Chapter 49: Reserves Running Dry
Four hours of rest passed in what felt like a daze, far too short for bodies pushed beyond their limits.
Hanks's eyes were still heavily bloodshot—exhaustion impossible to hide—but his gaze remained sharp.
He carefully looked down.
Clementine still slept on his lap, her breathing somewhat more even now, her small hand no longer clutching his vest strap.
Hanks moved extremely slowly, gently laying the little girl flat on the ground and retrieving a light jacket from the RV to cover her belly.
He gradually stood. His bones produced a series of soft pops. Every muscle still ached, but at least he'd recovered some strength.
He dumped the assault backpack's contents and reorganized everything, taking inventory.
Hanks replenished his ammunition. P226 with one loaded magazine plus five spares—120 rounds of 9mm total.
M590 with loaded tube plus two tactical bandoliers—69 rounds of 12-gauge total.
He still had the tactical knife. The hand axe was lost at the motel.
One flashbang remained in the pack, along with a dozen loose 9mm rounds and six 12-gauge shells.
Everyone else had topped off from vehicle supplies. The reserves instantly bottomed out.
All that ammunition they'd worked so hard to stockpile—wiped out by one sustained fight and a blood moon.
Hanks sighed silently and walked to the river, washing his face with ice-cold water.
Carley on the RV roof still maintained her alert posture, but her silhouette showed stiffness and exhaustion.
"Carley." Hanks's voice wasn't loud but carried clearly. "Time's up. Go rest."
Carley slowly turned her head at his voice, face somewhat pale. She rubbed eyes strained from prolonged focus, movements sluggish as she climbed down from the roof.
"Western woods—I think something moved through the brush. Too far to see clearly. Went quiet after." She pointed in the direction.
"Get some sleep." Hanks nodded.
On the other side, Kenny and Lee both opened their eyes almost simultaneously without needing to be called.
Four hours of deep sleep was far from enough for their depleted bodies.
But recent nightmare experiences had trained them to switch states quickly by instinct.
Both men's eyes were somewhat unfocused. Struggling to their feet, their faces still showed sleep marks and creases.
Kenny scrubbed his face hard and shook his head, trying to drive away the heavy drowsiness.
Lee stretched his stiff limbs. His neck produced teeth-grinding cracks.
They saw Hanks already standing ramrod-straight in the camp center, quietly briefing Carley on the situation.
That upright spine and calm expression made it seem like last night's man who'd led the charge and killed countless walkers wasn't him—as if he didn't need rest, just a tireless machine.
Kenny walked to Hanks's side, opened his mouth to say something.
It finally became just a heavy sigh as he clapped Hanks's shoulder hard. "Our turn. Go lie down."
His voice carried the rasp of recent sleep and a hint of barely perceptible... admiration.
Even something like concern.
He knew he and Lee were tired, but they'd just followed the charge. The man before them had borne all the pressure, carving out their path to survival.
Lee also approached, looking at Hanks with complex emotions. A thousand words reached his lips.
They became just: "You worked hard, officer. Leave the rest to us."
Hanks said nothing, just nodded and pointed at the RV and pickup.
"Check the vehicles when you can. Priority: fuel, fluids, tires. Keep it quiet."
After giving orders, he walked to Clementine's side, sat down directly, and the instant his eyes closed, he fell asleep.
Kenny and Lee exchanged glances, seeing the same sentiment in each other's eyes.
"Damn... is he made of iron?" Kenny kept his voice low while picking up the shotgun leaning against the tire.
He couldn't help muttering to Lee. "I feel like I'm falling apart, and he acts like nothing happened."
Lee checked his Glock pistol and sighed softly, looking toward the figure already fallen into sleep. He spoke quietly.
"He's not fine... he just can't afford to fall." He paused, voice dropping lower.
"Kenny, we can take turns complaining about being tired. But him? From the very beginning until now—"
"Have you ever heard him complain once? Always at the front, first watch, most dangerous scouting... If he goes down, we..."
Lee didn't finish.
But Kenny completely understood. He fell silent for a moment, roughly wiped his face, and when he looked up again, the exhaustion in his eyes was replaced by firm responsibility.
"Alright, enough talk."
"Hanks did all the hardest work. If we can't even handle guard duty and vehicle repairs—"
"Then we're really fucking useless. Let's get to work."
The two stopped talking. Kenny took the high ground on the RV roof, alertly scanning their surroundings, especially the western woods Carley had mentioned.
Lee began inspecting the pickup, starting with the engine. Opening the hood, a wave of heat and oil smell hit him.
Looking at the nearly-empty dipstick and the radiator leak barely plugged with mud, Lee's brow furrowed tight.
He crouched to check the tires. The sidewall cuts and wear were worse than expected—one showed internal cord through the damage.
"Bad shape?" Kenny asked quietly from the roof.
"Worse than I thought." Lee's voice carried worry. "Oil's almost gone."
"Radiator's leaking badly—just temporarily plugged with mud. Once we get moving, high temperature and pressure will blow it."
"Tires are shot too. Won't handle long distance, let alone off-road."
Kenny couldn't sit still at that. He climbed down and inspected the RV.
The results were equally grim.
Beyond the same fluid issues, the twisted front bumper and suspension system made ominous noises.
"Shit," Kenny cursed quietly, looking at the two battered hunks of metal. "These things are just mobile coffins now."
"Forget reaching Savannah—we'll be lucky to get another few dozen kilometers."
Lee said nothing, closing the hood. His gaze drifted involuntarily to Hanks sleeping in the corner.
He knew the next challenge—and the greatest pressure of solving it—would soon fall on that seemingly iron man's shoulders again.
All they could do was their best at everything within their capability.
At least when he woke, he'd have a clear picture of the situation. Save him a little... worry.
Sunlight scorched the earth. The river's flow continued. The camp fell into another kind of silence—
Filled with worries about the future and silent dependence on the leader taking his brief rest.