Chapter 4: The Lessons He Left Me
Morning brought mist and silence.
The fire had burned low. Most of the group still slept—except Axel.
He stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the treeline.
He wasn't resting. He was calculating.
Last night, he let them live.
Today, he would teach them how to survive.
The younger guy—Jason—woke first. He stumbled toward Axel, rubbing his eyes. "You're still up?"
Axel didn't look at him. "You don't have a perimeter."
Jason blinked. "What?"
"No traps. No alarms. Nothing to stop the dead… or worse."
Jason scoffed. "We're still here, aren't we?"
Axel turned, his stare sharp. "For now."
Later that morning, he gathered the group. He didn't ask—he told them.
"You're not ready," Axel said. "Not for what's out there. If you want to make it , you'll learn."
He didn't wait for permission.
He taught them how to walk without being heard. How to check every corner. How to set a simple noise trap with cans and wire.
He showed them how to move as a unit. How to kill quick and quiet.
They didn't understand how he knew so much.
But it all came back to his father.
---
Memory.
He was just a kid. Deep in the woods behind their house.
His father held a knife and pointed to the ground. "You see that?"
Axel squinted. "It's just dirt."
"No," his father said. "It's a trail. Deer moved through here this morning. Four of them."
Axel looked closer, and somehow… he saw it.
"Out here," his father said, "the quiet men live longer. You don't need to be loud to be strong. You just need to be smart. And fast."
He handed Axel a pocket knife.
"Someday the world's gonna fall apart. When it does… remember this. No one's coming to save you. You become the one who saves others… or you bury them."
Axel never forgot those words.
---
Back in the present, Axel stood over a snare trap they built together. It was crude. But it worked.
The older woman—her name was Mara—watched him carefully. "You had someone teach you all this."
He nodded once. "My father."
She saw something in his eyes then. Not fire. Not anger.
Something buried.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He didn't answer.
By nightfall, the group had killed three walkers with barely a scratch.
Jason, cocky and grinning, patted Axel on the back. "You know… you're kind of scary. But you're good at this."
Axel didn't smile.
Didn't speak.
He just sharpened his blade in the dark.
That night, Mara sat beside him.
"You saved us twice now," she said. "Why?"
Axel looked into the fire. "Because they took everything from me."
Mara frowned. "The people who killed your family?"
She didn't know for sure but she saw it in axel eyes when he talked
His family was killed she saw it
And she understands a little bit
The world is over and human kill others humans
"No," Axel said. "The world."
She didn't ask more. She didn't need to.
Axel's silence said everything.
---
The fire crackled low as morning broke.
Axel stood with his arms crossed, eyes scanning the faces of the small group. They ate quietly, tired from training, but alive—because of him.
It was time.
"Names," he said.
The group froze.
"What?" Jason asked, mouth half full.
"Names. Ages. What you did before the world ended," Axel said, tone flat. "I need to know what you are. What you're worth."
Mara raised an eyebrow. "You trying to get to know us now?"
"No," Axel said coldly. "I'm deciding how to use you."
Silence.
They looked at each other—some offended, others afraid.
But none of them left.
Because Axel was the reason they were still breathing.
Jason cleared his throat. "Jason Taylor. Thirty-one. I was a mechanic. Good with engines, bikes, anything with a motor."
Axel nodded once.
"Next."
The youngest, a girl no older than seventeen, spoke up nervously. "Emily. Emily Ross. I was in high school… I did track and field. I—I can run fast. Real fast."
Axel studied her.
Fast could mean bait. A scout. A runner.
"Good," he said. "Don't get slower."
The next man, older, grizzled. "Name's Hank. I worked security for a warehouse. Got my own baton still. Know how to hold a line if things go to hell."
Axel didn't blink. "You'll stay close to the girl. Protect her legs. She's useful."
Mara gave him a sharp look.
"My name's Mara Lane. I was a nurse. Emergency room. I know medicine, trauma, stitching, dosage—whatever you need."
"You'll stay alive," Axel said simply. "I'll make sure of it."
The last woman, quiet and distant, finally spoke. "Rachel. I was a teacher. Math."
Axel stared at her for a long moment.
"You'll cook. Clean. Handle supplies and keep count."
Rachel looked down. "That's it?"
"That's everything," he replied.
He paced slowly before them, voice low and ice cold.
"I don't care what you were. I care about what you can do now."
They listened in silence.
"I don't want your stories. I don't want your tears. I want tools. And all of you are tools until I don't need you anymore."
Mara stood up. "You talk like you're some kind of dictator."
Axel finally looked at her. His silver-and-black hair caught the light. His eyes burned—not with cruelty, but something colder.
"Wrong," he said. "I'm a survivor. You want to live? You follow my rules. You mess up? You die."
He stepped closer.
"They killed my family. They butchered my brother and painted their mark in blood. I will find them."
"And if using all of you gets me closer to them?"
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't have to.
Jason swallowed hard. "What do you need us to do?"
Axel smirked—barely.
"Be ready."
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