A Shred of Hope (The Walking Dead) (The Final Season Retelling)

25. McCaroll Ranch, Part II

The gunshot rang out through the corridor. Not that it mattered anyway; it was simply masked by the commotion outside.

Clementine left the man behind, heading down the corridor. Little potted plants had been placed on the carpeted floor along the wall. A few bodies lay on the floor, drenching the carpet a scarlet. The overhead lights flickered, making the scene feel straight out of a horror movie. The windows to her left cast an orange glow of the insanity outside.

She read the names of the rooms as she passed them by. The building was probably where they ran the Ranch from. She could see that there was a doctor's room; a security room; a playing room; a meeting room. There seemed to be quite a few rooms before the corridor turned to the right. They decorated the walls on both sides of the corridors there too.

Clementine kept up her pace, willing the stairs to just appear. The corridor seemed never ending, and it didn't help that most of the lights were broken. She was about to pull out her flashlight, but refrained. She would have to rely on the faint glow of the remaining bulbs. The adrenalin had started fading now, making her really see the carnage that was around here.

Finally, she saw the end of the corridor, coming upon a door. Peeking through the glass, she couldn't make out much. The lights were off, but it seemed like some sort of a small hall. The flames from outside shed some light.

Opening the door, she stepped inside cautiously, her gun at the ready. She was met with tables and chairs. Looking around, she realised that that must be where the inhabitants of McCaroll Ranch ate. Plates filled with food still sat at the tables. There must have been people eating when the Infinites attacked.

Searching with her eyes, she finally noticed the stairs to her left. Her vision was adjusting to the darkness. Slowly making her way over, she started climbing. The floor was slippery with blood. Clementine had seen so much of it at this place, she was sure her quota for seeing the scarlet liquid was done for life.

Making it to the first floor, she found herself in another corridor perpendicular to her. The wall in front of her was lined with windows. She could see the orange glow of the massacre outside. The screams and yells seemed to have faded into the background, a dark melody playing in the throes of the madness around her.

Looking both sides, she noticed some of the doors were open. Fearing that she was late, she headed to the left, trying to read the name plates. The first one read '108', the one opposite read '107'. The rooms appeared empty. That was a good thing. But that meant AJ could still be down the corridor.

She would never be prepared for what was in the next room.

As Clementine's eyes passed over it, she had the overwhelming urge to throw up. She had never seen a sight as gruesome as this. What the fuck kind of people even did things like this? For the first time, she was afraid of the Infinites. Nobody could be this fucked up, not even people who were outright crazy. Looking up, she noticed that she was looking at the inhabitant of Room 106. With a guilty mind, she almost felt herself slightly relieved that this wasn't AJ.

That was when she heard the voices. Edging closer, she realised with horror that they were coming from Room 102. The door was open.

"Maybe we show this kid what we did to the other kid, eh?" a man said, his voice coming out raspy. "This place is the best one we've hit so far, right Jim?"

"You're fuckin' right!" the other man replied. "Hey, you wanna call Bull and show him our art? Like, we're fuckin' Picasso man!" Both the men laughed.

Clementine peeked in. It was dark but she could see the two men illuminated from the light outside. It seemed like a dormitory, with a double bed against the wall and a small table to the right with a window. A young child sat on the bed, legs pulled up against his chest and his head buried in them. She could hear him sobbing softly. One man sat next to him, while the other leant against the table. None of them were looking at the door.