Walker? or Zombies? (Walking Dead Game x Strong OC)

Chapter 14: The Rat's Nest

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The single word on the back of the drawing—SOON—was not a threat. It was a promise. It hung in the dusty air of the print shop, colder and sharper than any blade. Zack stared at the childish drawing of the treehouse, a place of supposed safety now tainted, violated by this unseen enemy. A low growl, barely human, rumbled in his chest. This was a new kind of warfare. The stranger hadn't just declared his intention to take Clem; he had shown them he could touch their past, that no memory was safe from his grasp.

Lee saw the change in Zack. The boy's cold, tactical fury was now alloyed with something far more dangerous: a personal, venomous hatred. This was the fury of a predator whose territory had been invaded, whose most precious kill—or in this case, ward—had been claimed by another.

"He was in her room, Lee," Zack whispered, his voice a serrated edge. He crumpled the drawing in his fist, the paper protesting with a faint crackle. "He went through her things. He touched her drawings."

"We'll get him, Zack," Lee said, his own voice tight with a mixture of fear and anger. "But we have to be smart about this. We have to get back to the others."

Zack's head snapped up, his eyes scanning the derelict print shop. The rage vanished, replaced once more by the chillingly calm mask of the assassin. "He's playing with us," he stated. "Leaving clues. He wants us to come. He wants the confrontation." He looked at the blocked entrance behind them, then at the stairs leading down. "The streets are a death trap. We go back the way we came. Across the beam."

The journey back was even more fraught with tension than the first crossing. The herd below was thicker now, a roiling sea of the dead, their groans a constant, hungry chorus. This time, Zack went first. He moved across the narrow steel beam with an inhuman speed and confidence, a specter against the grey sky. He secured the rooftop, his twin blades flashing as he dispatched the few walkers that had managed to shamble up onto it, clearing the landing zone.

He stood on the other side, a silent sentinel, as Lee carefully guided a terrified Clementine across. Every creak of the metal, every gust of wind, was a torment. But they made it. As Clem's feet touched the solid roof, she ran and buried her face in Zack's leg, her small body trembling. Zack didn't comfort her with words. He simply placed a hand on her head, a silent, possessive gesture of protection. He was a wolf guarding his cub, and the world was full of hunters.

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Returning to the bookstore was like returning to a different world. The relative safety of the barricaded building felt fragile, temporary. The rest of the group was gathered in the main reading area, their faces etched with anxiety. Kenny sat apart from the others, cradling a still-groggy Duck, his broken wrist a stark reminder of his earlier confrontation with Zack. His eyes, when they landed on the boy, were chips of granite.

"What happened?" Carley asked immediately, rushing to them. "Did you find him?"

"No," Lee said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. He held up the crumpled drawing. "But he found us."

He explained what they had found, his words dropping into the silence like stones in a deep well. He told them about the drawing, about the stranger's intimate knowledge of their past. As he spoke, a new kind of fear spread through the group. This wasn't about walkers anymore. This was about a man. A smart, patient, cruel man who was hunting them.

"He was in her house?" Katjaa whispered, her hand flying to her mouth as she pulled Duck closer. "How is that possible?"

"He's been following us for a long time," Zack said, his voice cutting through the rising panic. He had been pacing the room like a caged tiger, but now he stopped, his gaze sweeping over all of them. "The motel. The train. He knows everything."