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

Chapter 39: One Last Choice

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The world after the slaughter was a place of profound, ugly silence. The echoes of the gunfire had faded, leaving only the sound of the wind whistling across the vast, blood-stained expanse of the frozen river. They had found a miserable, temporary shelter in an abandoned ice-fishing hut, a tiny, rickety wooden box that barely kept the biting cold at bay. The single room smelled of old bait and damp, rotting wood.

The atmosphere inside was poisonous. It was thick with fear, grief, and the unspoken horror of what they had all just witnessed. Katjaa and Carlos were huddled in one corner, their faces grim in the dim light as they worked on Clem's leg. The bullet had gone clean through, but the wound was nasty, and their limited supplies made the threat of infection a very real, very terrifying possibility. Clem was quiet, her small face pale and tight with pain, her teeth gritted against a whimper. But her eyes... her eyes were the most heartbreaking thing. They kept flitting towards the darkest corner of the hut, where Zack sat, and then quickly looking away, a universe of confusion, fear, and a deep, wounded love in their depths. He had saved her. But the thing that had saved her was a monster, and she didn't know how to reconcile the two.

The rest of the group treated Zack like a ghost, or worse, a bomb that could detonate at any moment. They didn't just avoid him; they flinched when he moved. They gave his corner of the small hut a wide, terrified berth. He was utterly, completely alone, isolated by the very actions he had taken to protect them.

He sat with his back against the cold, rough wood, his head bowed, his bitten arm clutched tightly to his chest. The "Cold Fury" had receded, leaving him weak, hollow, and consumed by the raging fire of the fever. The world was a swimming, distorted nightmare, and the faces of the men he had just killed kept flashing behind his eyes, their final, terrified screams echoing in his ears. He had eliminated the threat. He had saved Clem. But he had become a monster to do it. And now, he was trapped in the monster's dying body, a secret he was forced to share with the one person he was trying to save.

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For hours, no one spoke. The only sounds were the quiet murmurs of Katjaa and Carlos, Clem's soft, pained whimpers, and the howling of the wind outside. Finally, Lee could bear the silence no longer. He stood up and walked over to Zack's corner, his movements slow and deliberate, as if approaching a wounded, unpredictable animal.

He knelt in front of the boy, his face not angry, but full of a deep, profound, and fatherly sorrow.

"What was that, Zack?" Lee asked, his voice a low, heartbroken whisper. "Back on the ice? That wasn't a fight. That was an execution. They were running. You hunted them. That's not the boy I met on a farm all those years ago. That's not the brother Clem loves."

Zack slowly lifted his head. His eyes were glazed with fever, his skin slick with a cold sweat. "They were a threat," he rasped, his voice a dry, rattling thing. "They hurt her. I eliminated the threat. End of story."

"There's always more to the story!" Lee insisted, his voice cracking with a desperate urgency. "There has to be! We can't just become them! We can't just become killers! Don't you see what you're turning into? What is this turning her into?" He gestured towards Clem, who was watching them with wide, terrified eyes. "She's scared of you, Zack. For the first time, she's actually scared of you."

"Good," Zack snarled, a flash of feverish anger in his eyes. "Fear keeps you alive. You taught me that."

"I taught you to survive," Lee countered, his voice rising. "I didn't teach you to be a monster!"

"Leave him be, Lee."

Kenny's voice, a low, dangerous growl, came from across the room. He had been watching the exchange, his face a dark, thunderous mask. He got to his feet and walked over, standing behind Zack like a grim, protective sentinel.