The man's shouts and the child's cries grew clearer and clearer, mixed with the low, guttural snarls typical of walkers—and there was more than one of them!
"The sound's coming from the left! Behind the house in that clearing!" Bossie warned.
Leah immediately gave the order. "Turner, prepare heavy fire to cover any incoming walker groups! Bossie, Jenson—get ready to dismount and provide support! Everyone else, vehicle cover!"
The convoy burst through the last stretch of brush, and the view suddenly opened up.
In a forest clearing stood a farmhouse that looked relatively intact.
But the situation in the open space in front of it was extremely dire.
A tall Black man with despair in his eyes was brandishing a crude spear, desperately shielding a boy of about ten behind him.
Seven or eight walkers were closing in on them from all directions!
Two or three walkers already lay on the ground, felled by the spear.
Most alarming of all was a female walker dressed in torn pajamas. She moved faster than the others, snarling as she repeatedly tried to circle around the man and grab the boy.
The man was clearly trying to avoid hurting the female walker, which left him restrained and constantly on the verge of disaster.
Further away, more walkers—drawn by the commotion—were already staggering out of the woods.
"Damn it! They're completely surrounded!" Turner's voice came through the radio as the M2 heavy machine gun on the roof swung into position.
"Dismount! Break them out!" Leah ordered without hesitation, kicking the door open as her rifle spat fire.
Bang! Bang!
Two precise shots rang out. The two walkers closest to the boy from the side dropped instantly with their heads blown apart.
Almost at the same moment, the doors of the other vehicles flew open. Mike, Carver, Bossie, Jenson, and Wells fired short, precise bursts from their M4s and CAR-15s.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The surrounding walkers fell one after another with shattered skulls, filthy blood and brain matter spraying everywhere.
The heavy machine gun under Turner's control roared thunderously, but he deliberately avoided firing near the people. Instead, he swept the fire toward the walkers pouring out of the woods in the distance.
The powerful firepower instantly tore through them, creating a terrifying wall of bullets that temporarily cut off the incoming horde.
The sudden arrival of such overwhelming reinforcements stunned the desperate man. But he quickly reacted, shielding his son even more tightly beneath him and using his own body to block the splattering gore.
In less than a minute, the seven or eight walkers around the father and son were completely cleared.
Only the female walker in pajamas remained.
Because she was closest to the Black man and the little boy, Leah and the others hadn't dared aim at her for fear of hitting them.
The female walker showed no reaction to the others being killed. She continued charging toward the boy with stubborn determination, snarling wildly.
"No! Jenny! Don't come over here! Duane is your son!" the man roared in anguish.
He struggled to block her bites with the wooden shaft of his spear, yet refused to point the spearhead at her.
Jenny? Duane?
Could this man be Morgan?
No way. How could a single trip to Atlanta lead to such a coincidence?
Did she just run into every minor character in the storyline?
And yet somehow still hadn't crossed paths with Rick's main group???
Leah and Bossie rushed forward, smashing the female walker to the ground with their rifle butts and stomping down hard on her back to pin her in place. She still writhed and snarled frantically beneath their boots.
The immediate crisis was over.
Calista quickly led the team to form a perimeter, their gun barrels still pointed cautiously in all directions.
Merle stuck his head out of the pickup and whistled.
"Whoa. What's this, a live family drama? The Spear Saint?"
Calista ignored him and walked over to the shaken father and son.
The man clutched his son tightly. The boy buried his face deep in his father's chest, trembling uncontrollably.
"Who are you? Why are you here?" Calista asked.
Though her gun was lowered, her finger still rested inside the trigger guard.
The man raised his head. Gratitude and lingering fear were mixed across his face.
"M-Morgan Jones. This is my son, Duane. Th-thank you! God… thank you!"
He spoke in a rush, words tumbling over each other.
"We… we just came out to look for food. We didn't expect this. We're completely out of bullets…"
Well, well. It really was Morgan.
Calista was a little surprised and quickly ran through the timeline in her mind.
This seemed to be the exact plot point where Morgan would lose his son. After that he would go insane, disappear, and eventually wander off into the neighboring show, Fear the Walking Dead.
No one spoke.
Morgan's gaze drifted uncontrollably toward the female walker pinned beneath Leah and Bossie's boots, still struggling and snarling.
His eyes were filled with endless grief and torment.
"She… she's Jenny. My wife. Duane's mother. We… we just can't do it."
Calista sighed inwardly.
Just like in the original storyline.
Jenny was a special walker. Calista remembered she could even turn doorknobs.
Because Morgan couldn't bring himself to kill his wife after she turned, he and his son had been living on the edge of danger ever since. During one outing, his son was bitten by his mother and turned as well.
Morgan lost his mind.
Even at the end, he couldn't bear to kill either his walker wife or his walker son. After locking Duane in the attic of a house, he left that place of heartbreak alone and eventually became that infuriating mess seen in the story.
"So you just let her follow you around—and nearly let her kill your son?" Calista's voice turned noticeably colder.
In the apocalypse, this kind of hesitation is often fatal.
And that was exactly the case.
Morgan's weakness not only cost his son his life, it also caused plenty of trouble for the main group.
Morgan shut his eyes in pain.
"I'm sorry! I—I don't know what to do! I tried, but I just can't do it…"
"Daddy…" Duane whimpered in his arms.
Calista glanced around.
Although Turner's heavy machine gun was temporarily suppressing the walkers in the distance, more were being drawn in by the noise. They couldn't stay here any longer.
"Pack up your things and follow our vehicles. We'll leave this place first," she ordered decisively, leaving them no room to refuse.
Morgan looked like he wanted to say something. But when he saw Calista's unquestionable expression, the heavily armed team members around them, and then looked down at his trembling son, he finally nodded with difficulty.
The father and son didn't have much—just a battered backpack containing the gun and walkie-talkie Rick had left him.
Morgan slung the backpack over his shoulder, picked up his son, and staggered into his old car, following Calista and the others back onto the road.
The female walker lying on the ground—Jenny—was still struggling and snarling. Her stiff joints and rotting limbs made it impossible for her to get up for quite a while.
Morgan kept looking back every few steps, agony filling his eyes.
Watching this, Calista felt her blood pressure spike. She had the overwhelming urge to slap him twice and knock some sense into that waterlogged brain of his.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser