Chapter 17: The Pharmacy
"It's just us! Just the four of us—no one else!"
The raider sobbed uncontrollably, words tripping over themselves as he begged for his life.
But his eyes… they darted left and right, scanning for an escape—lying through his teeth.
He wasn't alone.
Hanks knew it instantly. There had to be more of them nearby—an ambush point or a camp close enough to matter.
He was about to press further when—
"Raaahhhh!!"
A wave of guttural roars exploded from the distance, closing in fast—from multiple directions.
The gunshots had been the pebble thrown into still water, and now the ripples were becoming a tidal wave.
Not just three.
Not five.
Dozens.
Walkers were already spilling out from side streets, alleyways, and abandoned homes.
"HANKS! Get back here! There's too many!"
Kenny's voice cut through the chaos, punctuated by gunfire. They were already engaging the first wave closing in on the truck.
No time.
Cold resolve flashed across Hanks' eyes.
The crowbar at the raider's throat drove forward—then cut sideways in one precise motion.
A wet gasp.
Blood bubbled from the man's throat as he clawed at the wound, body convulsing before collapsing in silence.
[Blunt Weapon Skill ↑]
[Blunt Weapon Lv.4:0/400]
[+4 Attribute EXP]
Hanks didn't spare the corpse a glance.
He sprinted back to the pump, snatched up the oil can—barely a quarter full—and bolted for the truck.
Walkers were now so close that the nearest one was less than ten meters from the tailgate.
"Fill it—now!"
Hanks shoved the can into Kenny's hands and lifted his pistol.
BANG! BANG!
Two walkers dropped—skulls bursting like overripe fruit.
[Headshot Kill]
[Handgun XP +200]
[Police Mastery Bonus]
[Handgun XP +2000]
[Handgun Lv.25:0/25000]
[+2 Attribute XP]
Kenny fumbled with the gas can, pouring as much as he could into the tank—half of it splashing to the ground.
"Hurry! Please hurry!" Katjaa cried, voice shaking. She could already see dozens of silhouettes staggering toward them.
"GO!"
The very second the last drop hit the tank, Kenny threw himself behind the wheel and twisted the key.
The engine sputtered—coughed—nearly died.
Not. Enough. Fuel.
"Come on, come on, COME ON!"
Kenny slammed the ignition and floored the pedal, praying to any god still watching.
Click—
Sputter—
VRROOOOM!
The engine roared back to life.
"MOVE!!!"
Hanks vaulted into the truck bed; Lee dove into the back seat at the last second.
"Hold on!" Kenny barked. Gear or no gear, he slammed the accelerator.
The tires screeched, the truck lurched forward, plowing through two walkers with a sickening crunch as they sped away from the collapsing gas station.
Everyone was gasping for breath—hands trembling.
The air was thick with gasoline fumes, blood, and the stench of rot.
Looking through the rear window, they watched the station vanish beneath a flood of walkers. The raiders' bodies disappeared under clawing hands and tearing teeth.
Minutes later, the truck limped into Macon—rattling like a dying beast.
Each shift of the gear came with a grinding scream from the engine and a new curse from Kenny.
"Fuel's… done."
Kenny stared at the gauge—already pinned at zero. Panic crept into his voice.
Macon's streets were a maze of wrecked cars and shattered storefronts.
The distant shapes of walkers were converging toward the sound of the engine.
They weren't just in trouble—they were about to be buried.
"We need cover—fast!"
Hanks shouted from the truck bed, scanning the buildings with a hunter's precision.
"There! Left corner—a pharmacy!"
Lee pointed ahead, spotting a familiar storefront at the intersection.
It was a neighborhood pharmacy—surprisingly intact compared to the rest of the street.
Every window and the front entrance had been reinforced with thick wooden boards, leaving only narrow slits for visibility.
"That's it—right there!" Kenny latched onto the sight like a drowning man spotting land and jerked the wheel.
The engine responded with one last weak groan… and died completely.
All dashboard lights flickered out.
The pickup coasted forward a few more meters on momentum alone before rolling to a dead stop—about ten meters from the pharmacy entrance.
Bone dry.
"FUCK!"
Kenny slammed the steering wheel. The horn let out a single strained honk—then died with it.
The noise drew the attention of nearby walkers.
"Raaahhh!!!"
The closest few were already at the truck, slamming rotting hands against the windows.
"Out! Move! Get to the pharmacy—NOW!"
Hanks barked, kicking a walker clinging to the door. The rotten body flew back several feet.
He jumped out first, crowbar sweeping in a brutal arc—cracking through a walker's skull like a rotten melon.
"Hurry, hurry!" Kenny bailed out and used the butt of his shotgun to smash back an approaching corpse, shielding his wife and son.
Lee pulled Clementine close, smashing a walker's face with the butt of his Glock to clear a path.
They advanced while fighting, step by step.
Walkers pressed in from all sides—groans rising into a hellish chorus as the streets closed around them.
"Ahh!"
Duck stumbled over debris and fell face-first to the pavement. A walker lunged at him instantly.
"DUCK!!" Kenny's eyes widened in terror—but he froze. The angle was too tight; one wrong shot and he could hit his own son.
BANG! BANG!
Two sharp Glock shots cracked from the pharmacy entrance.
The walker on top of Duck's small body—head burst apart and collapsed off him, splattering gore across the boy's shirt.
Hanks snapped his head toward the gunfire.
A woman in a white blouse stood at the doorway, Glock raised with practiced precision.
Beside her was a young Asian guy dressed like a food delivery driver, gripping a length of pipe as a makeshift weapon.
"Get inside! Move!" the woman shouted, firing again to cover them.
Relief washed through the group—but training and instinct made them glance to Hanks before moving.
"Go! Inside, NOW!" Hanks fired his last few rounds to clear their path and slammed in a fresh magazine mid-sprint.