After inspecting the shooting range area, where the KKK members had been holed up until recently, Alex and Daryl found no signs of survivors. It was as if the people had vanished into thin air—no bodies, no signs of struggle. Just an eerie silence and abandoned lookout posts. According to Daryl, the place had still been full of people just a few hours ago.
Alex concluded that part of the KKK likely decided to pursue Rick's group, hoping to get to Merle, and had moved out right after their escape.
Not wanting to dwell on assumptions, Alex gave the area one last look and decided not to interfere for now—he didn't want to hear another round of complaints from the girls about making decisions without giving them a chance to stretch their legs. Nodding to Daryl, Alex turned back and started retracing their steps to the shooting range.
As they made their way back through the forest's edge, they soon returned to the familiar trail. Alex kept glancing over his shoulder, torn between the urge to return and investigate the camp thoroughly and the voice of reason. Part of him wanted to charge in, screaming, and deal with everything quickly—but he restrained himself.
Navigating past mines, tripwires, and traps, Alex and Daryl finally emerged onto a safe clearing. Lighting a cigarette and offering one to Daryl, Alex started toward the road where the girls were waiting. But they had barely taken a few steps when Daryl suddenly placed a hand on Alex's shoulder.
Alex turned, and Daryl gestured for silence. Then he pointed to his ear—listen.
Alex frowned but obeyed, holding his breath. Through the ambient noise of the forest, broken sounds began to emerge—someone was running, snapping branches, and another was clearly chasing them. Footsteps. A clumsy rhythm. A pursuit. One fleeing. One hunting.
They exchanged glances and nodded in unison. Alex looked to his loyal companions—GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Wolf. With a soft whistle, he pointed in the direction of the noise. Wolf nodded and extended his steel claws, climbing a tree while his passengers held tightly onto his armored body.
"If you think I'm climbing after that, forget it. That tree's not for me," Daryl muttered, casting a sideways glance at Alex.
"No need," Alex smirked. "Just clench your teeth… so you don't bite your tongue off."
"What—" Daryl didn't even finish the sentence before Alex grabbed him by the collar.
Pushing off the trunk, Alex leaped up onto a high branch in a single bound, setting Daryl beside him in a way that he wouldn't fall off. Daryl glanced down in shock, then looked at Alex.
"What the hell..." he whispered, speechless. He'd only ever seen something like that in action movies. Maybe Alex really was a ninja, just like he claimed. The frozen landmines could still be attributed to his robot tech—but jumping that high with a full-grown man on his shoulder? That defied logic.
Alex gave his shoulder a light pat, bringing him back to reality, and motioned for silence. Daryl nodded. They waited.
The sound was getting closer. Voices were now audible. One belonged to a man, panting heavily—likely the one being chased. The second voice was cheerful, but disturbingly unhinged, and it sent a shiver down their spines.
Alex raised an eyebrow, confused by the scene unfolding below. Moments later, a man burst through the bushes—clearly the one being hunted. He looked like a typical post-apocalyptic survivor: clothes filthy, face drenched in sweat and panic. He hid behind the very tree Alex and Daryl were perched on.
The man clutched his chest, gasping for air, trying to calm his breathing.
"Where are you running to, little piggy?" came a voice from the forest. Cheerful. Male. And disturbingly insane.
When the man behind the tree heard that voice, his entire body began to tremble with fear. He pressed his back tightly against the trunk and clamped his hands over his mouth, terrified to even breathe lest his pursuer hear him and find him.
Alex and Daryl also heard the voice and instinctively scanned the area, trying to find whoever or whatever was chasing the man. After a few seconds, Daryl tapped Alex on the shoulder and pointed in a direction. Alex followed his finger—and saw something rather curious.
A man was walking through the forest at a leisurely pace, as if he were on a pleasant stroll. But what stood out the most was the crossbow bolt sticking out of his eye and exiting through the back of his head. Even more disturbing was the sinister grin twisted across his face.
Alex stroked his chin with interest. That man was a Deadite—possessed by a Kandarian demon. Now he understood why he had that nagging feeling like he'd missed something—specifically, a massacre carried out by the possessed. In his mind, Alex likened it to a demonic zombie virus: if a possessed bites someone, they become possessed too.
"How the hell is he alive? I literally killed that guy. My damn bolt is still in his skull," Daryl whispered, pointing at the Deadite.
"How do I put this... and how ready are you to believe the truth?" Alex whispered back, careful not to alert the Deadite.
"Spill it. After everything we've seen on the road, I don't think much could surprise me anymore," Daryl muttered, shaking his head.
"Well, the dude you shot with your crossbow is now possessed by a demon. And most likely, we didn't find anyone back at the range because the bunker turned into a slaughterhouse. Remember we talked about the cult that worships that book? Yeah... this is what that book does. You guys are lucky you bailed when you did," Alex said, nodding toward the Deadite with the bolt through his eye socket.
Daryl gave Alex a look that said, Are you serious right now? Demons? Possession? Alex noticed the skepticism and simply nodded, then sat down on the branch to observe what would happen next.
Daryl realized Alex wasn't going to explain any further, so he decided to just accept it—that the man he killed was now possessed by a demon thanks to some kind of cult.
Alex and Daryl both looked down at the man hiding behind the tree. Meanwhile, the twisted and sinister face of the Deadite lit up with joy—like he had finally caught up to his prey.
"Don't hide, little piggy... I can smell your fear. You're sooo close... Come on, give me a little oink so we can stop playing hide and seek," the Deadite said in a disturbingly cheerful tone.
Alex watched the scene unfold with mild interest, like a bad horror movie where the killer was an idiot and the victims were even dumber. He briefly considered saving the man but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. From the look of him, the guy hiding was probably part of the racist group anyway.
In any case, Alex and his team would have killed all the KKK members holed up in the bunker eventually. This Deadite just made their job easier—but also handed them a new problem: cleaning up the aftermath. Alex could already tell there were going to be more of these things in the bunker.
He and Daryl continued watching as the Deadite rambled on about the "little piggy," peeking behind trees one by one. The man behind the tree didn't make a sound. Alex never thought he'd live to witness a scene straight out of Evil Dead.
Lost in thought for just a second, Alex missed the moment when the Deadite suddenly teleported. It was like he was playing hide and seek himself, jumping from tree to tree. After seeing that, Daryl was finally convinced that Alex had been telling the truth—this guy really was possessed.
Alex noticed the Deadite now stood right next to the tree where the man was hiding—and where he and Daryl were perched.
"I found you, little piggy," the Deadite whispered from the other side of the tree.
They saw the man flinch as he heard the distorted voice right behind him. He tried to run, but there was no chance anymore.
The Deadite's hand pierced through the tree trunk and passed straight through the man's chest. The bloody hand held the man's still-beating heart. Horror and despair were frozen on the victim's face.
All his friends had already died and turned into monsters like him. Some managed to flee into the forest, but they were killed one by one until he was left completely alone. He hoped for rescue—but it was in vain.
The last thing he heard before dying was a strange, twisted voice whispering terrible things in his head—words that made blood run cold.
The Deadite pulled his hand out of the dead man's chest and laughed cheerfully. Suddenly, he sniffed the air, as if catching the scent of a new victim.
"I smell two more little piggies… Where are you hiding? If you don't hide, that's not my fault," he said in a playful tone.
The Deadite began circling the tree, sniffing the air as he went. Daryl, sitting on the branch next to Alex, immediately aimed his crossbow at the possessed man's head—but Alex stopped him from shooting. A headshot with a crossbow wouldn't kill a Deadite—it would only make him angrier.
Alex shook his head, signaling Daryl to just watch. Daryl frowned but obeyed.
Alex turned to Stitch and motioned for him to come closer. Stitch tilted his head in confusion but jumped into Alex's arms anyway. Once in his arms, Stitch heard a whisper in his ear. Within a second, a wide, mischievous grin spread across Stitch's face, and he began nodding rapidly, decisively agreeing to the request.
Alex smiled and stretched out his hands, holding Stitch firmly above him. Stitch hovered in the air and started making strange throat movements. Daryl watched in confusion, not understanding what was happening—until he saw Stitch's mouth open wide. Inside, a huge glob of saliva gathered, dripping down his tongue and slowly sliding down… until one big drop fell off and flew straight onto the top of the Deadite's head, who was still circling below.
The Deadite, like a predator, amused himself with the chase of his imaginary prey. Making another round, he suddenly felt something slimy and sticky land on his head. Looking up, he saw Alex holding Stitch and standing next to Daryl.
"Yahoo!" Stitch said cheerfully, waving his paw.
"Well, I've found you, little piggies. One good blow, and your little countryside house..." the Deadite began, but his words were cut off by another blob of saliva falling right on his face.
A thick glob of Stitch's saliva landed on the Deadite's face, clogging his mouth and nostrils. He started coughing, gasping for air, and wildly flailing his arms. Stitch, GIR, and MIMI burst out laughing at the sight. Alex just smirked, baring his teeth in a half-smile, while Daryl still didn't understand what the hell was going on.
"Well, little piggies, you've played your last game," the Deadite growled in an angry tone.
He began climbing up the tree trunk where Alex and Daryl were sitting. Alex watched as the Deadite slowly ascended, getting closer and closer. When the Deadite was almost within reach, Alex's face showed no fear—only a playful, even mocking smile, as if he were not the hunter but the prey.
"Wolf, take him," Alex said calmly.
Before the Deadite could react, something heavy slammed into him from the side and knocked him down. Daryl stared in shock as the robotic wolf crashed into the possessed man, knocked him off the tree, and, biting into his body, began shaking him like a ragdoll. The Deadite's screams of pain echoed through the area.
Alex grabbed Daryl by the collar and calmly jumped down.
"Tear off his arms and legs. Since he likes waving them around so much," he said, releasing Daryl.
At the command, the Wolf let go of the body. At the same moment, Stitch, GIR, and MIMI ran over and grabbed the possessed man's limbs. All four—Wolf, Stitch, GIR, and MIMI—pulled in different directions until a sickening crack of bones and flesh was heard—the Deadite's body was literally torn apart. Blood splattered everywhere.
Daryl began to wonder if he had ended up in the company of lunatics. He definitely hadn't expected Alex to order the dismemberment of the possessed man.
"Looks like they have a lot of experience with this," Daryl said grimly, pointing at the shredded body.
"Quite a lot," Alex nodded. "They've quartered plenty of demons. I have some rather playful assistants."
Daryl glanced at Alex, then at his four companions. He couldn't quite grasp how such brutality could be called playfulness. Although, on the other hand, the victim really was possessed.
Alex whistled to get their attention. GIR, MIMI, Stitch, and Wolf turned to him. Alex made a gesture: cut off the head and stuff the mouth. GIR nodded, drew his chain sword, and with one powerful strike severed the head. MIMI wasted no time and shoved a pinecone into the mouth of the headless body.
"Isn't he already dead without a head?" Daryl asked, pointing out the obvious.
"Hmm… no, of course not. Look—his severed limbs are still moving," Alex said, indicating the broken arms and legs crawling toward them. "The only way to kill a possessed is to dismember them and burn the body to ashes. Because even the skeleton keeps moving."
Daryl watched the torn-off limbs slowly crawling toward them. As if realizing they had been noticed, the limbs suddenly sped up and scraped harder, as if determined to reach the living at all costs. But they didn't get far—the limbs were immediately engulfed in fierce flames. A stream of fire burst from the flamethrower, scorching the cursed flesh. The burning limbs twitched until they turned to ash.
Daryl looked on with a growing sense of absurdity. Alex, as if this were routine, lit a cigarette and observed what was happening with a different, almost scientific interest. Through special vision, he saw what was hidden from ordinary eyes: the essence of the Kandarian demon tied to the limbs flowing back into the torso and head.
Now everything was clear—even after having its limbs severed, the Deadite could still move. If you looked from the right angle, through special perception, you could see how the demonic entity divided itself, forming separate "fragments of personality" that controlled the detached parts of the body. Each limb was like an independent malicious creature.
"Now burn the torso. And while you're at it, that one who's already dead..." Alex nodded toward the man's body with the hole in his chest. "I don't want him suddenly jumping out of the forest later."
"Do you really think possession spreads like a virus?" Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't think. I know." Alex didn't turn, still staring in the same direction. "You're awake now, aren't you? Or are you still pretending to be dead, little piglet?"
Behind them came a familiar, eerie laugh.
Daryl whipped around—and saw the dead man's eyes wide open, his face twisted into that same sinister, insane grimace as the first possessed. The new Deadite chuckled hoarsely, jumped to his feet, and sprinted into the forest.
Alex turned just as he began to run.
Daryl instantly raised his crossbow and fired. The bolt struck the fleeing Deadite in the back, but he seemed not to notice the wound and only laughed louder.
"Wolf, bring this idiot back. I don't want him running around there," Alex ordered calmly.
The mechanical wolf growled, dug its claws into the ground, and took off. Moments later, shouts reached their ears—more precisely, a nonstop stream of choice curses echoing through the area. The wolf dragged the Deadite by the leg while he writhed, struggling to break free and yelling like a madman.
Alex approached and placed his foot on the man's chest.
"So, Forrest, didn't get far, huh?" he smirked.
"Fuck you, bastard! I'll shove this leg up your ass! And the leg of that crossbow guy too!" the new Deadite shouted, choking on his own profanity.
"Oh, poor Forrest... Looks like nature forgot to give you brains," Alex shook his head, feigning sympathy.
The possessed man kept up his tirade. Alex sighed wearily—then roots burst up from the ground, entwined around the Deadite's body, and simultaneously clamped tightly over his mouth.
"That's better," Alex said, scratching his ear at the sudden silence.
"So what are you going to do with him? Burn him like the other one?" Daryl asked, looking at the root-bound possessed man.
"Something like that. But, you know, my head already hurts thinking about how many more clowns like this are wandering around the racist camp. I can just imagine them all yelling over each other…"
Daryl involuntarily pictured a crowd of demon-possessed shouting maniacs. He shuddered.
Alex noticed Daryl's sour expression, sighed tiredly, and laid a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back a few steps. Then, unhurriedly, he blew toward the bound Deadite.
He immediately burst into flames, breathed fire, thrashed and twisted, trying to escape, but soon the engulfing fire reduced everything to ash.
"So you weren't lying when you said you're a ninja. You look like a magician who breathes fire," Daryl said, watching Alex burn the enemy with his breath.
"Thanks for the compliment. My daughter likes it when I do this too," Alex replied with a slight smile.
Daryl smirked at Alex's words. At that moment, MIMI approached Alex holding the severed head of the Deadite, with a pine cone stuffed in its mouth — to keep it from babbling nonsense — and gently tugged on his pant leg. Alex looked down, and his little assistant silently handed him the trophy. He grabbed the head by the hair and met the glare of its maliciously shining eyes — and, oddly enough, smiled faintly.
"Are you seriously going to drag this head around with you?" Daryl asked, pointing at it. "Is that your trophy? Or did you decide to get yourself a pet Deadite?"
"Remember when I mentioned the cursed book?" Alex replied, lightly shaking his head as if it were a rattle. "Well, this idiot might lead us to it. I'm not planning to comb the entire forest looking for cultists who might have it."
"Are you sure this... thing will even talk?" Daryl glanced skeptically at the dangling head.
"Trust me, we're going to become best friends soon, and he'll tell me everything he knows," Alex said cheerfully, spinning the head on his finger like a toy.
"I don't even want to know how exactly you're planning to do that," Daryl muttered, deciding not to pry into the details.
Alex grinned, scanned the area, and found a suitable stick. Skewering the head like a trophy, he slung the makeshift "flag" over his shoulder. Meanwhile, GIR and Stitch finished burning the remaining body and scattered the ashes—just in case it tried to reassemble itself.
With everything done in the forest, Alex and Daryl headed toward the road where the girls were waiting. Alex hadn't expected a simple reconnaissance mission to turn out with such a "catch." It was now clear that the Deadites had wiped out the KKK racists, taken over their bunker, and most likely turned it into a den for the possessed. That meant a lot of work was waiting for them there.
Soon the road appeared. Alex was the first to spot the girls sitting on the Humvee, chatting casually. As soon as the whole team — including Wolf, GIR, MIMI, and Stitch — emerged from the forest, the girls' gazes immediately fixed on the strange "flag" Alex carried on his shoulder. Especially on the head impaled on the stick.
"Don't tell me you did everything yourself again. Is that why you're late?" Becca said suspiciously, giving Alex a hard look.
"And that... head," Rory added, pointing. "Is that your latest trophy?"
"No. We just did some reconnaissance," Alex shrugged. "And this is not a trophy. This is our new friend. Call him Clarence."
The girls stared at the head with interest, and their expressions quickly shifted. Even the pine cone sticking out of its mouth didn't make the face any less disgusting — it was twisted with malice and hatred. Exchanging silent looks filled with mild concern, the girls shared a quiet understanding. They had encountered Alex in his "special states" before, and such behavior was not new to them.
Recca stepped closer and placed her hand on Alex's forehead as if checking his temperature.
"Seems like no fever..." she said thoughtfully. "So why did you bring that head? Is this one of your old quirks again?"
Daryl snorted. Now he understood why Alex had asked the girls not to ask too many questions about him. They already thought he was a bit… strange. Especially now. He noticed shadows of displeasure cross Alex's face — especially when even Becca and Rory, his closest friends, started nodding along in agreement.
"Alright, Alex," Ada cut in, barely holding back laughter. "So what's the real reason you dragged that head here? Or did you just want to introduce us to a new kind of undead?"
"No," Alex replied dryly, with wounded pride.
Finally, Alex decided to explain why he had brought the head on a stick — it was time to clear up the confusion. He started from the beginning: how he and Daryl entered the forest and reached the shooting range where a group of racists was hiding. Then he told how they heard a strange noise — like someone hunting someone else. And finally, how they saw the possessed man whom Alex nicknamed the Deadite.
Daryl confirmed every word, adding details and describing how everything looked from the outside. The further the story went, the clearer it became to the girls: the head on the stick wasn't just a creepy trophy, but a possessed demon, and the reason was the Book of the Dead, which, according to Alex, had ended up in the cultists' hands.
When Alex reached the moment where Stitch's saliva accidentally landed right on the Deadite's head — and then in its mouth — the girls collectively exhaled. Someone even twitched an eye. Everyone looked at Stitch, who at that moment was calmly picking his nose as if none of it concerned him.
"Wait," Saya frowned, "if the body of the possessed is destroyed, shouldn't the demon leave? Why is the head still… active?"
Alex sighed and shrugged:
"It's hard to explain. Simply put — it's like a demonic zombie virus. The scenario's similar: you get bitten or infected — and that's it, you're done for. Only zombies moan, and these guys swear and talk nonsense. Sometimes worse than Becca," he smirked and shook the stick with the head, which slightly twitched an eye.
The girls immediately shifted their gaze from Becca to the Deadite. Some even thought there was some truth to it — especially considering how masterfully Becca could reduce anyone with a couple of insults.
"I don't buy it," Revi said mockingly, crossing her arms.
Alex snorted, grinned, and pulled the pine cone out of the head's mouth.
"Heh-heh-heh... Beauties... Want me to do you a real favor? My tongue reaches places your guys can only dream of," the Deadite croaked, sticking out a long, unnaturally writhing tongue.
The girls recoiled almost simultaneously. Their faces showed everything — from disgust to shock. And before Alex could put the pine cone back, the head unleashed a torrent of insults and dirty jokes.
"Give me that damn head!" Becca exploded, pulling a grenade out of her pocket. "I'm about to shove this 'candy' down its throat and see how much it talks then!"
The other girls immediately started rummaging through their backpacks and pockets for something "suitable" for their own brand of torture — some looking for knives, others pliers, and some just gloves for a "serious talk."
Alex sighed, raised his free hand to stop them all:
"Girls, wait. We still need the head. For a little while longer. Patience."
He stuffed the pine cone back into the Deadite's mouth, this time with a look as if hoping it would stay there forever.
To lighten the mood a bit and boost morale after those humiliating words, Alex took a few steps forward and tossed the head toward GIR, MIMI, and Stitch:
"You can play football with it. It talks way too much anyway… And, by the way, it insulted your moms."
The Deadite's head rolled on the ground and hit Stitch's paw with a dull thud, just as he prepared to kick it with a spin. MIMI clapped her paws happily, and GIR cheerfully declared:
"Heh-heh-heh, this will be fun. I'm going to be the first to kick this heretic's head."
GIR, MIMI, and Stitch stared at the Deadite's head, and all three simultaneously broke into wide grins — as if a new toy had just appeared before them.
"Move aside! I'm the first to kick this chatty blockhead!" Becca shouted, running up and kicking the Deadite's head.
The head soared into the air, flying over the ground with a dull thump. GIR, MIMI, and Stitch rushed after it with joyful squeals, racing to be the next to kick it. Alex smirked and, looking at the other girls, gave a thumbs-up. Some exchanged glances and, without much hesitation, joined in the sinister "football game."
When the head soared into the air once again, Chun-Li pushed off from the roof of the Humvee and delivered a powerful kick right to Deadite's face, sending it flying straight toward Juri. With a wide grin, Juri caught the "pass" and immediately volleyed the head away as if playing volleyball. The others who had still been hesitant quickly got involved— the chance to punish the annoying demon was just too tempting.
During one of the kicks, the pine cone Alex had stuffed in Deadite's mouth flew out. Without missing a beat, a sharp voice snapped:
"Damn you, sluts! I'll tear you all to pieces the moment I get free!"
"Here, bite this, you bastard!" Rei retorted, swinging her spear shaft like a baseball bat and sending the head soaring again.
"Screw you, bitch! I'll gut you first!" Deadite shouted, spinning through the air.
"Oh, no you won't— not if you don't have any teeth," Saeko said with a cold smile, skillfully bringing her sheath down and striking the teeth.
A crunch sounded— teeth scattered like splinters. That only spurred the girls on. Every new scream and insult from Deadite just motivated them to kick harder with even more enthusiasm. Still, they remembered Alex had asked to keep the head at least functional— it might still come in handy. So the kicks were hard but controlled.
Away from the chaos, Daryl sat silently on his motorcycle, watching it all unfold. He felt like a character in some crazy horror-comedy.
"Heh-heh… This is what happens when you piss off not just one girl, but a whole team of strong, smart girls," Alex said, sitting beside him.
"How you even survived among such... furies remains a mystery to me," Daryl grumbled without taking his eyes off the flying head.
"With the power of love," Alex smirked, watching the girls enthusiastically continue the "game."
Even sweet, usually quiet Shizuka tried a couple of times to kick the head. True, due to her clumsiness, she once accidentally struck Deadite right in the eye with the tip of her shoe, provoking yet another torrent of insults and shrieks. Alex nearly choked on his laughter watching all this madness.
Some girls, though not participating, watched the scene with disgust. Yet even they couldn't look away— the suffering of that demonic head was oddly amusing.
To be continued...
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