The laughter died, and the chewing stopped. Even the fire seemed to quiet, its crackling reduced to a low, nervous pop as every pair of eyes in the camp turned toward the blond kid.
Rick was the first to speak, "Lucien, why do you think that?"
Lucien didn't rush. He'd spent the last few minutes working out exactly how much to say and how to say it without raising the wrong questions. He looked toward Carl first.
"Carl mentioned something to me earlier today. He said walkers have been showing up near the camp. More than once in the last couple of days."
Carl nodded from his spot by the fire, confirming it without hesitation. "Yeah. It's been happening. They get closer each time."
"The closest was this morning," Lucien continued, turning back to the adults. "They made it to the edge of camp and ate the deer Daryl had been tracking."
Every head swiveled to Daryl.
The hunter had gone still the moment Lucien mentioned the deer. Now he set down the grilled squirrel he had been working on and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He did not deny it or say a word. He simply met Lucien's eyes and gave a single nod.
That simple confirmation seemed to land harder than any argument could have.
Shane frowned, shifting in his chair. "Alright, but hold on. We've had strays wander in before. A few walkers poking around doesn't mean we've got a horde bearing down on us."
"No," Lucien agreed. "But it does mean they're getting closer. And there's something else. When I was at Harrison Memorial Hospital, before Rick woke up, I ran into a couple who'd escaped from another camp."
He looked around the fire, making sure he had everyone's attention. "They said their camp had been safe for weeks. It was remote and well hidden. Then one night, a horde found them anyway."
"How?" Morales sat up straighter, his brow creased. "Those things don't exactly read maps."
"They migrate," Lucien said. "The same way animals do when food runs out. They follow the living. When one area runs dry, they move on to the next. Atlanta was packed with walkers when we left, but there were almost no living people there. Sooner or later, those walkers are going to run out of food and start spreading out, looking for more."
The fire crackled.
"And when they do, they'll find us."
Nobody argued. The logic was too hard to pick apart. A few people exchanged uncomfortable glances. Someone's spoon clinked against a tin plate.
"When?" Rick asked. "When do you think they'll get here?"
Lucien shook his head. "I don't know. It could be a week. It could be tomorrow." He held Rick's gaze. "Or it could be tonight."
"Oh, come on." Merle snorted from his seat, waving a hand dismissively. "Kid's trying to ruin everyone's night. What's this, a ghost story?"
"It's not a ghost story." Lucien turned to face him, and there was something in his expression that made the older man pause. "It's a prediction based on a pattern. And the reason I'm bringing it up now, tonight, is because right now nobody in this camp is on proper watch. If I'm wrong, we lose nothing by being careful. If I'm right and we do nothing..." He didn't finish the sentence.
Shane watched the kid make his case, and something complicated moved behind his eyes.
Part of him wanted to dismiss it. Lucien was eleven. Smart, yeah, maybe the smartest kid he had ever met, but still a kid. And kids who'd been through what Lucien had been through sometimes saw danger everywhere. Trauma did that. It made the world feel like it was always about to collapse.
But another part of him knew better than to write the kid off.
There was one other thing as well. Something he did not talk about, not even with himself. The kid had saved his life that day in the office building.
Looking at Lucien's face, he couldn't bring himself to argue.
He sighed and pushed himself out of his chair. "Alright. You've thought this through. I can see that."
He dropped a hand onto Lucien's shoulder and squeezed once. "I'm done eating anyway. I might as well walk the perimeter and put my mind at ease. Yours too."
Rick nodded immediately. "I'll come too. It's safer in pairs."
"Then I can—" Lucien started.
A hand came down on the back of his head.
"Eat your food, kid." Merle had appeared behind him at some point, fire axe resting against his shoulder. "Adults stuff. Stay put."
He moved past Lucien without waiting for a response, falling into step beside Daryl, who had already picked up his crossbow and was checking the bolts. The two of them headed toward Rick, who was pulling ammunition from a bag near the fire and handing it out.
What had been a warm welcome dinner was transforming into something else entirely.
Morales watched the shift happen in real time. He settled Miranda and the kids first, making sure they were close to the center of camp, then collected a rifle from Rick and posted up near the tree line alongside Morgan and T-Dog. Others followed suit, grabbing whatever weapons were available, positioning themselves around the perimeter.
The laughter was gone.
Lucien stayed where he was, picking at the last of his grilled fish. Carl and Duane had gone quiet beside him, the mood having killed whatever they'd been talking about.
Amy stood up from her spot near the fire.
"Oh my God," she said, pressing a hand to her stomach with an exaggerated grimace.
Andrea's head snapped up immediately. "You're not seriously thinking about going out there too, are you?"
Amy looked at her sister's worried face and let out a laugh. "I'm going to the bathroom."
A few of the women around them burst out laughing. Even Andrea cracked a smile, shaking her head.
Lucien's heart lurched.
He knew what was coming next. He knew it with the same certainty he knew the sun would rise, because he'd seen it happen. Amy would walk behind the RV. The walker would be there—silent, patient, having crept into position while everyone's attention was on the fire and the argument and the laughter.
And it would bite her.
He shoved the last of his fish into his mouth, chewing fast without tasting it. Then he slapped his forehead with exaggerated theatricality, loud enough for the people nearby to notice.
"Bloody hell, I completely forgot to give Rick his hat back."
He picked up the sheriff's hat from beside his blanket, which he had been carrying since Atlanta with the intention of returning it. He stood and headed toward the RV, moving at what he hoped looked like a casual pace.
It wasn't casual. Every step felt like it was taking ten times longer than it should. His pulse was hammering in his ears. He could feel the seconds ticking away like a countdown.
Amy was already heading in the same direction. She disappeared around the back of the RV.
Now.
Lucien broke into a sprint.
His hand closed around the weapon at his belt. He pulled it free as he ran, rounding the corner of the RV at full speed.
Amy had just stepped down from the rear steps of the vehicle, one hand absently dipping into her pocket, probably thinking about the toilet paper she'd meant to ask someone for.
She didn't see it.
The walker was right there, pressed into the RV's shadow, perfectly still until that exact moment. It was a man, or had been once. Balding, dressed in what had once been a button-down shirt, now dark with dried blood. Its jaw hung open, the inside of its mouth black with congealed gore.
It lunged straight for Amy's arm.
"Watch out!"
The scream tore out of Lucien's throat before he had even fully registered what he was seeing. It was raw and desperate, loud enough to carry across the entire camp.
She turned instinctively.
A rotten, hideous face filled her vision.