Chapter 29 – An Unexpected Ambush
"TAKE COVER!"
Hanks roared, shoving Glenn hard to the ground.
A split second later—
A hail of bullets shredded the air where they had been standing.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Rounds slammed into shelves and walls behind them, spraying sparks, splinters, and debris in every direction.
Glass bottles exploded.
Food packages ruptured and burst open, shredded into ribbons.
"Holy shit!" Glenn yelped.
A stray bullet nearly grazed him.
Panicking, he dragged the heavy storage bin and scrambled behind an overturned shelf.
Hanks rolled behind a stack of collapsed boxes, the weight of his backpack and bin slowing him down.
Gunfire ahead.
A horde of walkers behind.
They were completely trapped in the narrow, cursed space in front of the supermarket's entrance.
"Raaaagh!"
The first few walkers surged forward, arms reaching—one clawed hand nearly snatching Glenn's ankle.
"F—fuck!" Glenn screamed, terror ripping through him.
On raw instinct, he swung his baseball bat with every ounce of strength he had.
THUNK!
A sickening impact.
The bat smashed into the walker's skull with a brutal crack, twisting its head at an unnatural angle.
It collapsed sideways, stunned but still alive, claws scraping helplessly at the floor.
"FINISH IT! Smash its head in!" Hanks shouted from across the aisle, locked in combat with three walkers of his own.
Hanks' eyes were cold as steel.
Three walkers lunged at him simultaneously—but he didn't flinch.
He dropped his center of gravity, slipping under the first walker's grasp.
The screwdriver shot up like a venomous fang—
SHUNK!
Straight from the jaw into the brain.
Without pausing, he twisted with the momentum of the collapsing corpse, caught the second walker's arm—
—and yanked downward with savage force.
CRACK!
Bone snapped like dry wood.
In the same breath, his blood-stained screwdriver slashed sideways, carving through the walker's throat and part of its spine.
A spray of dark, rotten blood arced through the air.
The third walker finally reached him.
Hanks didn't fall back.
He planted a brutal front kick straight into its chest—
WHUMP!
The walker flew backward, limbs flailing.
Hanks was already on it.
Before it hit the ground, the screwdriver came down like a spear—
SKRRT!
Through the eye socket, deep into the brain.
Three walkers dead in the space of a heartbeat—clean, efficient, utterly merciless.
On the other side, Glenn heard Hanks' warning.
Heart hammering, he stared at the twitching walker on the floor.
His hands trembled—but he raised the bat again.
Eyes squeezed shut—
He slammed it down.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
The skull burst like an overripe melon.
Glenn staggered back, gagging, breath ragged.
But the danger wasn't over.
Not even close.
Dozens more walkers poured from the employee room, screaming as they forced their way out of the broken door—
a relentless tidal wave of rotting bodies charging toward them.
Outside the supermarket, the gunfire suddenly ceased.
In its place came a man's arrogant, grating shout:
"God damn it! We found this supermarket first! We lost two brothers clearing the freaks away!"
"Anyone inside—LISTEN UP!"
"Everything you've got—food, water, weapons—THROW IT OUT! NOW!"
Glenn trembled violently, shaken not only by the walkers but by the men outside.
His mind was still stuck in that of a delivery driver; even walkers took him a moment to mentally process.
Human threats? Even worse.
Hanks ignored the shouting completely.
His eyes snapped toward Glenn—
A walker was lunging at him from the side, fangs bared, fingertips inches from Glenn's neck.
And Glenn was still frozen, trapped in a spiral of panic and self-reproach.
Hanks didn't hesitate.
His right arm swung—
The bloodied screwdriver flashed like a shard of cold light—
Cutting through the air.
THWIP!
The screwdriver buried itself cleanly in the walker's temple.
The force staggered it backwards before it crumpled onto the floor with a heavy crash.
Glenn jumped at the sudden sound; when he saw the corpse and the screwdriver jutting from its skull, his face went ghost-white.
"Th-thank you! Officer!"
Hanks didn't answer—
He had already drawn his P226 from his hip.
CLACK!
Round chambered.
With the horde rushing toward him, his gaze didn't waver.
He raised the pistol, aimed, and fired.
Gunfire exploded through the enclosed supermarket—each shot clean, controlled, deadly.
Walkers' skulls burst one after another, the front line collapsing like cut wheat.
Black blood and decayed brain matter splattered everywhere.
Shell casings clattered against the tile floor.
Hanks moved with terrifying precision—
Zero waste.
Zero hesitation.
Even his breathing barely changed.
Muscle memory from years of firearms training guided every motion.
Under pressure, his efficiency only sharpened.
Within seconds, the P226 spat out all twenty rounds—
More than a dozen walkers lay dead at his feet.
The swarm's momentum faltered.
CLICK!
Empty.
The slide locked back.
Hanks didn't blink.
Thumb hit the mag release—
Empty magazine dropped—
A full mag was already in his hand—
SLAP! Inserted.
CLACK! Slide released.
Reload complete.
Faster than most people could even register.
Outside, the men who had been shouting went silent for a few moments—
shocked by the sudden explosion of gunfire inside.
Then voices rose again, louder and greedier:
"Holy hell! You've got guns? Good ones too! That ain't no cheap pistol!"
"Throw out the gun AND the food! Or when you run dry, you're dead anyway!"
"There's a ton of freaks inside! Let's see how long you last! Be good little boys and hand it all over—we might spare you!"
"Officer… what do we do…?"
Glenn's voice trembled with raw fear and creeping despair.
Hanks didn't respond to him—
or the men outside.
His mind was hyperfocused, running calculations:
Ammo left.
Distance.
Horde size.
Risk probability.
Walkers inside weren't stopping—they were getting louder, drawn by the gunshots.
Dozens more footsteps echoed from deeper in the supermarket.
They didn't have long.
Outside, the armed survivors were clearly waiting for them to get overrun or expend all their bullets before swooping in.
They couldn't afford to get boxed in.
Hanks made the call instantly.
"Glenn. Listen carefully."
"I'm going to count to three. When I hit three—you throw your storage bin as hard as you can toward those bastards at the door."
"What? But our food—"
"DO IT. We need to distract them."
Hanks' tone brooked no argument.
"Then duck IMMEDIATELY."
"O-okay!" Glenn stammered, sick with dread—but he knew this was their only chance.
Hanks inhaled deeply, coiling like a predator ready to strike.
"One!"
The men outside were still jeering.
"Two!"
The walkers inside were getting dangerously close.
"THREE! THROW IT!"
Glenn shouted, summoning every last shred of strength.
He hurled the heavy plastic bin filled with cans toward the shattered supermarket entrance.
The bin tumbled and clattered loudly—
A metallic crash echoing across the street.
All eyes outside snapped toward it instantly.