who was still laying down fire.

Daryl's pupils shrank to pinpoints. In the same motion, Daryl pivoted the muzzle and kicked Merle out of the path.

"Move!"

The AR-15 cracked out in controlled bursts, round after round punching into the leader's body, every shot soaked in panic and desperation.

It didn't matter. For something that felt no pain, the sheer impact could barely slow its stride. That was all.

The distance was too short.

In an instant, the sound of something heavy tearing through the air.

Lin Feng's face twisted with savage focus. Both hands locked onto the stock. He swung the shotgun like a baseball bat.

"Get down!"

The force surged through the barrel and connected with the leader's midsection. It ripped the thing clean off its feet and smashed it to the ground.

CRACK!

The shotgun gave out. Parts scattered across the floor. The whole thing was scrap before it even finished falling.

"Fall back — now!"

Lin Feng snarled and flung the ruined gun aside. He drove a kick straight into the monster's head. The violence in it went beyond anything a normal person could put behind a kick, it came down on that skull like a hammer.

Through the chaos, he heard something crack inside the monster's head.

He didn't have time to think about it. He stepped back, dug into his pocket, pulled out two grenades, yanked both pins, and lobbed them into the attic, all under the wide, half-terrified stares of Merle and Daryl.

CLATTER. CLATTER.

"Go, go, go!"

He grabbed Merle, who was moving too slowly, and hauled toward the door.

Farther out, Marcus and Andrew were already sprinting with rifles up, trying to close the distance and reach the three of them.

"Stay back! Grenades!" Lin Feng shouted, and threw himself flat.

BOOM. BOOM.

The blasts hit back to back. Firelight strobed. Wooden splinters burst in every direction. The shockwave shuddered through the entire attic, and the building screamed back, boards groaning, large sections crashing down and piling across the doorway.

The whole structure looked like one strong gust away from total collapse.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Merle turned around, took it all in, cursed a streak, and then started laughing. Wild, full, completely unhinged:

"You see that?! You sons of bitches can't kill Merle! Trash! Worthless! Ha ha ha ha ha!"

Marcus and Andrew just stood there, staring, brains temporarily offline.

Lin Feng elbowed Merle in the ribs. "Fuck! What are you laughing at?! Reload!"

He drew the Bowie knife from his hip as he said it, eyes already back on the rubble blocking the door.

From inside the attic came a chorus of grinding creaks and soft thumps, debris settling.

What Lin Feng was waiting for wasn't there. No low gurgling hiss. No heavy thud of something dragging itself upright.

Dead, or playing dead?

He wasn't sure. But he was sure the thing was still alive.

Because the system had only logged 4 kills. No new notification had fired after the grenades.

Merle climbed to both feet, manic grin still stretched across Merle's face, and started feeding shells into the tube, pausing every few rounds to glance through the doorway. Crazy, maybe. But not completely stupid. Merle knew to keep eyes on the situation.

"Lin... is it over?"

"No. Stay sharp, everyone. Get ready." Lin Feng didn't look away from the rubble.

The standoff held.

The attic had warped under the blasts. It was coming down, the only question was when. Going back in right now meant gambling on a second of luck before the whole thing buried you.

Can't go in. Can't bet on it.

Click-clack.

The last shell seated. Merle racked the slide and raised it toward the doorway.

Lin Feng's other hand moved inside his pocket, fingers finding the remaining two grenades. He turned it over in his head, just throw them in, finish it?

"If that thing eats meat," Andrew said suddenly, "it's probably attracted to blood too, right?"

The words were barely out before Andrew drew a dagger and dragged it diagonally across one forearm. Blood welled up immediately, dark and fast. Andrew stepped forward a few paces, closing toward the front of the attic, putting more of that scent in the air.

"Andrew—"

A shriek cut Lin Feng off.

"Urrrgh—"

The thing inside caught the smell. The roar that followed was reflex, a mechanical, instinctive call for backup.

No backup was coming.

Lin Feng stopped talking. He took Andrew's rifle, got everyone moving, and spread them into a loose arc around the doorway.

"On me. That thing comes out, you shoot."

A few seconds passed.

Another shriek from inside, higher pitched than the first.

"Urrrgh, "

Silence came back. No response from anywhere. No companions answering the call.

Then it understood.

It pulled itself off the floor and lunged toward the blood.

CREAK, BAM.

The rotting boards exploded outward. The thing burst through and was airborne.

Gunfire erupted from every direction at once.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

It never touched the ground. The volleys ripped it apart in the air, and what came down was pieces. They rolled to a stop a few feet from the door.

Lin Feng walked up and put a rifle round through what was left of its skull.

Then the breath came out, long, slow, real.

"Daryl, Merle, watch the perimeter. Marcus, get Andrew's arm looked at." Lin Feng sat down on the ground right where he was standing. "Let me sit for a minute. That was a lot."

No deeper reason. Just the body doing what bodies do.

His Constitution was high enough that the adrenaline hit harder than it would for most people, but the drop afterward hit just as hard. He'd recover fast. He always did. But in that gap, his legs had their own opinions about standing, and right now their opinion was no.

Merle saw it and let out a slow whistle. "Lin, that it for you already? You good? Want me to find you some stam, "

A spent casing bounced off Merle's face.

"Shut it," Lin Feng said from the ground. "At least I don't freeze up in the middle of a fight. What was that, legs went soft from the scare?"

"No, no, no, that's what being a tough guy looks like, you understand?"

"A tough guy who needed his little brother to bail him out?"

Daryl: massive grin.

Merle: no grin.

➤ Next: Sophia's Flight — The Fight Begins

Chapter 40 - Sophia's Flight — The Fight Begins

Two minutes later, the adrenaline crash hit its bottom. The blood roaring through Lin Feng's veins slowed, the hollowed-out weakness faded, and he pulled himself back to his feet.

Marcus worked on Andrew with the ease of long practice, disinfecting, stopping the bleeding, stitching, applying antiseptic, bandaging. Every movement was efficient and carried a strange sort of grace.

The last knot pulled tight. Simple field treatment of a blade wound: done.

"Once we're back, I'll find you some anti-inflammatories. But no water on it for a while, keep it dry, or infection sets in and the healing drags out."

Marcus said it while giving Andrew a pat on the shoulder. Something flickered in those eyes.

The one who looked so straightforward and mild-mannered was actually something else entirely. When making the cut, it seemed like there had been a concern there wasn't enough bleeding, the slice had gone deep enough that sutures were necessary, rather than optional.

And those sutures, close to ten centimeters of them, had been stitched without a drop of anesthetic.

He stepped up beside Andrew and clapped a hand on the shoulder. "Nicely done, pal. Without you, who knows how long that would've dragged on today."

Merle walked over and cut straight to it. "Starting to like you, Mr. Engineer."

Daryl said nothing. A short nod.

Andrew kept that same easy, honest smile. "As long as it helped."

Andrew knew it. Starting today, the place in this group was real. How far that would go, time would tell.

The group grabbed a quick bite where they stood, then turned and started back the way they'd come.

...

"Shh. Listen, Sophia, hide in there. As far back as you can go. Then stay still, don't do anything. Once I deal with these two walkers, I'll come back for you, okay?" Rick pointed toward a hollow beneath some tree roots along the creek bank.

Sophia curled in on herself, brows pinched, eyes wide with fear and desperate uncertainty as they stared up at Rick. Tears were already threatening. A nod came in short, broken bursts, voice stuttering out: "Shoot them... just shoot them..."

Rick gripped Sophia's hand hard, gaze flicking upward every few seconds. "I could shoot them. But that pulls every walker on the highway straight to us. Then it's not two walkers we're dealing with, it's dozens. Maybe hundreds."

As he spoke, Lin Feng crossed his mind unbidden. That Asian kid who always had a short blade on him. The one who could wade into these situations with nothing but nerve and cold precision and leave without making a sound.

In close-quarters, cold-weapon fighting, no one in the entire camp came close. Not even Daryl.

Funny, now that he thought about it, this Colt Python on his hip was sometimes genuinely less useful than a knife.

But that was the wrong thing to be thinking about right now. Deal with what's in front of you first.

The walkers' low, wet groaning was getting closer.

Rick kept his voice soft. "Come on. Get inside, stay quiet, don't move. I'll take care of those two and come straight back, and then we go home together."

"If I'm not back—or if it takes too long—follow the path back the way we came. Keep the sun on your left shoulder the whole way, okay?"

Sophia's brow stayed knotted. Another nod, and another, working that small body further and further back into the hollow.

"Rick—you're coming back, right?"

"Yes. I promise."

Rick stepped back two paces. He made sure the walkers could see him, shouted twice to pull their attention, then broke into a run toward the tree line.

In the dark hollow by the water, dim, damp, smelling of wet earth, Sophia trembled. Both hands were locked around an old rag doll, holding on like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

"Don't be scared, don't be scared. We're going to get home. Mom is still waiting for us." The whisper was tiny. The shaking didn't stop.

Sophia started counting in her head to track the time. But fear sped the numbers up, faster and faster, and Sophia never noticed.

Five or six minutes later, the count had hit a thousand. The hollow looked exactly the same as it had the whole time. It felt like at least fifteen minutes had passed, and Rick hadn't come back.

Sophia edged toward the opening and peered out. Nothing moved. A first step forward. Still nothing.

Crawling out of the hollow. Standing up. Looking at the sky.

"Keep the sun on my left shoulder," Sophia murmured.

Turning until the sun sat right, Sophia started walking.

The luck held, mostly, the path was roughly right. There were footprints pressed into the dirt. Something small and warm jumped in Sophia's chest.

"We found the way. We're going to see Mom soon. Are you happy? I'm happy." Said to the rag doll, low and quiet. The freckled face broke into a smile without meaning to.

Then a walker appeared on the path ahead. Slow. Shuffling. Moving the same direction.

Every bit of warmth drained out instantly. Sophia's hands and feet went cold, and the only thought was to turn and run.

The walker latched on regardless, whatever drew it, it followed.

Sun on the left shoulder. Stay in place and wait. All of it was gone, swallowed by panic. Sophia ran blind, crashing through brush without direction, legs carrying anywhere that wasn't back there.

The waterlogged sneakers caught on slick moss. Sophia went down hard. Up again immediately, the rag doll somewhere on the ground behind, didn't matter. Keep running.

How far? No idea. A glance back: still there. The walker had not fallen behind at all.

And the lungs felt like someone had poured in burning coals. Every breath scraped and dragged. The feet ached so deep they barely lifted off the ground anymore.

Running was finished.

Is this where I get eaten? Will it hurt? Where's Mom?

The thoughts scattered and broke apart. Tears ran freely. But the legs kept moving, mechanical, not quite stopping.

Sophia's pace was dying. The walker's wasn't. If anything, it seemed to be edging faster.

A gust of wind. The stench hit first, rot and decay pouring straight in.

Close. So close. Right there,

Terror flooded everything. A hammering heart and streaming tears weren't enough for what was building inside.

Trembling, Sophia screamed: "Mom!"

Mid-stride, Lin Feng stopped.

His ears caught it clean, Sophia's voice, cutting through the trees.

In an instant, the storyline snapped into place. The woods. Sophia getting lost. And at the end of it, locked inside Hershel's barn.

He got it all at once.

"Shit!"

He was already moving, legs stretching out, full sprint, straight toward the sound.

Daryl and the others blanked for two or three seconds before it clicked.

"Lin?!"

"What the, "

"Move!"

Merle and the rest had no idea what was happening. They ran anyway, falling in behind Lin Feng as he pushed through the trees.

He burst through the brush, came down the slope, and tore upstream along the river.

There, Sophia's small figure. And right behind, the walker, jaws grinding open and shut, angling in from the left, almost close enough.

No time to close the distance on foot. No other option.

Lin Feng raised the gun, flicked off the safety, chambered, aimed at the walker's skull, and fired.

BOOM!

The bullet crossed the gap in a fraction of a second. Dozens of meters, gone in an instant. The walker's head came apart.

Sophia froze.

The crack of the shot, the wet crunch of a skull shattering, both sounds erupted just beside Sophia's ear. Then something warm and wet dropped into Sophia's hair.

Not a single muscle moved. The body locked up completely and started tipping toward the ground.

➤ Next: The Matter of Forms of Address