Chapter 4: Shawn
"Oh, shit!"
Lee stumbled out of the bathroom and froze at the sight—the fence had collapsed, and walkers were pouring in like a flood.
"The back door won't hold! Front door, now!" Hanks barked, shoving Clementine toward Lee.
"Lee! Take her and get out through the front! Straight to the road—go!"
He yanked the backpack shut, slung it on, and pulled the M590 shotgun from his back.
Chack–BOOM!
Hanks didn't bother conserving ammo—he fired repeatedly at the walkers surging through the back door.
In a confined space, the 12-gauge blast was devastating.
The first wave of walkers was blown off their feet, buying them a few precious seconds.
[Shotgun Skill Level Up]
Shotgun Lv.10: 100/10000
(You've trained enough to build muscle memory with pump-action shotguns—allowing fast cycling while shouldered.)
Dust shook loose from the ceiling with each thunderous shot, but the brief delay meant survival.
Lee didn't hesitate. Gritting through the pain, he grabbed Clementine and limped toward the front door. He threw the latch open—sunlight spilled in—
—but the lawn outside was not clear.
A few walkers were already shambling across the yard. Hearing the door, they instantly turned and charged with feral snarls.
"Damn it!" Lee swore, shielding Clementine behind him while searching for something—anything—he could use as a weapon.
"Don't stop! Break through and head for the road!" Hanks shouted from inside, punctuated by another deafening blast and wood splintering behind him.
Lee grabbed a decorative wooden post by the door and swung it hard at the nearest walker.
Crack!
The blow staggered it but didn't kill it. More walkers converged.
"Run with me!" Lee seized Clementine's hand and used the brief opening to sprint toward the road.
Despite her terror, Clementine ran fast—fear fueling her tiny legs.
Meanwhile, Hanks burst out the front door, slamming it shut behind him to slow the walkers inside.
The M590 roared again—another walker closing in on Lee was blasted backward.
[Shotgun EXP +1000]
"Move! Move! Move!" Hanks ordered, firing as he retreated. Shells clattered onto the pavement.
Each pump and blast dropped another walker, carving out a path of carnage.
The trio reached the open stretch of the state highway at last—wide, exposed, with a few silhouettes in the far distance.
"This way!" Hanks pointed along the shoulder. "Stay alert and keep moving!"
His Police Authority talent worked silently in the background—he remained unnaturally calm and decisive, despite the chaos.
Lee and Clementine, both panicked, instinctively followed his lead.
But Lee's injury was becoming a serious problem.
The run had reopened the wound—blood seeped through the bandages, and his pace slowed to a limp.
"Rrraaagh—!"
A walker crawled out from a drainage ditch and lunged at them.
Hanks reacted instantly—his quick-draw training kicking in.
In 1.5 seconds, he had drawn, disengaged the safety, and fired.
BANG!
The bullet punched through the walker's brow. It collapsed lifelessly.
"Stay with me, Lee!" Hanks rushed to support him. Clementine took Lee's other arm, worry written across her small face.
Just then—a distant engine growled.
A pickup truck approached, slowing down as it spotted them.
"Hey! Y'all need some help?!"
A young man in work overalls and a baseball cap leaned out the window, parking where pavement met dirt.
"I'm a Georgia police officer," Hanks called out, still scanning the area. "We just escaped. Can you give us a lift?"
The driver—Shawn—took in the scene:
Lee's bleeding leg, Clementine's terrified expression, and Hanks' uniform and firearm. He hesitated.
"Please…" Clementine's voice cracked with tears. "Mister Lee is hurt… We need help…"
Perhaps it was the child's plea that broke him.
Shawn nodded. "Hop in! Name's Shawn. My family's got a farm. My dad's a vet—he can patch you up."
Hanks thanked him, helping Clementine climb into the backseat. Lee struggled in after her.
Hanks vaulted into the truck bed and reloaded—slotting fresh shells into the tube.
The earlier firefight had burned through half his 12-gauge ammo. Only nine shells remained.
Once everyone was in, Shawn reversed, turning the truck around—
—but the right rear tire suddenly sank into a soft patch between concrete and mud. Recent rain had softened the ground.
"Aw, hell! We're stuck!" Shawn cursed, slamming the gas. The tire spun uselessly, spraying mud but refusing to budge.
Worse—
the gunshots and the revving engine had drawn nearby walkers.
They emerged from the treeline on both sides, drawn to the noise, closing in.
"Lee, out and push! Clementine stays inside—watch our surroundings!" Hanks ordered without hesitation.
Shawn jumped out too. The three men braced themselves against the truck and pushed with everything they had.
Sweat and mud smeared across their bodies as the walkers' snarls drew nearer.
"One! Two! Three! PUSH!" Hanks shouted.
But the wheels spun in place—stubbornly stuck.
A walker had used the wreckage as cover and crept up unnoticed—then suddenly lunged straight at Shawn!
"Look out!"
Hanks didn't have time to reach him. He released the truck, pivoted, and raised his pistol.
BANG!
The walker dropped—but not before its jagged nails raked across Shawn's arm.
"Ahh!" Shawn cried out, flinging the corpse away, but it was too late.
Four deep gashes tore through his forearm—bone faintly visible beneath. Blood seeped rapidly, staining his sleeve crimson.
"Shawn!" Clementine screamed from inside the truck, horror filling her eyes. For the first time, she hated being helpless.
If only… if only she had a gun…
Hanks' stomach tightened—but he noticed something important: it was only a scratch, not a bite.
There was still hope.
"Push! Keep pushing!" he ordered, burying the fear in his voice and forcing focus back to the truck.
Whether from adrenaline or sheer desperation, the three men heaved with renewed strength.
With a violent jolt, the tire finally tore free from the muddy rut.
"It's out!" Lee shouted.
"Get in—now!"
Hanks yanked the driver's door open. "I'm driving!"
Shawn clutched his bleeding arm, pale but conscious, and staggered into the passenger seat.
Hanks slid behind the wheel, and Lee climbed into the backseat once more.
The engine roared to life. Hanks floored it—the truck lurched forward, smashing through a few walkers in their path before speeding onto the open road.
They left the horde behind in a cloud of dust and exhaust fumes.
Hanks checked the rearview mirror. Shawn's complexion was worsening—paler by the second.
A knot of guilt twisted in Hanks' chest.
If Shawn hadn't stopped for them… he wouldn't be injured now.
"Stay with us, Shawn!" Hanks said urgently. "Tell us where to go!"
"Don't… let me fall asleep… My dad's waiting… at the farm…" Shawn forced out, breath shaky.
He pointed weakly down the road.
"Head… east… follow this road… you'll see a red barn… turn right… Tell my father, Hershel… I'm sorry…"
His voice thinned to a whisper.
"You'll tell him yourself," Hanks replied, voice firm and steady. He stepped harder on the gas.
The pickup shot down the highway, buying them a few precious minutes of safety.
Up ahead, the outline of a large farm sign slowly came into view.
But a few minutes later, Hanks' foot eased off the accelerator. The truck slowed… then rolled to a full stop on the road.
"…Dear God…"
Lee's breath hitched.
Clementine covered her mouth with both hands, eyes widening in shock.