Path to Rodina - English Version

Chapter 11

As the survivors began to regroup and tend to the wounded, Lori and Dale watched Alexei from a distance, exchanging significant looks. There were still many questions about who this man truly was, but one thing was certain: with Alexei on their side, they had a much better chance of fighting the apocalypse. Even so, the lingering question remained: was a soldier as dangerous as him an ally... or a threat? They still needed to understand.

The battlefield was littered with twisted corpses, but some of the Walkers were still moving, even after being torn apart. Their bodies were broken and mutilated, with smashed arms and legs, but their empty eyes still searched for living flesh, dragging themselves across the ground with hellish persistence.

Standing amidst the chaos, Alexei drew from his waist a massive knife, a long and cruelly sharp blade that gleamed in the blood-soaked daylight. It was an intimidating weapon, marked by use and engraved with ancient symbols. This was no ordinary knife; it was a huge combat Bowie Alexei had taken from a brutal Chechen leader known for using it to behead captured Russian soldiers. On that day, Alexei had faced the Chechen leader in hand-to-hand combat and, after defeating him, returned the humiliation by using that very blade to decapitate him. Since then, the knife had become the symbol of his lethal justice against anyone who threatened his comrades.

Without hesitation, Alexei advanced on the still-moving Walkers, his face unperturbed, and using the blade with brutal precision, he decapitated the undead with calculated, powerful strikes. The sound of the blade cutting through flesh and bone was accompanied by the dull thud of heads falling to the ground. Every blow was final, each movement a cold, swift execution.

Daryl, who was clearing the area nearby, watched the scene with a low whistle, incredulous. "Damn, this guy's one crazy son of a bitch," he muttered to himself, watching Alexei do what seemed impossible with such ease.

Rick, still trying to understand the true nature of this new ally, saw Alexei finish off the last Walker with a vertical strike that split the dead man's head into two equal halves. When he finished, Alexei stood up slowly, holding the bloodied knife, his face marked by the same cold, impenetrable expression as always.

He wiped the blade on a dirty cloth he found on the ground, as if he were merely tending to a tool, showing no apparent emotion for what he had just done. For Alexei, this was nothing more than routine—a continuation of the brutality he had learned on a battlefield where survival was the only law.

Rick approached, panting, watching Alexei as he sheathed the knife back at his belt. "That knife... looks like you know how to use it pretty well," Rick said, trying to break the tense silence.

Alexei looked at Rick with his cold eyes, but a flicker of dark memories shone within. "I took this blade from a Chechen leader," he replied, his tone more like a sentence than an explanation. "He used it to behead my men. I used it on him."

Rick nodded slowly, trying to absorb what Alexei had just said. It was clear that this man carried a past filled with blood and vengeance, a story that only added more mystery and danger to his presence in the group.

As the chaos settled and the survivors began to pick up the pieces of what was left of the camp, Alexei remained standing in the center, his knife in hand, his expression unchanged. To him, it didn't matter if the enemy was a living soldier or a Walker; they all fell the same way under his blade. He was a force of cold and calculated destruction, a shadow that brought as much fear as it did relief to those around him.

After the intense battle against the Walkers, the camp began to reassemble, but the tension in the air was still palpable. The heavy breaths and weary looks of the survivors indicated that they were all still processing the violence they had just witnessed. Alexei stood apart from the group, his knife still dripping with the coagulated blood of the dead he had slain. He cleaned the blade with methodical movements while surveying the camp with his cold and calculating expression.