Chapter 5
The sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the world painted in cold shades of gray and black. The streets were quieter than usual — too quiet. Even the groans of the dead seemed distant, muffled under the weight of something unseen.
Marcel moved fast but careful, weaving through trees, the duffel bag slung over his shoulder, its weight far lighter than he'd hoped. Supplies low in the area.
He cursed under his breath, eyes constantly scanning the shadows.
As he approached the complex, his steps slowed.
Something was wrong.
The air smelled of dust and splintered wood — and fresh blood. Moonlight revealed what was left of the structure: part of the building had collapsed, the upper corner caved inward as if struck by some invisible hand. Rubble littered the ground below in jagged mounds.
His stomach dropped.
No…
Without thinking, he broke into a sprint, boots crunching over shattered glass and loose brick as he rushed toward the side entrance. The barricade he'd so carefully built was torn apart, scattered like matchsticks.
Panic clawed at his throat.
Sarah.
He forced his way inside, heart pounding like a drum.
The walls were wrecked, cracked, doors broken off their hinges, blood smeared across the floor and walls. His eyes darted to every corner, his grip tightening around the pistol in his hand.
"Sarah?!" His voice rang out, rough and desperate, echoing through the hollow shell of the building.
No answer.
Only the groans of distant walkers still lurking somewhere else
He moved fast, clearing room after room, sweeping the corners like muscle memory. The second floor was half-gone The door to her room was open, the chair beneath the window still tipped on its side.
He rushed to the window and leaned out, scanning the alley below. The disturbed debris — the marks in the dirt — told him what he needed to know.
She jumped.
At least she got out.
A shaky breath escaped his lungs, relief battling panic in his chest.
But where was she now?
He turned sharply, eyes narrowing.
Think. Where would she go?
They were surrounded by woods, but they were littered with walkers tonight — they must've been drawn by the collapse. She wouldn't have gotten injured.
He slammed the duffel bag down, pulling a small flashlight from the side pocket and clipping it to his jacket. The narrow beam cut through the darkness as he slipped back out through the trees, landing hard but steady.
"Come on, sarah… where are you…" he muttered.
The dark forest were more dangerous now — small groups of walkers lurked, stumbling aimlessly. Every few feet he paused, listening carefully for any sound — a cry, a call, anything.
Then — faintly — he heard it.
A soft shuffle. Quick breaths. The tiniest sound of someone limping nearby.
Marcel's eyes snapped toward the noise.
a small figure pressed against the large tree, struggling to stay upright.
"Sarah!" he called, louder now.
The figure froze, then turned.
"Marcel!" her voice broke, relief and fear blending together.
He ran to her, heart hammering, eyes scanning her body for injuries as he reached out and steadied her trembling frame.
Her voice cracked. "I-I thought you were gone… I didn't know what to do… they got inside, I had to—"
"Shh… I know, I know," he whispered, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, his voice calm but sharp. "We'll talk later. We need to move."
A chorus of moans erupted nearby — the walkers had heard them.
"Dammit," he growled under his breath.
Without another word, he lifted her gently into his arms, her weight light but tense. She clung to him, burying her face into his chest as he turned dipper into the forest.
The dead were coming.
________
Elsewhere
""Are we safe now?"
"Of course, Clem. We're safe," Lee said softly.
Clementine curled closer into his side, her small fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing anchoring her. The truck bounced slightly on the uneven road, but she didn't seem to notice — her mind was still haunted by the close call at the pharmacy.
The backseat was quiet except for the low hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle. Carley sat beside them, arms crossed, staring blankly ahead, her expression unreadable. She hadn't said much since they left.
Lilly sat further back, silent, rigid — her posture like stone, her jaw clenched. Glenn was the only one with visible emotion, hunched forward with his head in his hands, quietly grieving the loss of Doug. He hadn't spoken a word since they pulled away.
And then there was Larry.
From the front seat, the old man kept glancing back, shooting daggers at Lee with every turn of the truck. His eyes were full of suspicion and something else — hatred, barely concealed. Every twitch of Lee's jaw or shift in posture seemed to irritate him further.
Lee rubbed at his jawline absently, the sting from earlier still fresh — both the bruise and the weight of the moment behind it.
Kenny drove in silence, knuckles tight on the steering wheel. Katjaa sat beside him, holding Duck in her arms as he drifted in and out of sleep.
No one really knew where they were going.
Just that the road behind them was filled with death.
And the road ahead… hopefully, with something better.
Their next best chance was a rundown motel Glenn had spotted earlier that day — boarded-up windows, an empty parking lot, and maybe, just maybe, a place to catch their breath.
Lee looked down at Clementine again. Her eyes were closed now, but her breathing was still uneven, her body curled in tight.
"Glenn, right? How far out is this motel?"
Kenny's voice broke the silence, quick and sharp with tension, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.
Glenn didn't react at first — his head still down, fingers laced together as if trying to hold himself together.
"Hey! Glenn!" Kenny barked louder this time, snapping Glenn from his trance.
The younger man flinched, lifting his head. His eyes were rimmed red, still damp with grief, but he forced himself to focus.
"Uh… s-sorry… It's not far," Glenn said, voice rough with emotion. He wiped his eyes quickly. "Maybe ten, fifteen minutes, tops… If we're lucky."
Kenny nodded, refocusing on the road ahead, his jaw tightening.
"We better be lucky," he muttered under his breath.
The truck fell silent again, the only sound the steady rumble of the tires and the occasional groan of the suspension as they navigated the cracked, uneven pavement.
Lee's hand stayed on Clementine's shoulder, his thumb tracing slow circles of comfort as her breathing finally started to steady.
But the unease in the air was suffocating.
No one trusted anyone.
No one felt safe.
And the truth was — they weren't.
Not yet.
_______
Ahead, the dark outline of the motel finally crept into view.
A battered, weather-beaten sign hung askew over the lot, half the letters missing, the remaining ones barely lit by the flickering remnants of old bulbs.
The place looked abandoned.
But the closer they got, the worse it looked.
The upstairs walkway was straight out of a horror film — broken doors hanging off their hinges, deep cracks spiderwebbing along the concrete walls, and blood. Everywhere.
It was smeared across railings, splattered along the floors, dark stains trailing down the steps like something — or someone — had been dragged.
In the parking lot below, the dead lay scattered like discarded trash.
At least ten walkers, maybe more.
Their rotted forms sprawled across the cracked asphalt.
The stairs leading to the upper floor were partially collapsed — the railing twisted, the concrete fractured — but still standing. Barely.
"Jesus…" Kenny muttered under his breath, easing the truck to a stop a good distance from the lot.
Carley sat forward, eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene.
"Someone's already been through here," she said grimly.
"Or still is," Lilly added coldly, her voice low but sharp.
Lee's eyes swept the area, every muscle tense, his hand still resting protectively on Clementine's small shoulder.
The motel might've been a chance for shelter… but it was clear now — it came with risks.
Too many unanswered questions.
Who killed the walkers?
What happened upstairs?
And more importantly…
Were they really alone?
Kenny killed the engine, the truck falling into eerie silence.
"All right," he said, gripping the wheel one last time before pulling his hand away. "We clear this place. Careful. Quiet."
No one argued.
There wasn't much choice.
Because in this world… that was the best-case scenario.