"Where are the guns?! Where did they go?!"
The cultist in the driver's seat was frantically patting down the bench.
"Forget it! Just drive!"
His partner was already fumbling. The engine turned over, roaring to life.
The driver slammed his foot on the accelerator. The truck lurched forward maybe six inches, then settled back. The whole vehicle tilted to one side.
"What the—"
"The fucking tires are flat!"
Both rear tires had deflated completely, leaving the truck listing like a beached ship. They were not going anywhere.
"Hey, fellas!"
Glenn stepped out from behind the truck, one of the stolen rifles already shouldered and aimed. "Going somewhere?"
The cultists in the cab froze.
"Out! Hands where I can see them!"
"Fuck you!"
The driver grabbed for something and that was all the justification Glenn needed.
He fired.
Bang!
The first shot went through the driver's side door and caught the man in the thigh. The cultist screamed and jerked sideways, blood already spreading across his pants.
Bang! Bang!
Glenn fired two more rounds into the passenger's legs before the man could even attempt to run. Both cultists went down. One half-fell out of the cab, while the other slumped forward against the steering wheel.
Guillermo's people swarmed forward immediately, pinning the wounded men to the ground with their knees and forearms. The cultists screamed in pain as they struggled.
Only then did Glenn lower his rifle. His hands began to shake now that the danger had passed.
He had just shot two people. There would be time to deal with it later, if he was lucky enough to have that time.
"Lucien?"
Guillermo walked toward Lucien, and the rest of his people followed, forming a loose semicircle around the boy.
"You can do that too?!" Miguel exclaimed.
Miguel was about fourteen, thin and sharp-featured. He was the same kid the Dixon brothers had grabbed weeks earlier and used as leverage to lure Rick's group to the nursing home. The experience had left its mark, but he was still young enough to see something like this as incredible rather than terrifying.
"That was insane! How did you even—"
"Harrison Memorial Hospital," Glenn interjected as he approached. "Lucien learned it there. Pretty impressive, right?"
Miguel gave him a flat look. "Why do you look so proud? I thought he learned it from you."
"Well, I mean, I taught him some stuff, but the—"
"Though," Miguel continued, pointing at the stolen rifles slung over Glenn's shoulder and the disabled truck, "your whole steal-the-guns-and-slash-the-tires move was pretty brilliant too."
Glenn's attempt at a smile died. "If you cannot think of something better to say, you really do not have to force it."
Several people laughed at that.
But the moment passed quickly.
---
Over the next twenty minutes, information flowed fast.
Lucien confirmed what they had already suspected. The cult had been watching the nursing home for weeks, waiting for the right moment to squeeze them for resources, manpower, or whatever else they needed.
Guillermo and his people filled in the rest. The cult had approached them early on, presenting themselves as protectors of the weak and vulnerable. At first, they had believed it. They had thought they had found decent people in the middle of this nightmare.
"They wanted us to use the residents as bait," Felipe said. "They wanted us to lure other survivors here and then..." He trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish.
Guillermo's fist slammed into the courtyard wall. "When we refused, that Shepherd called us traitors. He started demanding tribute."
Guillermo's people had been living under this pressure for a while. Now Lucien and Glenn had returned with news that Rick's group had been captured, along with proof that the cult was not untouchable.
"We are with you," Guillermo said, looking at Lucien and Glenn. "Whatever you need. We have got your back."
Around them, his people were already preparing. Weapons were inspected. Ammunition taken from the cultists' truck was distributed quickly.
"Wait," Lucien said.
Guillermo stopped, his hand resting on a box of ammunition.
Lucien walked toward the prisoners. Three cultists sat bound with zip ties and duct tape.
"Before we rush in," Lucien said quietly, "there is information we need from them."
Guillermo's gaze shifted from the prisoners to his own people. They were not trained fighters, only desperate survivors who had managed one small victory. There was no guarantee they would survive another.
"You are right. We were getting ahead of ourselves."
He gestured to two of his men. "We need to have a conversation with our guests before we go anywhere."
---
Lucien had expected questions. The flowerpot kill had been absurdly convenient, and the follow-up throws with the steel spikes had been almost too ruthless for a kid. But apparently, he had overestimated how observant people were during life-or-death situations.
The sheer whiplash of going from "about to be executed" to "captors are dead" had overwhelmed everyone's ability to question the details.
Miguel would not stop talking about the "insane spike throws." Glenn treated it like Lucien had just pulled off a once-in-a-lifetime trick shot. Meanwhile, Guillermo's people had already built their own explanation, convincing themselves it had been luck, good timing, or one of those rare miracles the apocalypse sometimes allowed.
Since no one was asking, Lucien was not about to volunteer explanations.
He followed Guillermo's men as they dragged one of the wounded cultists toward the storage room that would serve as their interrogation chamber.
---
The storage room was lit only by a single dusty bulb.
Guillermo's men dumped the cultist into a metal folding chair. The man was maybe thirty, with a shaved head. Blood had soaked through the bandage on his leg, but he was conscious.
"Go fuck yourself," he spat as Guillermo approached. "You are all dead. The Shepherd will—"
Guillermo backhanded him across the face.
"Where is your base? How many people does the Shepherd have?"
The cultist just grinned through bloody teeth. "Enough to bury you and everyone you care about."
Guillermo reached for a toolbox on the nearby shelf and pulled out a pair of rusty pliers. He opened and closed them slowly in front of the cultist's face.
"Last chance."
"Wait."
Lucien's voice came from the doorway.
Guillermo turned to see the kid walking in with a medical kit slung over his shoulder.
"I have a faster method."
Glenn, who had followed Lucien in, immediately looked suspicious. "Do not tell me this is another thing you learned at that hospital..."
"CDC, actually," Lucien corrected calmly. He ignored the confused looks from Guillermo and his men and started pulling items from the medical kit.
"Before I left the CDC, Dr. Jenner gave me these." He held up one of the vials. He looked directly at the cultist tied to the chair. "They cause intense hallucinations. With the right prompting and suggestions, a subject under the influence will tell you everything."
The cultist's eyes widened slightly. Whether from recognition of the drugs or just general fear, Lucien could not tell.
"But," Lucien continued, turning to face Guillermo and Glenn, "the process requires isolation. Too many people in the room interferes with the subject's mental state."
He looked between them. "I need to do this alone. Can you wait outside? No matter what you hear, do not interrupt. It is critical."
Guillermo and Glenn exchanged glances.
The absurdity of the situation was not lost on either of them. Let a kid conduct a chemical interrogation? That was insane.
But then again...
Glenn thought about how every crazy thing this kid had done so far had somehow worked out.
Guillermo was thinking along similar lines. The kid had saved his people. He had information about things he should not know and skills that did not make sense. But he had been right every time.
Lucien watched them waver and pressed his advantage. He gave them a small, polite nod and turned toward the door.
"I will call you when it is done."
He closed the door.
Bang.
Guillermo and Glenn stood outside, staring at the closed door.
"Did we just..."
"Yeah," Glenn finished.
They had just allowed a kid to walk into a room alone with a prisoner and a collection of unfamiliar drugs. Worse, they had stepped aside without real resistance. Lucien's confidence, his clinical explanations, and the insistence in his voice had made refusal feel unreasonable.
But now, standing in the hallway, the absurdity was catching up with them.
"This is..." Guillermo scratched his head. "We just let him stay in there alone to do that?"
"Uh." Glenn did not know what to say.
Footsteps approached. Felipe came around the corner, saw the closed door, and frowned.
"What is going on?"
"Lucien is conducting an interrogation."
Felipe's frown deepened. "By himself?"
"He said he needed privacy for the drugs to work properly," Guillermo offered weakly.
"Drugs." Felipe's voice was flat. "You let a kid handle chemical interrogation..."
He looked at Glenn. "I know things are different now. I know Rick is a good man, and I am not trying to tell anyone how to raise their kids, but is Rick not being a bit irresponsible? What the hell has he been teaching that boy?"