CHAPTER 16: RAIDERS
Hershel's farm gradually shrank in the morning mist, finally disappearing from view.
Kenny's beat-up Ford pickup carried everyone's hopes, rolling down the abandoned country road toward Macon.
The truck bed was packed tight.
Kenny handled the driving, his thick beard unable to hide the worry in his eyes.
His wife Katjaa held their son Duck in the passenger seat, softly comforting the boy who'd been shaken by all the commotion.
In the back, Hanks held Clementine while Lee squeezed in on the other side.
The cramped space filled with silence, exhaustion, and a vague uncertainty about the journey ahead.
"Kenny, how's the fuel gauge looking?" Hanks broke the quiet.
Kenny glanced at the dashboard. "Not good. Maybe another ten miles before we're running on fumes. Macon shouldn't be far, but getting gas once we're there is gonna be a problem."
Hanks's mind automatically pulled up mechanical knowledge, calculating fuel consumption and distance.
"Save what we can. Keep it steady. Call out if you spot a gas station or abandoned vehicles."
"Got it." Kenny acknowledged, stabilizing the speed at a relatively economical range.
The landscape on both sides of the road grew increasingly desolate.
More abandoned vehicles appeared—some crashed together, others flipped into ditches.
Scattered walkers wandered the fields and roadsides. When they heard the engine, they'd stumble toward it, only to be quickly left behind.
Clementine clung tightly to Hanks's waist, her small face pressed against his tactical vest.
Lee stared out the window, expression complicated, lost in thought.
After about half an hour, Kenny suddenly cursed: "Dammit!"
The fuel warning light on the dashboard lit up. The engine's sound started to labor.
"We're almost dry!" Kenny slowed down, eyes scanning ahead anxiously. "Looks like there's a town entrance up ahead—should be the edge of Macon!"
Hanks leaned forward to look.
Sparse buildings appeared ahead on the highway. A sign reading "Macon County" lay half-collapsed on the ground.
Further ahead, he could make out the outline of a gas station—a red-roofed convenience store with several pumps standing nearby.
"Head for that gas station!"
Hanks made the call. "Coast in slowly. Save every drop we can."
Kenny did as instructed. The pickup glided silently down a small slope on momentum alone, finally dying completely a few dozen meters from the gas station.
"Alright, we're on foot from here."
Hanks pushed open the door and got out first, staying alert as he scanned the surroundings.
The others climbed out one by one. Kenny grabbed his hunting rifle. Katjaa kept a tight grip on Duck's hand.
Lee checked the magazine on his Glock pistol, keeping Clementine close.
"Lee, you and Kenny's family stay here and keep watch. Set up a perimeter." Hanks quickly delegated tasks.
"Kenny, you've got experience—look after them. I'll check the gas station and see if I can find fuel."
He crouched down to address Clementine: "Stay with Lee, okay? I'll be right back."
Clementine was scared but nodded obediently: "Be careful, Hanks."
Hanks ruffled her cap, then turned to Kenny: "If there's trouble, fire a shot."
"Understood. You be careful too, officer." Kenny nodded seriously, leading the group to use the pickup as cover.
Hanks took a deep breath, lowering his body slightly, drawing on his muscle memory for stealth techniques.
Like a predator, he moved toward the gas station quickly and silently.
The closer he got to the station, the stronger the stench of decay became. Several abandoned cars sat in the fueling area.
One had its driver's door hanging open with a mangled, unrecognizable corpse draped over it.
The convenience store's glass door was shattered across the ground. Inside was pitch black—impossible to see clearly.
Hanks didn't rush into the store. Fuel was the primary objective. He quickly approached the nearest pump and examined it.
"Power's out..." He frowned slightly, then spotted something nearby and picked it up—a crowbar. The universal key.
Using mechanical knowledge from his mind, he quickly located the underground fuel tank's maintenance access.
He pried open the heavy metal cover. A strong gasoline smell hit him in the face.
"There's fuel!" Relief flooded through him.
But the next problem: how to get it out? The pump had no power—couldn't extract it directly.
His gaze swept around the gas station area.
He spotted a manual siphon pump and a short length of rubber hose leaning against the convenience store wall—clearly left by someone who'd attempted the same thing after the outbreak.
Just as he was about to retrieve the pump—
"Grrrr..." A low growl came from inside the convenience store's broken doorway!
A walker in a convenience store uniform, half its face gnawed away, stumbled out of the darkness.
Hanks reacted instantly. Without even turning, he pinpointed the sound and swung the crowbar backward in a brutal arc!
CRACK! With double strength and the Burst passive—
He nearly took its entire head off! Foul black blood sprayed out. The corpse collapsed limply.
Problem solved. Hanks quickly grabbed the manual pump, inserted the hose into the fuel tank, and began working the handle.
Glug... glug...
Clear gasoline pumped up, flowing into a discarded fuel can he'd found nearby.
But then—faint sounds that definitely weren't walker noises, growing closer, reached his ears.
Footsteps? Hushed conversation? Coming from the street on the other side of the gas station!
Hanks immediately stopped what he was doing, crept behind an abandoned car, and carefully peered out to observe.
Four shadowy figures were sneaking closer.
They carried weapons—baseball bats, machetes. Their clothes were ragged, eyes vicious, sizing up Kenny's stalled pickup with obvious bad intentions!
Raiders!
Hanks's gaze went ice cold.
He quickly assessed the situation. Four raiders, crude equipment, but they had numbers and were flanking the pickup from the side. Lee and Kenny might not have spotted them yet.
Can't let them get near the truck!
Hanks abandoned the fuel operation. Like a ghost, he used the wrecked vehicles for cover, moving with shocking speed to circle behind the four raiders.
Their conversation became clear:
"Hey, check out that pickup! Looks like it broke down!"
"There's people! Women and kids too!"
"Easy pickings! We take the truck, the supplies, and we can have some fun with the woman..."
"Careful, they might have guns..." The last one, slightly more cautious, didn't get to finish—
Hanks moved. He burst from behind a broken truck like a tiger pouncing on prey, so fast he left only a black blur!
The first raider only felt a threatening rush of wind behind him. As he started to turn, a heavy crowbar was already whistling through the air, slamming into his temple with terrifying force!
CRACK! The sickening sound of bone splintering!
The guy didn't even make a sound. His eyes instantly bloodshot and bulging, he toppled over like a felled tree, twitched twice, then went still.
"Shit! Behind us!"
The other three finally realized, spinning around in panic.
Hanks didn't pause. After killing the first, the crowbar continued its arc, the hard steel sweeping toward the second man's wrist!
"AHHH!" The man screamed. His machete clattered to the ground, wrist bent at a grotesque angle.
Almost simultaneously, Hanks's left hand flashed to the P226 at his waist! American Quick-Draw activated!
BANG! BANG!
Two shots overlapping almost into one! At this range, aiming was unnecessary.
Both raiders' chests exploded with blood. The massive impact threw them backward, shock and greed still frozen on their faces.
In a heartbeat—
Four raiders reduced to three dead, one critically injured!
The whole thing took less than five seconds!
Clean. Efficient. Brutal.
The raider with the shattered wrist collapsed, scared out of his mind, crotch instantly soaking wet. He uselessly tried crawling backward with his good hand.
He stared at Hanks standing among his companions' corpses like a death god. "Don't... don't kill me! Please!"
Hanks stepped forward. The crowbar's tip—covered in brains and blood—pressed against his throat. The cold touch made the man freeze instantly, not daring to breathe.
"How many of you are there? Where's your base?" His voice was low, emotionless.
patreon.com/Twilightsky588 - 100 advanced chapters