Maggie was stunned by everything Max had just told them.
After the world ended, she could barely imagine a community of a few hundred people surviving together. Thousands? Eight thousand, counting territories? It sounded impossible.
The question kept resurfacing in her mind.
Who exactly was Max?
Everything about him seemed beyond anything she had ever imagined. He wasn't just knowledgeable, strong, and ruthless. He had built and led a civilization in the middle of the apocalypse. Keeping a few dozen survivors alive was hard enough; controlling thousands was an entirely different challenge, and in doing so, she could not deny his ability to lead.
Was he really the same boy who had saved Glenn and Daryl?
Every day seemed to add another layer to the mystery surrounding him. The more she learned, the less she felt she understood.
What fascinated her almost as much as Max were the people around him.
They trusted him completely.
Not the kind of trust born from fear or necessity, but something deeper—a confidence that never seemed to waver.
She glanced at the priest sitting behind her.
Throughout the trip, he had remained relaxed, focused on writing in his notebook as if none of this concerned him. When they had been preparing to leave, he had practically begged to come along.
As if this dangerous journey into unknown territory wasn't a mission at all, but a pleasant hike.
That alone was unsettling.
If Max inspired that kind of confidence in the people around him, then perhaps there was far more to him than she had first believed.
And judging by the silence inside the vehicle, Maggie wasn't the only one asking questions.
"SCREECH!"
The car came to a sudden stop, throwing everyone forward in their seats.
"What happened?" Maggie asked, panic creeping into her voice as she looked over her shoulder.
"Daryl."
"There's a tunnel up ahead, and I don't feel good about it," Daryl said, pointing through the windshield.
Ahead of them, the tunnel looked like a dark abyss. No light shone from within, and nobody could tell how far it stretched. From where they sat, the darkness seemed endless. It was the perfect place for bandits or anyone else to set up an ambush.
"Let's take another road," Carol suggested. "I don't want to deal with whatever's inside that tunnel."
From experience, they all knew that if a risk could be avoided, it usually should be.
"But taking another route will cost us a lot of time," Maggie argued, gripping her hands tightly. "Every time we run into something suspicious and turn around, it'll take forever to reach Atlanta."
Her gaze remained fixed on the tunnel.
The group fell silent as they stared into the darkness ahead, each weighing the risks against the precious time they had left.
"Drive. I'll handle it."
The confident voice came from behind them.
Daryl and Maggie turned toward Max. He was lounging lazily in his seat, wearing the same bored expression as always, but his eyes were fixed on the tunnel with unusual focus, as if he could see something hidden within the darkness.
"Let's go. What are we waiting for? Follow the Lord's order."
The priest looked up from the notebook he had been writing in.
He sounded just as calm and confident as Max.
They were the two calmest people in the vehicle. While everyone else was tense, bracing for the worst, those two sat as if nothing in the world could touch them. It didn't make sense... but their confidence was strangely reassuring.
Daryl slammed both hands against the steering wheel.
"Fuck it. We're going. Anyone gets in my way, I'm running them over."
His foot came down hard on the gas.
The Humvee lurched forward and rolled toward the tunnel's black mouth.
Maggie immediately drew her pistol. Carol did the same.
The moment they crossed into the tunnel, darkness swallowed them.
Headlights cut through the gloom, revealing rows of abandoned vehicles scattered across the roadway. Rusted shells sat motionless like skeletons, their empty windows staring back.
Inside one of them, a burned, decomposing body still slumped in place...someone who had died before ever turning.
The deeper they went, the worse it became. Blood streaked the concrete in dark, dried patterns. The Humvee's tires rolled over the remains of walkers long since killed, bones crunching faintly beneath the weight.
Then it hit them... not the smell of rotting bodies, because they were already used to that, but something else, something far more pungent, like manure. Maggie pinched her nose, unable to identify the source.
Nobody spoke.
Only the engine growled, and debris clattered beneath the tires.
Maggie tightened her grip on her gun.
Every shadow looked like it was hiding something.
Or someone.
Yet Max remained relaxed.
His eyes stayed fixed on the darkness ahead, deeper in the tunnel, as if he were waiting for it to make the first move.
"FWOOSH!"
A bright orange light shot toward them from the darkness.
"Molotov!" she realized.
"What the hell is that?" Daryl shouted, slamming the Humvee to a stop.
The bottle hit the ground just a few feet ahead.
Fire erupted instantly.
Flames spread across the pavement, throwing harsh light into the tunnel and revealing what had been hidden moments before.
A chain of cars blocked the path, and behind them were about twenty people taking cover.
Weapons raised bows drawn, arrows nocked, and a few firearms scattered among them. Not enough firepower to stop the Humvee... except for the Molotovs they still held.
But that wasn't what made Maggie freeze.
It was their clothes.
Every single one of them was wearing fabric covered in feces, layered over their bodies like a second skin.
Maggie felt a chill of disgust crawl up her spine.
"Come out peacefully. If you do, we're not going to kill you. We'll just take your stuff and leave you alone. But if you resist—"
The voice came from somewhere behind the barricade of vehicles.
"—then I'll fucking burn you alive!"
As the flames from the Molotov flickered, the source finally came into view.
A large man stood ahead, one arm missing, his face hidden behind a scratched hockey mask.
Everyone inside the Humvee knew the man's words were bullshit. They had survived long enough to know better, so no one was willing to leave the safety of the vehicle.
Max tilted his head slightly, taking in the scene.
"Yeah… this smells like shit," he muttered, then let out a short laugh. "And these people are literally covered in it too. Hah."
"Daryl, back up!" Carol snapped, ignoring Max's comment. Her focus was sharp and controlled. "We'll deal with the Molotov later. First, we get out of here."
Even if a few Molotovs hit the Humvee, they could survive it. Fire wasn't the immediate problem.
Getting trapped here was.
"Look closer… there's more than Molotovs," Max said, pointing into the darkness.
Everyone turned, straining their eyes. At first, they saw nothing.
Confused, they looked back at him.
"You can't see it?" Max added calmly. "They've got a few grenades and pipe bombs."
That made them focus harder.
Slowly, details began to emerge.
Behind the group ahead, more dangers became visible.
Several of them had grenades strapped to their belts. Others carried crude pipe bombs, held in their hands or secured in makeshift harnesses. If even a few of those explosives hit the Humvee, it would be enough to disable it... or worse.
Daryl tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his voice rising in anger.
"You knew they were here… why the hell didn't you tell us?"
Maggie turned sharply toward Max as well, her frustration boiling over.
"Why didn't you?"
Carol's eyes stayed fixed on him.
"You already knew they were here?"
Max remained relaxed, still sitting like none of this mattered.
"I saw them before we entered," he said flatly. "Didn't bother mentioning it. They weren't that important."
Maggie's anger flared instantly.
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Not important? Our lives are on the line!"
"Watch your mouth, young lady," the priest said, his tone suddenly sharp.
He looked at her with a seriousness that made her hesitate... controlled, unsettlingly firm.
From outside, the one-armed man's voice cut through the tension.
"I said come out peacefully! I'll give you ten seconds. If you don't, don't blame me!"
He began counting loudly.
"Ten… nine…"
Inside the Humvee, urgency snapped into focus.
"Focus on the armed group," Daryl said. "We can't just power through this… we need to fight. Get ready."
Carol moved toward the turret—but paused.
Max was already there.
He sat at the gun mount, smiling faintly as if he were waiting for something entertaining.
Outside, the one-armed leader watched the Humvee with a greedy look as he continued counting.
"Three!"
"Two!"
"One!"
He stopped before finishing. When his eyes landed on Max, his expression shifted into something pleased, as if he could easily scare the boy.
"Boss, let's not kill that woman. She looks good… we can enjoy her. We're getting tired of not having something new to play with," one of his men said, eyes fixed on Maggie with lust.
A few of the men behind him nodded in agreement.
The one-armed man looked over and saw Maggie at the front, meeting his gaze with disdain. Her eyes were dangerous, yes, but to him she was still just a woman.
A cruel thought crossed his mind.
A waste to kill her, he decided.
"She'll make a perfect toy."
"Yeah, you're right. We need something new to play with. Except for her, we'll kill them all…"
Then he saw Carol. At first, he thought she was a man because of her short hair, but on closer look, she was a woman—not as attractive as the one in front, but still a woman.
"There's one more woman too. I'll reward her to one of you, so work hard."
Hearing that, his men laughed in excitement. The idea of possession alone was enough to thrill them.
He looked up at the boy on top of the Humvee and signaled one of his men to fire. The man nodded and pulled the trigger.
The bullet struck the Humvee's armor and ricocheted harmlessly away.
The one-armed man smiled, thinking it would be enough to scare him.
"Get the fuck down. If you don't, I'll cut your head off, so—"
He never finished the sentence.
The gun erupted.
Rounds punched through cars and into the men behind them.
His legs went first—torn away in a spray of blood before he even understood why he was screaming.
Then it wasn't just him.
The whole tunnel was screaming.
Arrows flew toward the Humvee and shattered on impact. Bullets bounced harmlessly off the armor.
Molotov and grenades arced forward... but never landed. Shot out of the air mid-flight, they detonated among their own attackers, ripping bodies apart. Others exploded in their hands, burning them alive.
Limbs and fragments of men scattered across the tunnel floor like the wreckage itself had grown teeth.
The tunnel was painted with blood and mangled remains.
And through all of it, the burning, the screaming, the chaos—
"AHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
The boy on the Humvee was laughing.
Not nervous laughter. Not adrenaline.
Full-throated, delighted laughter, like he was watching fireworks instead of a massacre.
A few tried to run. He let them go a few steps, savoring it, before picking them off without hurry. One went down legs-first mid-crawl, then lost an arm to the next burst, the rest of him following half a second later.
"Please, don't kill me!" a man begged, trembling, his hand barely attached.
A bullet blew his head apart.
Some chose to end their own lives before the boy could.
Max took his time. Smiling. Watching fear spread through a crowd right before the bullets caught up to it.
The one-armed man tried to crawl away, weeping, dragging what remained of his body.
One leg hung barely attached, leaving a trail of blood.
"Killing people without a fight got boring fast."
Max stretched, rolling his shoulders.
"C'mon. Let's go meet the leader. He's still breathing… for now."
The priest climbed down after him, unbothered, as if they were heading out for coffee.
Maggie shoved the door open and threw up.
Carol and Daryl weren't doing much better, both pale and struggling to keep it together.
Maggie didn't know who Max really was.
But she knew, with absolute certainty, that she never wanted to be his enemy.