Chapter 39: The Night Attack
Sunday - 10:47 PM
The screaming started while we were still half a mile from camp.
Rick floored the accelerator, the van's engine roaring. Through the windshield, I could see the glow of the campfire—too big, too bright. Something was wrong.
We crested the hill, and the nightmare spread out below.
Walkers. Dozens of them, shambling through the quarry camp from the tree line. The perimeter had been breached—guards dead or fleeing, no organized defense. Just chaos.
Shane was firing into the horde, emptying his pistol. Andrea screamed, backing away from walkers closing on her position. Madison had Alicia and Carl behind her, rifle raised, dropping walkers one at a time with shaking hands.
And Amy—Andrea's sister—was on the ground, walker on top of her, biting into her neck.
"Go!" Rick shouted, already moving before the van stopped completely.
We piled out. I went left toward Madison's position, Glock raised. Three walkers between me and her. I dropped two with headshots, drove my knife into the third's eye socket.
"Jax!" Madison saw me, relief flooding her face. "Thank God. Carl and Alicia are—"
"Behind you!"
A walker lunged from the darkness. Madison spun, fired—missed. The walker grabbed her shoulder. I shot it through the temple before it could bite.
"Get them to the RV," I ordered. "Dale's fortified it. You'll be safer there."
"What about you?"
"I'm handling this."
[ TIMER: 42:18:55 ]
[ PHEROMONE CLOAK: ACTIVATING ]
I walked into the horde.
The walkers sensed me immediately—wrong, confusing, one of their own. They parted, creating space, turning away. I moved through them like Moses through the Red Sea, knife in hand, dropping walkers from behind where they couldn't see the wrongness.
Sophia Peletier was cornered near a tent, three walkers closing in. Her mother Carol screamed from somewhere, unable to reach her.
I grabbed Sophia, pulled her close. The walkers near us confused, stepped back. I walked her to Carol's position, handed her over.
"How—" Carol started.
"Not now. Get to the RV."
Ed Peletier was down near the fire pit, walker feeding on his stomach. Still alive, screaming, hands pushing weakly at the thing killing him. I shot the walker, then looked at Ed.
He was done. Guts torn open, blood everywhere. Minutes left at most.
"Help," he gasped. "Please..."
I could infect him. Reset my timer right here, right now. Ed was a wife-beater, child abuser, waste of resources. Perfect target.
But Carol was watching. Sophia was watching. And infection meant he'd turn, maybe attack others before being put down.
Not worth it. Not here.
I shot him in the head. Mercy kill, quick and clean. Carol made a sound—not grief, not quite relief. Something complicated.
"Thank you," she whispered.
I moved on. Lori and Carl were pressed against the RV, three walkers closing in. Rick was too far away, firing at a different cluster. I reached them first, dropped all three walkers in under five seconds.
"Stay down!" I shouted, pushing them toward the RV's open door.
Shane was reloading, hands shaking. "Where the fuck did they come from?"
"The woods. They followed the fires, the sounds. We got complacent."
"We had sentries!"
"They're dead. Focus on the living."
Amy was still on the ground, Andrea cradling her, sobbing. The walker I'd shot lay nearby. Amy had bites on her neck, her shoulder, her arm. Too many. Too deep.
"She's dying," I told Andrea.
"No. No, we can— you're medical, you can—"
"I can't. I'm sorry."
Amy looked at me, eyes already glassy. "It hurts."
"I know."
"Am I... am I going to become one of them?"
Yes. Everyone does. Everyone's infected. Death is the trigger, not the bite. But they don't know that yet. And telling them now would just cause panic.
"Not if we prevent it," I lied. "Rest. Save your strength."
I moved on before Andrea could ask more questions. The horde was thinning—most of the walkers dead or fleeing back into the trees. The camp residents were emerging from hiding, weapons ready, checking for threats.
The sun was rising by the time we finished clearing the area. Bodies everywhere—human and walker mixed together in the gray dawn light. The smell was overwhelming: blood, death, cordite from the gunfire.
Five dead. Amy and Ed were the confirmed kills. Three others—camp residents I'd barely known—were torn apart near the perimeter. Two children were missing, probably fled into the woods in panic.
Andrea refused to leave Amy's side. Just sat there, holding her sister's hand, waiting for the inevitable. Amy's breathing grew shallow, stopped. Andrea kept holding on.
"Someone needs to do it," Dale said quietly to Rick. "Before she turns."
"Let Andrea," Rick decided. "It should be family."
An hour later, Amy reanimated. Andrea was ready, pistol against her sister's temple. One shot. Then Andrea collapsed, still holding the body.
Shane found me cleaning my knife by the trucks. He looked like he'd aged ten years in one night.
"What are you?" he demanded.
"Alive. Same as you."
"Bullshit. I saw you walk through them. Saw the walkers move away from you like you weren't there."
"Adrenaline makes you see things."
"Don't lie to me. I know what I saw."
Others were approaching—Glenn, T-Dog, Daryl. They'd seen it too. The way the walkers avoided me, the way I'd moved through the horde without being attacked.
Rick joined the circle, sensing confrontation. "What's going on?"
"Ask him," Shane said, pointing at me. "Ask him how he can walk through walkers without getting bit."
Rick looked at me, questioning.
"I move carefully," I said. "Stay quiet, don't attract attention. Same as everyone."
"That's not what we saw."
"Then you saw what you wanted to see. I'm not immune. I'm not special. I'm just alive."
"Prove it," Shane challenged. "Let a walker get close. Show us you can be bit like anyone else."
"Or I could not do the stupidest thing I've heard all day."
"Because you're lying."
"Because I'm smart. And right now, we have bigger problems than your paranoia."
Rick stepped between us. "Enough. Shane, we just survived an attack. People are dead, people are grieving. Whatever questions you have can wait."
"Can they? Because if he's different, if he's—I don't know—immune or something, that changes everything."
"It doesn't change anything. He fought with us. Saved lives. That's what matters."
Shane looked like he wanted to argue more. But Rick's expression was firm, and others were watching. He backed down.
"Fine. But this isn't over."
He stalked off. The circle dispersed, people returning to the grim work of burial and salvage.
Madison found me at the edge of camp. "Everyone saw. You can't hide it anymore."
"Hide what?"
"Whatever you are. Whatever makes the walkers avoid you."
"I'm lucky. That's all."
"Luck doesn't work like that. Luck doesn't create a circle of safety around you while everyone else fights and dies."
I said nothing.
"I'm not asking you to explain," she continued. "I'm just saying you can't pretend it didn't happen. People saw. People will talk. And eventually, someone will demand answers you can't give."
"Then I'll deal with it when the time comes."
"Or you could trust us. Tell us the truth."
"Some truths are better left buried."
She touched my arm. "Alicia asked about you. Asked if you were okay, if you got hurt. She saw you walk through them too. She's trying to understand."
"What did you tell her?"
"That I don't know. That you're full of secrets and terrible at explaining them. But that you keep saving us, so maybe the secrets don't matter."
"Do they? Matter?"
"I don't know yet. Ask me when this is all over."
She walked away. Alicia appeared moments later, as if they'd coordinated.
"Everyone saw what you did," she said without preamble.
"So I've heard."
"How the walkers ignored you. How you pulled Sophia from a group of them and they just... stood there. Confused."
"Observant."
"Are you afraid?" she asked. "That people will turn on you? Hurt you because you're different?"
I considered the question. "No."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
That I'll lose control. That the timer will hit zero while I'm surrounded by people I'm supposed to protect. That I'll infect someone innocent and have to live with knowing I destroyed them.
"I'm afraid I'll fail. That I'll make a mistake and people I care about will die because of it."
"That's not the whole answer."
"It's all you're getting."
She studied me, then nodded. "Okay. But for the record? I'm not afraid of you. I'm curious about you. There's a difference."
That surprised me. "Most people would be terrified."
"I'm not most people. And you keep proving you're on our side, even when it costs you. That's worth more than normal."
She left me alone.
[ TIMER: 38:22:17 ]
Rick gathered the survivors an hour later. Twenty-eight people remaining after the attack. Exhausted, terrified, looking to their leader for direction.
"We can't stay here," Rick announced. "The perimeter's compromised. The walkers know where we are. Another attack will come, and we might not survive it."
"So where do we go?" Dale asked.
"The CDC. Atlanta. There's a government facility there—Center for Disease Control. If anyone has answers about this infection, about how to stop it, they're there."
"Atlanta's overrun," Shane protested. "We'll die trying to reach the CDC."
"We'll die staying here. At least Atlanta offers hope."
"False hope."
"Hope is hope. We move out in two hours. Pack essentials only. Anyone who wants to stay can stay. But I'm going to that CDC."
No one argued. The attack had broken something in the group—the illusion of safety, the belief that hiding would work. Now they needed action, even if that action led to disaster.
I helped pack supplies, organize vehicles, prepare for the convoy. The work was mechanical, necessary, mindless.
Daryl approached while I was loading ammunition. "You saved my ass last night. Saved a lot of people."
"Just survival."
"Nah. You walked through them like they weren't there. I don't know what you are, but I'm glad you're with us."
"Are you?"
"Yeah. Whatever you are, you're useful. In this world, that's all that matters."
It was the closest thing to acceptance I'd gotten all day.
The convoy formed at noon—five vehicles, twenty-eight people, everything we owned that mattered. Rick led in his truck, Dale's RV in the middle, Shane bringing up the rear.
I rode with Madison's group—her, Alicia, Nick, Patricia. Silent, tense, processing the night's horror.
As we drove away from the quarry camp, I looked back. The tents still stood, the fire pit still smoked. But it was a graveyard now, haunted by the people who'd died there.
Amy. Ed. The others whose names I never learned. All dead because walkers followed the light and sound. All dead because we got complacent.
And my timer kept counting down, relentless and uncaring.
[ TIMER: 36:47:09 ]
A day and a half until I'd need to infect someone again. A day and a half until the next moral compromise, the next justified murder.
The CDC won't have answers. I know that already. It'll be empty or dying. Jenner will be there, maybe, depending on the timeline. He'll tell them everyone's infected. That'll break some of them.
But I couldn't say that. Couldn't explain how I knew. So I rode in silence, watching Atlanta grow on the horizon, waiting for the next crisis to manage.
The apocalypse never stopped. It just changed locations.
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