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

Chapter 27: The Coming Storm

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The single, heartbroken word hung in the air, thick with sixteen months of pain and disbelief. "Clem...?"

For a moment, the entire lodge was frozen in a tableau of shock. The Cabin Group, with their rifles raised, stared at the collapsed, broken man at the door. Zack stood rigid, a ghost from his past having just walked through the door. And Clem... Clem was a statue, her eyes wide, her mind refusing to believe what she was seeing.

Then, the spell broke.

"Kenny!"

The name was torn from her throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated shock and joy. She scrambled off the table, ignoring the searing pain in her ankle, and ran, stumbling, across the room. She threw herself at the collapsed figure, her small arms wrapping around his neck.

Kenny, delirious with fever and grief, clung to her like a drowning man finding a life raft. He buried his face in her shoulder, and the tough, angry man who had survived hell itself finally broke, his body shaking with ragged, gut-wrenching sobs. "They... they said you were gone," he choked out, his voice thick and broken. "I thought... I thought you were all gone..."

The scene was so raw, so intensely personal, that the Cabin Group instinctively lowered their rifles, their hostility momentarily forgotten in the face of such profound grief.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Nick hissed, though his voice had lost its edge, replaced by a confused uncertainty.

Zack moved, his expression unreadable. He walked to the door and, with a heavy thud, kicked it shut and slid the thick wooden bar into place, plunging the room into the dim, moody light of the lodge's few working lamps. He then turned, his cold eyes assessing the situation. He saw the weeping man, the shocked girl, and the confused, armed strangers. This sanctuary had just become a powder keg.

"Luke," Zack's voice cut through the emotional haze, sharp and clear. "Get him away from the door. Pete has been shot."

The command jolted everyone back to reality. Luke and the quiet man, Alvin, rushed forward and carefully helped Kenny to a large sofa near the fireplace. He was barely conscious, his eyes fluttering, his words a feverish, rambling mess.

"Carver... that son of a bitch... he has them," Kenny mumbled as Pete began to carefully cut away the bloody, torn fabric of his shirt. "He has Katjaa... he has my boy... Lee... Carley... he took them all..."

The names meant nothing to the Cabin Group, but they hit Zack like a physical blow. Lee? Carley? They were alive? And captured? The information was a tactical bombshell, changing everything.

"Easy now, friend," Pete said, his voice calm as he examined the nasty-looking gunshot wound in Kenny's shoulder. "You've got a bad fever. We need to clean this out before it gets worse."

As Pete worked, Clem sat on the floor by the sofa, clutching Kenny's one good hand, her face a mess of tears and confusion. The terror of his words was already poisoning the joy of the reunion.

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While the drama unfolded around the fireplace, two figures watched from the relative safety of the kitchen doorway. Ben and Travis, the two teenagers who had betrayed the group at the motel so long ago, had been quiet, almost invisible members of the new group, their guilt a constant, unspoken shadow.

Travis watched Kenny, his face pale, his expression full of a deep, profound guilt. "That's... that's on us," he whispered, his voice shaking. "The bandits... Carver... it all started back at the motel. With us. If we hadn't been so stupid, so scared..."