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

Chapter 36: A New Cry, A Secret Sickness

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The journey back through the dark woods was a slow, stumbling retreat from the depths of hell. The fires of Howe's Hardware cast a demonic, flickering glow against the night sky behind them, a funeral pyre for a tyrant and his fallen kingdom. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the distant, fading roar of the herd.

Kenny walked in a grim, detached silence, his shotgun held loosely in his hand. The vengeful fire in his eyes had been extinguished, leaving behind a hollow, exhausted emptiness. He had gotten his revenge, but the catharsis was a fleeting, bitter thing. Clem walked beside him, her small hand clutching the back of his jacket, her face pale and wide-eyed in the darkness, trying to process the brutal, ugly thing she had just witnessed. The secret she shared with Zack was a heavy stone in her gut, making it hard to breathe.

Zack trailed behind them, a solitary shadow moving through the trees. Every step was an exercise in pure, agonizing willpower. The fever from the bite was no longer a gentle heat; it was a raging inferno in his blood. Waves of chills wracked his battered body, making his teeth chatter, a sound he desperately tried to stifle. The world was a hazy, swimming blur, and the burning agony in his left forearm was the only thing that felt real. He stumbled on a tree root, catching himself against a tree, a low groan escaping his lips.

"Zack?" Clem asked, turning, her voice full of a concern that was laced with the terrible knowledge she couldn't share.

"I'm fine," he rasped, pushing himself upright. He forced his voice to be steady, but it sounded thin and distant to his own ears. "Just... tired. The fight took a lot out of me."

It was a plausible lie. Kenny accepted it without question, his own mind too full of the night's horrors to notice the unnatural pallor of his skin or the fever-bright glaze in his eyes. But Clem knew better. She saw the lie, and it broke her heart a little more.

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They reached the rendezvous point by the river an hour later. The rest of the group was huddled together in a small, sheltered clearing, their faces a mess of terror and anxiety. The moment they saw Kenny, Clem, and Zack emerge from the darkness, a wave of raw, explosive relief washed over them.

"Kenny!" Katjaa cried, her voice breaking. She ran to him, throwing her arms around him, followed closely by a crying, relieved Duck.

The reunion was a messy, beautiful, and desperate thing. Kenny fell to his knees, his tough facade completely gone, and just held his wife and son, his body shaking with silent, grateful sobs. He was a husband and a father again, whole and complete in a way he thought he would never be again.

Lee and Carley rushed to Zack, their faces full of a deep, paternal concern. "Zack, my god, you're a mess," Lee said, steadying him as he stumbled. "You're burning up. Let's get that jacket off, get you cleaned up."

Lee's hand reached for the zipper of Zack's jacket.

"NO!"

The word was a raw, guttural snarl. Zack flinched back from Lee's touch as if he'd been burned, his eyes wide with a sudden, wild panic. He cradled his bitten left arm protectively against his chest.

The group froze, the joyful reunion coming to an abrupt, awkward halt. They all stared at him, shocked by his violent reaction.

Zack realized his mistake instantly. He forced his body to relax, his expression smoothing over into a mask of weary indifference. "Don't," he said, his voice softer but still cold. "I'm fine. Just... don't touch me. I'm covered in blood and... other shit. Just need to rest."

He staggered away from their concerned, confused faces, finding a spot in the deepest shadows at the edge of the clearing, and slid down the trunk of a large oak tree. He needed to be alone. He needed to hide. The close call had sent a fresh wave of ice-cold terror through his feverish haze.