Chapter 8: Maggie
"These are the priorities—antibiotics, fever reducers, sedatives, saline, and clean sutures and scalpel blades."
Hershel handed the note to Hanks. His hand trembled slightly—far less steady than the calm mask on his face.
Hanks took the list and slipped it straight into his tactical pocket without even glancing at it.
"Please look after Lee and Clementine while I'm gone."
Maggie suddenly stepped forward, gaze firm as she looked between her father and Hanks.
"I'm going with you."
"Maggie! Sis!"
Hershel and Beth reacted at the same time, equally alarmed.
"Dad—Shawn is my brother." Maggie's tone was unwavering.
"And Officer Hanks doesn't know the area. I know the town better than anyone here."
"I can help him find the supplies faster—and cover him if needed. Two people are safer than one."
Hanks studied Maggie for a long second.
Despite the fear she tried to hide, her expression held a determination far beyond her age.
A guide familiar with the terrain and basic medicine would greatly increase their chances.
"…Alright." Hanks nodded. No time for debate.
"But once we're out there, you follow my lead. No acting alone. Understood?"
"I understand."
Maggie inhaled deeply, then hurried to her room, pulling on a thick jacket and grabbing a small revolver before returning.
"Hershel," Hanks said, rising to his feet as he slid a final magazine into his pouch, "I swear—I'll bring Maggie back alive, even if it costs me my life."
I won't let you lose your son… and then your daughter too.
…or your future son-in-law, possibly.
The intrusive thought flashed through Hanks' mind, but he shook it off and turned to Lee and Clementine instead.
"Lee—watch over Clem."
Lee nodded with a seriousness that matched his words.
"You have my word, officer. Unless I drop dead, no one's getting near them."
Clementine clung to Hanks' leg again. This time, she didn't try to stop him—she simply held on.
Hanks gently straightened her cap before looking to Maggie.
"Ready?"
Maggie nodded firmly and took the keys to the second pickup truck from her father.
"Let's move."
No more hesitation.
They pushed open the farmhouse door and drove off into the night.
Hershel moved to the window, watching his daughter and the young officer disappear down the dirt road.
Beth leaned against his shoulder, eyes full of worry.
The pickup's engine hummed through the quiet night, headlights slicing the darkness.
Hanks gripped the wheel, scanning both sides of the road with sharpened focus.
Maggie sat in the passenger seat, both hands clenched around her small revolver—knuckles white.
She watched the blur of trees and fields race past, giving directions as they went.
"Turn left at the crossroads up ahead. We're close now," she said, tension lining her voice.
"Main Street is usually quiet… but now, who knows—"
She hadn't even finished the sentence when the truck rounded the corner—
and Hanks slammed the brakes.
In the middle of the street, several crashed and abandoned cars formed a messy barricade.
Worse—a dozen walkers wandered between them.
The moment they heard the engine, they all snapped their heads toward the truck.
Their milky eyes glinted eerily under the headlights.
"Raaaghh!"
The night shattered with their screams as the horde surged toward the pickup like sharks scenting blood.
"Reverse! Hey, reverse!" Maggie gasped.
"No time! Hold on!"
Instead of backing up, Hanks spun the wheel hard—and hit the accelerator.
The pickup roared as Hanks swerved onto the sidewalk, smashing through an abandoned newsstand.
The truck lurched violently, scraping past the edge of the horde and forcing its way out through the flank. Metal screeched horribly against metal.
[Special Driving EXP +1000]
"There—right side alley!" Maggie pointed to a narrow passageway ahead.
Hanks didn't hesitate. He jerked the wheel, forcing the truck into the tight alley.
The side mirrors nearly scraped the brick walls, sparking as metal kissed concrete.
At last, they lost the walkers from Main Street. Both of them exhaled in relief.
Hanks killed the engine and rolled the truck behind a dumpster where it was better concealed.
"The pharmacy's up by the next intersection, but we can't drive there. The noise will draw every walker nearby."
Maggie's voice shook slightly with nerves. She pointed toward the alley's exit.
"See that red neon sign? It's burned out, but that's Middleton Pharmacy."
Hanks followed her gaze.
About a hundred meters away, a two-story building stood at the corner.
A metal shutter was pulled down, but a glass side door looked intact.
"We go on foot. Stealth only."
Hanks drew his pistol and checked his ammo.
"Stay behind me. Don't fire unless I signal. Understood?"
Maggie swallowed hard and nodded.
They slipped silently from the truck and kept close to the building shadows as they advanced.
The air was thick with the stench of garbage, decay, and something far fouler.
Occasional distant growls and shattering glass kept their nerves stretched tight as bowstrings.
Soon, they reached the glass door of the pharmacy.
Hanks motioned for Maggie to watch their rear while he handled entry.
He pulled out his collapsible baton, inhaled once—then kicked the door open.
CRASH!
The door slammed into the inner wall. Inside was a storage room cluttered with cardboard boxes.
Dim light filtered in through a crack in the door leading to the main store.
The moment the door burst open, a walker in a pharmacist's white coat lunged from the shadows.
Hanks had anticipated it. His baton blurred as it struck, breaking bone and flesh with ruthless precision.
The corpse dropped before it even hit the ground.
"Move! Stick to the list!" Hanks hissed.
Maggie snapped out of the shock. She sprinted toward the shelves deeper inside.
"Antibiotics are in the fridge—fever meds and saline on the back aisle!" She shifted into full focus, navigating the pharmacy with practiced familiarity.
Hanks swept the room with his baton, checking behind shelves, under counters, anywhere a walker could be hiding.
The fridge door was cracked and frost-webbed. Maggie carefully pulled it open and stuffed several sealed packs of antibiotics into her bag.
She grabbed a canvas tote from the side drawer and tossed in fever reducers, saline packs, sutures, and extra supplies for treating gunshot wounds—just in case.
Hanks held position by the entrance, eyes darting between the aisles for movement—when a metal case behind the counter caught his eye.
He moved quickly, flipped it open—
Inside lay a brand-new Beretta 92, two boxes of 9mm rounds, and two matching magazines.
"Jackpot."
He tucked the pistol into the back of his belt and slid the ammo into his pack.
They were about to leave when—
BANG!
The front glass door was kicked open.
"Don't move!"
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