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

Chapter 32: The Tyrant's Interest

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The next morning began with the familiar, soul-jarring clang of the bell. Another day of hard labor dawned, gray and hopeless. The fragile alliance formed in the darkness of the pen was now a tense, unspoken thing in the harsh light of the yard. Lee and Kenny worked side by side, their shared purpose a thin veneer over their fundamentally different philosophies. Kenny's movements were angry and violent as he hammered posts into the ground, each strike a blow against Carver. Lee was measured and observant, his eyes constantly scanning, analyzing.

Zack was a phantom in their midst. He worked silently and efficiently, sorting through piles of scavenged scrap metal, his battered body moving with a stiff, pained grace. He said nothing, his face a blank mask, but his mind was a whirlwind of activity. He was cataloging everything—the weight of a steel pipe, the sharpness of a piece of sheet metal, the flammability of a can of old paint thinner. He wasn't just working; he was inventorying his arsenal.

It was mid-afternoon when the brutish guard, Troy, approached them, his shadow falling over them like a vulture's. He was flanked by two other guards, their rifles held at the ready.

"Carver wants to see the boy," Troy snarled, a malicious grin spreading across his face as he looked at Zack. "Alone."

A wave of ice-cold panic shot through the group. Lee immediately stepped forward, placing himself between Troy and Zack. "He's not going anywhere with you."

"That wasn't a request," Troy said, raising his rifle. The other guards followed suit, their guns aimed at Lee and a furious-looking Kenny.

"It's alright, Lee," a quiet voice said. Zack stepped out from behind him, his expression calm, his eyes showing no fear. He looked at Troy, then past him, his gaze locking onto the second-story window of the main building, where the silhouette of Carver was watching. "Let's go."

Clem, who was working nearby with Katjaa, let out a small, terrified gasp. "Zack..."

He gave her a quick, almost imperceptible glance, a silent command to stay put, to be strong. Then, without another word, he walked towards Troy, who shoved him roughly forward. The group could only watch, helpless, as Zack was led away, a lone, defiant figure walking into the heart of the beast's den.

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While Zack was being escorted across the yard, another figure detached itself from the main building and walked with a calm, deliberate purpose towards the holding pen. It was Carver.

He stopped in front of the chain-link gate where the women and children had been assigned the task of sorting beans. Katjaa immediately pulled Duck behind her, her body a protective shield. Clem froze, her eyes wide with fear.

Carver ignored them. His gaze settled on Rebecca, who was sitting on a small crate, her hands resting protectively on her pregnant belly. He smiled, a gentle, fatherly smile that was the most terrifying thing they had ever seen.

"Rebecca," he said, his voice soft. "How are you feeling? The little one behaving today?"

Rebecca stared at him, her face pale, her eyes full of a defiant hatred. She said nothing. Alvin, who was working nearby, started to move towards them, but a sharp look from a guard froze him in his tracks.

"It's a beautiful thing, isn't it?" Carver continued, his eyes fixed on her belly. "New life. A future. It's what we're all working for here. A strong future." He reached out and, before she could react, placed his hand gently on her stomach. Rebecca flinched violently, a choked gasp escaping her lips.

"This child... It's a child of the community," Carver said, his voice a low, proprietary purr. "It doesn't belong to you, Rebecca. Not really. It belongs to us. To our future. All of us will raise it. It will be strong, not weak. It will learn the rules. It will learn that the group is more important than the individual."