Hot air, thick with dust and a burnt smell, choked them, making them cough.
In the hospital's backyard, Lynn coughed, leaning on his knees, struggling to breathe.
Tinnitus drowned out some of the walkers' roars, but the ground vibrated more and more clearly beneath their feet—the dragging sound of the approaching horde.
“Jeep!”
Davis roared hoarsely, shoving aside two walkers who swayed from the vibrations, his machete splitting the head of one blocking his path.
He pointed to the rear-side, to the dark green jeep that was smoking after crashing through a roadblock, half-hidden behind an overturned ambulance, its front twisted, white steam rising from its engine hood.
Minshan supported Rick, both of them unsteady on their feet.
Rick’s face was ashen, his eyes fixed in one direction, his lips moving silently.
Lynn wiped away the blood and ash obscuring his eyes, forcing himself to stand upright.
“Get in! Quick!”
Lynn yelled, rushing towards the jeep.
Davis pulled open the deformed driver's door, got in, and turned the key.
With a groan from the engine, it surprisingly restarted.
Lynn pulled open the back door, sweeping aside spent casings and debris from the seat.
“Minshan, shove him in!”
He yelled, looking around warily.
Through the gap in the backyard wall, more walkers appeared, swaying, drawn by the huge roar of flames, surging into the open space.
Minshan forcefully pushed the exhausted Rick into the back seat, then squeezed in herself, closing the door.
Lynn was the last to jump into the passenger seat; as soon as the door closed, a rotten hand slapped “pat” against the blood-stained wire mesh of the car window.
“Go!” Lynn’s voice was hoarse.
Davis violently turned the steering wheel and stomped on the gas pedal.
The jeep’s tires spun for a moment on the blood-mud and shattered bone ground, then suddenly shot forward, speeding towards the back street.
The car bounced over rubble and abandoned car piles, its chassis groaning, with only heavy breathing and the engine’s roar inside.
Rick slumped in the back seat, his chest heaving, his eyes staring blankly at the roof, clutching a cold Glock and a fire axe.
Unfamiliar weapons, unfamiliar companions, an unfamiliar world of hell.
Lynn’s words echoed in his mind: “Outside, it’s all dead people eating people… the world is over…”
Fear was chilling, but a stronger thought overwhelmed it—Lori! Carl! Shane! Where are they?!
“Stop the car!”
Rick’s voice was hoarse but forceful.
He struggled to sit up, staring intently out the car window at the dilapidated streets flashing by, trying to discern the direction.
“What?”
Davis glanced at him in the rearview mirror, not slowing down.
“I said stop the car! Now!”
Rick propped himself up with his elbows, his face pale, his eyes sharp.
“Turn around! Go to Golden Oak Street! My house! Lori and Carl are still there!”
“Are you crazy?” Lynn sharply turned his head, his eyes sweeping over Rick, “Look outside! It’s over ten kilometers from your house, full of walkers, going back to die?”
He pointed out the window; a small group of walkers at the street corner, attracted by the engine sound, were already closing in.
“It’s a miracle you’re alive; come back to the Zoo Base with me, it’s safe there.”
“Safe?” Rick let out a short, sharp laugh, full of despair, “My wife! My son! They might be waiting for me at home, they might be trapped, they might…”
He dared not think, fear seizing him.
“I have to go back! Now! Immediately!”
He reached out and grabbed Davis’s shoulder, interfering with his driving.
“Turn around, or I’ll jump out of the car.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Lynn exploded in anger, pushing down his fatigue and pain.
System mission: bring Rick back.
The Zoo Base was their chance at survival; he couldn’t let him go to his death.
He leaned forward, his arm reaching over the seat, grabbing Rick’s collar, almost lifting him up.
With his other hand, he drew his pistol, pressing the muzzle against Rick’s forehead.
“Listen,” Lynn’s voice was low and cold, tinged with killing intent, “We snatched your life from a pile of bombed corpses; it’s not for feeding to walkers. Either shut up and come with us, or…”
His thumb pressed hard, and with a click, he disengaged the safety, “I’ll leave you here forever, to save us the trouble.”
Cold metal against his skin, the chill of death froze Rick’s movements and shouts.
His pupils constricted, disbelieving.
Minshan held her breath, her body tensing.
Davis’s hands gripped the steering wheel, veins bulging, the car’s speed undiminished.
In an instant—
A cold, ethereal blue light screen, accompanied by static electricity, once again filled Lynn’s vision.
On the light screen, text flickered:
“Detected critical mission target (Rick Grimes) strong autonomous will deviating from preset route…”
“Survival Mission forcibly updated: Rescue Rick Grimes and his core associates”
“New Mission Objective: Escort Rick Grimes to his Golden Oak Street residence, ensure the survival of his wife (Lori Grimes) and his son (Carl Grimes).
And safely bring all of them to the host’s core stronghold (Atlanta Zoo).”
“Mission Time Limit: 48 hours (Remaining time: 47 hours 59 minutes)”
“Mission Failure Penalty: Host… Eradication!”
The final crimson words were glaring.
“Damn it!”
Lynn squeezed out a suppressed growl from his throat, his hand gripping the collar suddenly loosened, and the gun muzzle pointed at Rick’s forehead dropped.
He leaned heavily back against the seat, his face ashen, his eyes filled with furious despair.
The original mission had changed; the mission targets had become three.
The time was recalculated.
The penalty remained—eradication!
The plan was fragile before the system’s rules.
Silence in the car, the engine roaring, the walkers’ roars approaching outside the window.
Rick, still shaken, gasped for breath, the red mark from the gun muzzle clearly visible on his forehead. He looked at Lynn’s dejected appearance, puzzled and alarmed.
“Boss?” Davis looked at him in the rearview mirror.
Lynn closed his eyes, then opened them again, suppressing his rage and despair, leaving only cold resignation.
He rubbed his face, then turned to look at the startled Rick in the back seat, his voice hoarse, tired, yet decisive:
“Davis… turn around. Go to Golden Oak Street.”
“What?!”
Davis and Minshan exclaimed simultaneously.
Davis almost slammed on the brakes.
“Do it!” Lynn’s voice rose, his command unquestionable, “Go to his house, find his wife and kid.”
He no longer looked at them, his gaze fixed on the dilapidated streetscape receding outside the window.
Golden Oak Street… the empty house in the original story.
He wondered if they were still there now.
Suppressing his doubts and unease, he had no choice.
The system demanded they find them; he had to find them, gambling on a sliver of hope.
Under Davis’s control, the jeep screeched as it spun its tail, speeding towards Golden Oak Street—the opposite direction from the Zoo.
The atmosphere inside the car dropped to freezing point.
Rick leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, his chest heaving, clutching the fire axe tightly.
Minshan checked Rick’s IV.
Davis drove in silence, his eyes scanning the road, roughly turning and crushing obstacles, the car body bumping.
Lynn leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, the blood-red countdown flickering in his vision: 47:56:45… 47:56:44… Time flowed in silence and bumps.
Outside the window, it grew more desolate.
Abandoned vehicles, overturned trash cans, debris, bloodstains.
Scattered walkers, attracted by the engine sound, turned and gave chase, but were quickly outrun.
Near the Golden Oak Street community, there were more obstacles.
Davis frequently detoured, once crashing into a truck in the middle of the road, the impact throwing the people inside forward.
Lynn’s head hit the car roof, his vision momentarily blacking out.
“Almost there!”
Rick’s voice was shaky with hope; he struggled to sit upright, his face pressed against the dirty car window, trying to identify landmarks.
“Turn left at the next intersection! The third house… my house!”
The jeep sharply turned into the residential street; houses on both sides had tightly closed doors and windows, some with broken windows and fluttering curtains.
Yard grass grew wild, some car doors were wide open and messy.
The house Rick pointed to—a two-story, beige house with a white fence—appeared.
The house was relatively intact, doors and windows closed, curtains drawn, the front lawn messy but without major damage.
“That’s it! Stop the car!”
Rick’s tone rose.
Davis braked, and the jeep stopped by the roadside a dozen meters away, tires screaming.
As soon as the car stopped, Rick pushed the door open, staggering as if to rush out.
“Wait!”
Lynn snapped, grabbing his arm, pulling him back with a stumble.
“Davis, keep watch! Minshan, give him glucose first!”
He issued orders first, his sharp eyes scanning the street and houses.
It was too quiet, unnaturally quiet.
Davis held his shotgun, on alert, while Minshan pulled out a glucose injection.
“Let go of me! Lori! Carl!”
Rick struggled, his eyes fixed on his front door.
Lynn held him firmly, staring at the house, and commanded in a low voice: “If you want to see them alive, calm down! Look carefully! Don’t run into a pile of walkers!”
Lynn’s tone was cold, and Rick’s struggle stiffened. He gasped for breath, his bloodshot eyes shifted, looking at Lynn with alarm and fear.
Minshan quickly administered the glucose.
Lynn motioned for Davis to cover him, drew his pistol, and cocked it.
“Follow me, don’t make a sound.”
He whispered, pushed the door open, crouched low, using the car as cover, and moved to the front yard fence.
Rick, supported by Minshan, followed closely, his heart pounding.
Davis held his gun, guarding the rear.
Lynn didn’t kick the door; instead, he pressed against the wall, moved to the window with drawn curtains, and listened.
No TV sounds, no human voices, no footsteps… only the wind and the distant roars of walkers.
Lynn’s heart sank; he gave Davis a look.
Davis stepped forward, lifted his foot, and violently kicked the front door at the lock cylinder.
Bang! Crack!
The door lock and wooden frame shattered, and the door sprang open inwards, hitting the wall.
Dust, a faint smell of decay, and a hint of blood rushed out.
Lynn was the first to rush in, pistol held level, scanning the entryway.
The entryway was a mess, shoes scattered everywhere, the coat rack overturned, and the wall had messy, blackened, splattered bloodstains.
The bloodstains extended towards the living room corridor.
Rick followed in, saw the bloodstains, his face turned ashen, and he swayed.
“No…”
He mumbled, rushing into the living room.
The living room was worse; the sofa was overturned, the coffee table shattered, glass everywhere.
A family photo frame on the floor was broken, the photo torn.
Large patches of dried, blackened bloodstains and drag marks extended towards the back door.
The back door was ajar, the doorframe had impact marks and blurry bloody handprints.
“Lori! Carl!”
Rick screamed, his voice echoing in the empty house, staggering towards the back door.
Lynn’s heart sank.
The system hadn’t failed… they might be alive.
“Davis! You guard the front door! Minshan, check the bloodstains!”
Lynn commanded, following Rick closely through the back door.
The small backyard was a mess, ropes broken, clothes scattered, flowerbeds trampled.
Most noticeable was the large hole smashed through the backyard fence. Dark fabric threads hung from the splinters of wood around the hole.
Beside it, on the muddy ground, were messy, mud-stained boot prints, the size of an adult male, extending towards the woods outside the fence.
Next to these prints were smaller, shallower ones, like a child’s.
Rick rushed to the hole, saw the footprints leading into the woods, his eyes vacant. He knelt in the mud, grabbing at the grass, whimpering in his throat.
Lynn squatted, examining the footprints and fabric threads.
Minshan followed out, squatted at the end of the bloodstain drag marks, sniffed the dried black blood, and examined the bloody handprints on the back doorframe.
“The bloodstains are old, three or four days or more, blackened.”
Minshan’s voice was calm, “Handprint size… adult male, struggled, drag marks… more than one person, one was dragged, the other… possibly followed on their own.”
She pointed to the footprints in the mud, “Small footprints next to large boot prints, steps hurried but not chaotic, not like forced dragging, more like… running alongside.”
She looked at Lynn: “Someone was injured and bleeding, forcibly taken away, the abductor had help or coercion, and a child followed.”
Rick suddenly looked up, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Minshan: “Shane! He took Lori and Carl! They’re alive!”
Shane, his partner, and his best friend, must have come to save his family.
Lynn looked at the footprints on the ground leading into the woods, then at the countdown in his vision: 47:09:22… They were alive; it was indeed Shane who took them.
Where to?
At this point, they shouldn’t have reached the RV camp yet.
The target had changed from a fixed point to a moving one.
“Find them.”
Lynn stood up, his voice low, tired, yet decisive.
He looked at Rick, kneeling in the mud, his eyes filled with frantic hope, and at the dark woods.