Micah and Lee walk down the desolate street, the air thick with the stench of decay.
"So... what we lookin' for?" Lee asks, scanning the boarded-up storefronts.
Micah rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply. "What the hell do you think? Any damn thing we can get our hands on. Ain't picky these days."
Lee stays quiet for a moment before his expression hardens. "Listen, Micah... if you slap Clementine again—or hurt her in any way—"
Micah stops dead in his tracks.
"—I'll kill you." Lee's voice is low, deadly serious.
Micah turns to him, then bursts into laughter. "Heh... hehehe... sure, Lee. Real scary." He claps Lee on the shoulder, grinning. "You keep tellin' yourself that." He lights his last cigarette, taking a long drag before moving on.
Suddenly, the distant clang of a bell echoes through the streets.
Micah's hand flies to his revolver. "Goddammit. Who the hell's ringin' that now?"
Lee listens, eyes narrowing. "No, that ain't the same one as before. It's further off. Whatever it is, it's pullin' the dead that way."
Walkers begin shambling past, groaning as they move away from the two men. Micah and Lee duck behind a crumbling wall, watching.
Micah's eyes flicker with realization. "Huh. Clever bastard."
"What?" Lee whispers.
"Whoever's ringin' that bell—they're clearin' this street. Lurin' the rotters away so they can move through clean."
Lee frowns. "You might be right..."
The last of the walkers disappear around a corner.
"Hmph. Let's move." Micah strides forward, revolver loose in his grip.
They reach the docks, where Kenny's promised boats should be. Instead—nothing.
"Well, well. Look at that. No boats. Kenny's big damn plan—just like I said, a waste of time." Micah smirks.
Lee sighs, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah... guess you were right."
"'Course I was." Micah spits on the ground.
They search nearby buildings, but everything's stripped bare. One apartment is boarded up tight—no way in without drawing a horde.
At the end of the street, a gruesome sight: walkers impaled on pikes, a sign reading "STAY OUT" nailed above them.
"The hell? Who does somethin' like this?" Lee mutters, disgusted.
Micah just shrugs. "Seen worse."
Then—movement. Micah's gaze snaps to a shadow slipping between buildings.
"Get down," he hisses, pulling Lee behind a stack of crates on the dock.
"What is it?" Lee whispers.
Micah tilts his head toward a newspaper stand. "Someone's there. Might finally get some damn answers 'bout this ghost town."
Lee nods. "What's the play?"
"I'll flank 'em. You cover me."
Lee stays low as Micah slinks forward, revolver ready. The figure ducks behind the stand—Micah stands up, gun raised—
Empty.
A rush of movement behind him. Micah spins—the stranger lunges, grabbing for his revolver. He drives an elbow into their face, then cracks the gun across their skull.
"Gah—!" A woman's voice. She stumbles back, swinging an uppercut—Micah blocks, smashing the revolver into her jaw. She collapses onto her back.
Micah kicks her twice in the ribs, then cocks the hammer.
"Micah, don't!" Lee rushes out.
"Wasn't gonna," Micah snaps. "The hell happened to coverin' me?"
"You had it handled," Lee says flatly.
Micah spits, then glares at the woman as she pulls off her hood and mask.
"Name's Lee," Lee offers.
She glares, panting. "...Molly."
Lee nudges Micah.
"Micah," he grunts, still pointing his gun at her. "Now—why's this city a damn graveyard?"
Molly wipes blood from her lip. "When everything went to hell, some folks walled off the whole neighborhood. Crawford. They'll do anything to keep the dead out—and anyone they see as weak."
"Weak how?" Lee asks.
"No kids. No elderly. No sick. If you ain't strong, you ain't welcome. And if you're a 'burden'..." She jerks her chin toward the pikes.
Lee's face darkens. "They just killed 'em?"
"To them, it was survival. No room for weakness."
Micah cuts in. "So Crawford's got all the supplies. Stocked up nice and cozy, huh?"
"Yeah," Molly says warily.
Lee shoots Micah a look. "You ain't thinkin' what I think you're thinkin'."
Micah smirks—
A groan cuts through the air. Walkers, drawn by the noise, shuffle into the street.
A groan cuts through the air. Walkers, drawn by the noise, shuffle into the street.
"Shit," Micah growls.
Molly bolts, scaling a wall with an ice pick.
"Hey!" Micah barks. "Get us the hell up there!"
"Why the hell would I?" she shouts back.
Micah raises his revolver. "'Cause if you don't, I'll put six in your spine before the biters get you."
Molly hesitates, then flops onto her stomach, reaching down. "Hurry up, asshole!"
Micah slaps Lee's shoulder. Lee boosts him up—Molly grabs his hand, hauling him onto the fire escape. Micah turns, grips Lee's wrist, and yanks him up.
They sprint across rooftops, leaping gaps until the walkers are far behind. When Micah recognizes the path back to the mansion, he stops.
"What now?" Molly pants.
Micah raises his revolver—
BANG.
She drops, a hole in her forehead.
"Goddammit, Micah!" Lee shouts. "Why?!"
"She was a risk," Micah says coldly. "You really wanna bring her back to Clem? After what she told us about Crawford?"
"I don't trust you around Clem!" Lee snaps.
Micah's grin is venomous. "Yet who's saved her life half a dozen times now?"
Lee clenches his jaw but says nothing.
"Let's go," Micah says, holstering his gun. "Daylight's burnin'."
They head back to the mansion in silence.