Calista walked over to the man who had been shot in the abdomen.
He groaned in agony, trying to reach the pistol lying a short distance away.
Without expression, Calista kicked the gun aside, then bent down and stomped hard on his wound.
"Your bad luck—you picked the wrong people to mess with."
Blood seeped steadily from the wound, and the man let out an even more miserable howl.
Calista didn't even spare him a glance. Her gaze swept over the woman lying on the floor with blood pouring from her chest—already dead—then to the man in the corner whose head Leah had blown apart.
Finally, her eyes returned to the wounded man clutching his stomach.
"How many of you are there?" Calista asked coldly.
"Fuck! Fuck you!" the man cursed through clenched teeth, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear.
Calista didn't bother asking again. She glanced at Leah.
Leah raised her gun.
"Wait! I'll talk! Don't—"
The man's plea ended abruptly.
A bullet passed cleanly through his head.
They had no mercy for predators who set traps like this.
Only after the final threat was eliminated did Calista truly relax, feeling a faint numbness in her arm.
By then, Mike and Bossie had rushed in. They quickly checked all the bodies and delivered finishing shots to any corpse that hadn't been hit in the head, just in case they turned.
"Anyone else outside?"
"We didn't see anyone. Did find some food though—we grabbed it," Bossie said, shaking his head.
"Holy shit," Mike muttered as he looked at the carnage in the shack, especially the woman Leah had used as a human shield. "You really went hard there, Leah."
Leah spat on the ground and rubbed the wrist the woman had bitten earlier. A clear ring of purple bite marks had already formed.
"Damn it. That woman nearly took a chunk out of me."
"Are we sure nobody else is here?" Leah asked again.
"There's one more!" Carver's voice came from outside.
Everyone turned toward the door.
Carver and Turner walked in.
Carver was holding the little boy who had run out earlier by the back of his collar.
The boy's feet dangled in the air as he kicked and struggled wildly.
His face was filthy, but there were no tears—only a level of vigilance and hatred completely out of place for someone his age.
He looked at his mother's body on the floor, then at the strangers filling the room. His lips pressed tight as he glared at them.
The team exchanged awkward looks.
Killing people and burning things down was nothing new to them—but faced with a child like this, they were suddenly unsure what to do.
Carver set the boy on the ground.
"Hey kid, come here," Leah called, trying to sound as gentle as possible, motioning to him.
Instead of approaching, the boy recoiled like a startled rabbit. Suddenly he spun around and bolted for the door like lightning.
He knew the layout of the place incredibly well.
"Stop him!" Calista shouted.
Turner instinctively reached out to grab him, but caught nothing but air.
The boy ducked low, slipped through a hole in a broken cabinet, and was about to disappear behind a pile of junk—
He wasn't running out of fear.
He was trying to escape.
Trying to warn whatever accomplices might still be hiding nearby.
Carver reacted first. He lunged forward and grabbed the back of the boy's collar, hauling him back like a chicken.
"Fuck you! I'll have them kill all of you!" the boy shouted, kicking and struggling wildly.
Oh, so he's got a mouth on him too.
"Little brat," Carver muttered, tightening his grip just enough to pin him in place.
Everyone gathered around, watching the still-struggling child.
The gas station was safe for now, but this unexpected "trophy" had become a problem more troublesome than the walkers.
Kill him?
He was too young. Calista wasn't exactly a saint, but she still couldn't quite bring herself to do it.
Let him go?
It sounded like they had other accomplices. If released, he'd likely run off and report them, bringing even more trouble.
Take him with them?
A hostile unknown who might stab them in the back at any moment. Only an idiot would do that.
God…
Now it was her turn to suffer.
Calista stared at the filthy, fierce-eyed boy, her brows locked in a deep frown.
Why did this scene feel strangely familiar?
In the original story, back at the farm, Rick and the others had faced a similar situation.
They rescued an outsider named Randall, and that decision caused a huge post-apocalypse argument about "humanity" within the group.
Combined with the situation with Lori and the struggle over leadership within the team, Rick and Shane gradually drifted apart as brothers. A chain of events eventually led to Shane's death.
Randall had been an adult—and part of an enemy group—yet Rick still chose to save him.
This boy was also from the enemy side, but so far he hadn't actually harmed them.
What should they do?
He was a real hot potato.
Handle it wrong, and it might even cause division within their team.
Calista suddenly felt enormous pressure. Being the leader wasn't nearly as easy as it looked.
And Rick really was an exceptionally good person.
She looked up at Leah, wanting to know what her sister thought.
Leah didn't speak. Her brow was furrowed deeply.
Seeing how conflicted they were, Carver simply lifted the boy and made a throat-slitting gesture.
"If neither of you can do it, I can take him outside…"
Calista looked around and was surprised to see that everyone except Leah nodded in agreement.
Oh?
Turns out her whole team was basically Shane.
The only soft-hearted ones were herself and Leah.
No… actually, just Leah.
The evil little voice in Calista's head jumped around, urging her to agree with Carver.
Even if it was self-deception, letting someone else handle it out of sight would make it easier on her conscience.
She scratched at her fingers and reluctantly realized she might be just as cold and hypocritical as the rest.
In the end, seeing that Calista hadn't stepped forward to oppose it either, Leah made the decision.
"Forget it. We don't have time. The gunshots might attract walkers. Take all their weapons and let's leave. We'll find somewhere else."
She glanced coldly at the boy in Carver's grip.
"As for him, tie him up and leave him here. By the time his people find him, we'll already be long gone."
Carver shrugged.
"You're the leader. Your call. We're just passing through anyway."
The men found a rope, dragged the bodies outside, and tied the boy tightly to the table leg.
For some reason, Calista didn't remind them to close the door—even though walkers still wandered around outside the gas station.
Carver was the last one to leave.
After the others stepped out, he looked down at the boy coldly and tapped his forehead hard with the flat of his knife.
"Listen, kid. We're not going to kill you—but we're not taking you with us either.
Your people tried to kill us. This is what happens. Pray your other friends are smarter than the idiots outside and don't come looking for trouble."
The boy shuddered and finally burst into loud sobs.
To him, this man was nothing short of a demon.
At that moment, he had completely forgotten how his mother and the others had set traps to ambush passing travelers.
Outside, the team was preparing to start the vehicles.
Hearing the boy's desperate crying from inside, Leah frowned.
"He's going to attract walkers like that."
Calista watched several figures begin shambling toward the noise in the distance. She rolled up the car window indifferently and silently lit a candle in her heart for the boy.
"We've already shown enough mercy. What happens next isn't our concern. Let's move."
As the convoy engines roared to life, more staggering silhouettes appeared along the roadside, drawn toward the gas station by the smell of fresh blood—and the sound of desperate crying.
...
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