CHAPTER 17: THE SUPPLY RUN DILEMMA
POV: Glenn Rhee
Glenn spreads the hand-drawn map across the RV's table, marking locations with careful precision. The pharmacy sits three miles northeast—close enough for a day run, far enough to avoid most walker patrols they've encountered.
"Medical supplies are critical," Glenn explains to the gathered group. "Antibiotics, painkillers, insulin. We're down to basics after treating everyone from the last attack."
Scott nods from beside him. "The pharmacy's in a strip mall, isolated from main roads. Should be relatively clear."
"Should be," Shane cuts in sharply. "Or it could be a death trap."
POV: Shane Walsh
Shane studies the map with growing irritation. Another one of Scott's "perfect" suggestions, another opportunity for the EMT to play hero while Shane gets sidelined.
"There's a National Guard depot fifteen miles south," Shane argues. "Real supplies. Weapons, vehicles, military-grade equipment. That's what we need."
"Glenn scouted that area last week," Rick interjects. "Said it was overrun."
Shane's jaw clenches. "So we're gonna trust the word of—"
"Of our most experienced scavenger?" Scott asks mildly. "Yeah, I think we should."
The casual dismissal hits Shane like a slap. Three months he's kept these people alive, made the hard calls, sacrificed for their safety. And this EMT with his convenient luck thinks he can just waltz in and take over.
POV: Rick Grimes
Rick watches the tension escalate between Shane and Scott, noting the barely controlled anger in his partner's voice. The pharmacy run makes tactical sense—lower risk, specific objectives, manageable distance.
But Shane's opposition runs deeper than strategic disagreement. It's personal now, competitive in a way that threatens group cohesion.
"The depot's too dangerous," Rick decides. "Twenty walkers minimum, based on Glenn's report. The pharmacy's achievable."
Shane's face darkens. "You're making decisions based on fear."
"I'm making decisions based on intelligence," Rick counters. "There's a difference."
POV: Daryl Dixon
Daryl spits into the dirt and cuts through the political bullshit with characteristic directness. "I'll go with Scott and Glenn. Pharmacy makes sense. Y'all can argue leadership another time."
The statement draws sharp looks from both Rick and Shane, but Daryl doesn't care. He's seen Scott in action, trusts the man's instincts. More importantly, he's seen Shane's increasing instability and doesn't want the volatile cop anywhere near a delicate operation.
"Good," Scott says simply. "T-Dog, you want to make it four?"
T-Dog nods agreement, and the matter settles with military efficiency. Shane's expression promises future confrontation, but for now, the mission's set.
POV: Andrea
Andrea catches Scott's arm as the meeting disperses, concern tight in her chest. "Shane's looking for a fight."
"I know."
"Be careful out there. Not just with walkers."
Scott's smile is grim. "Shane won't try anything with Daryl watching. And T-Dog's solid backup."
Andrea wants to argue, to insist Scott stay safe at camp instead of walking into danger. But she's learning that keeping Scott safe means trusting his judgment, even when it terrifies her.
"Bring back something good," she says instead, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek.
"Always do."
POV: Scott
Two hours later, the four-man team moves through suburban decay with practiced silence. Scott's System maps walker positions in real-time, guiding them through optimal paths while maintaining the appearance of natural caution.
[WALKER SIGNATURES: 12 DETECTED]
[OPTIMAL ROUTE: HIGHLIGHTED]
[THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE]
The pharmacy sits exactly where Glenn remembered—windows intact, doors secure, minimal signs of looting. Scott's Keen Eye ability immediately highlights the building's hidden potential.
[HIDDEN CACHE DETECTED: REAR OFFICE]
[MEDICAL SUPPLIES: SUBSTANTIAL]
[CONTROLLED SUBSTANCES: PRESENT]
"Jackpot. But I need to make the discovery seem natural."
POV: T-Dog
T-Dog keeps watch while the others approach the pharmacy's rear entrance. The suburban street feels wrong—too quiet, too empty. Like the calm before a storm.
"Movement," he whispers, spotting shambling figures three blocks down. "Six walkers, heading this way slowly."
"Time to work," Daryl murmurs, shouldering his crossbow.
The entry goes smooth. Glenn picks the lock with professional efficiency while Scott checks for structural weaknesses. No alarms, no surprises, just the medicinal smell of abandoned healthcare.
POV: Glenn Rhee
Inside the pharmacy, Glenn marvels at Scott's systematic approach to scavenging. The EMT moves through aisles with purposeful efficiency, checking obvious locations first before moving to less likely spots.
"Behind the prescription counter," Scott suggests. "Pharmacists hide the good stuff."
Glenn follows the suggestion and immediately finds locked cabinets full of antibiotics and pain medication. "How'd you know?"
"EMT training. We work with pharmacists all the time, learn their security protocols."
The explanation makes sense, but Glenn files away another example of Scott's uncanny knowledge. The man's "luck" follows patterns that feel less random each time.
POV: Daryl Dixon
Daryl drops two walkers with silent crossbow bolts as they shamble through the front entrance, drawn by some sound or scent. The kills are clean, professional—bolt through the eye, instant death.
"We got company," he calls softly. "More coming."
Through the windows, he can see additional walkers converging on their position. Not a horde, but enough to complicate extraction.
"Found it," Scott announces from the back office. "Hidden safe behind a fake wall panel."
POV: Scott
Scott uses his enhanced strength to pry open the safe, careful to make it look like leverage and determination rather than superhuman force. Inside: opioids, insulin, antibiotics, and a surprising cache of military stimulants.
"Jackpot," T-Dog breathes. "This is pharmaceutical gold."
"Doc probably stashed the good stuff when things went bad," Daryl observes. "Smart thinking."
Scott loads the supplies into his pack, noting Glenn's thoughtful stare. His friend's putting pieces together, seeing patterns in Scott's "intuitive" discoveries.
POV: Glenn Rhee
The extraction becomes a running fight through suburban streets, walkers emerging from houses and alleys like a coordinated ambush. But Scott seems to anticipate each threat, calling out warnings seconds before dangers appear.
"Left side, behind the car!"
"Doorway, two of them!"
"Rooftop walker about to fall!"
Each warning proves accurate, each tactical suggestion optimal. Glenn's seen good scavengers work, but this level of awareness borders on supernatural.
"How does he know? It's like he can see through walls."
POV: T-Dog
T-Dog fights with crowbar efficiency, dropping walkers while following Scott's tactical guidance. The EMT coordinates their movement like he's reading from a tactical manual, positioning each man for maximum effectiveness.
"You're like a bloodhound for useful shit," T-Dog pants between kills. "Man's got supernatural luck."
It's meant as a joke, but Glenn's expression suggests he's taking the observation seriously.
POV: Scott
They return to camp triumphant, medical supplies earning immediate gratitude from the group. Dale embraces Scott warmly, Lori thanks them for insulin needed by one of the elderly survivors, and even Carl helps organize the pharmaceutical haul.
But Shane's expression promises storms ahead.
POV: Carol Peletier
Carol sorts through medical supplies with hands that shake slightly from excitement. Real antibiotics, pain medication, insulin for Mrs. Fletcher. This changes everything—transforms them from desperate survivors to a group with genuine medical capability.
"You saved lives today," she tells Scott quietly. "More than you probably realize."
Scott's smile is tired but genuine. "Just doing what needs doing."
But Carol notices Shane watching from across camp, his face dark with something that looks dangerously like hatred.
POV: Shane Walsh
That night, Shane corners Rick away from the main fire, anger burning in his chest like acid. "Scott's too smart, too lucky. Something's not right about him."
"He brought back supplies that'll keep us alive," Rick argues. "Medical supplies we desperately needed."
"How'd he know exactly where to look? How's he always in the right place at the right time? It's not natural."
Rick's expression grows warning-sharp. "You're talking paranoid nonsense."
"Am I?" Shane demands. "Think about it, Rick. Everything goes perfect when Scott's involved. Every plan works, every guess pays off. Either he's the luckiest man alive, or there's something else going on."
POV: Rick Grimes
Rick studies his partner's face in the firelight, seeing the cracks in Shane's psyche spreading wider with each passing day. The pharmacy mission's success should be celebrated, but Shane can only see it as another threat to his authority.
"Scott's a good man," Rick says firmly. "He's saved lives, improved our security, earned everyone's respect through actions. You need to let this go."
Shane's laugh is bitter. "Everyone's respect except mine, you mean."
"Shane—"
"Forget it." Shane turns away, dismissing the conversation with angry finality. "Just remember what I said when this all comes crashing down."
POV: Andrea
Andrea finds Scott sitting alone on the RV's steps, staring into the darkness beyond their perimeter. She settles beside him, noting the tension in his shoulders.
"Shane's spiraling," she observes quietly. "Rick sees it too. Just... be careful."
Scott nods, his expression troubled. "I don't want to be his enemy. But I won't apologize for helping people."
"You shouldn't have to." Andrea takes his hand, squeezing gently. "Shane's fighting battles that exist only in his head. That's not your fault."
POV: Dale Horvath
Dale observes the camp's dynamics from his watch position, noting the fractures spreading through their small community. Shane's isolation, Scott's growing influence, Rick's attempts to mediate between competing loyalties.
"Some conflicts can't be prevented, only managed. The question is whether we can hold together long enough to find stability."
In Dale's experience, communities either grew stronger through crisis or shattered completely. Their group stands at that crossroads now, and the next few weeks will determine which direction they take.
POV: Scott
Late that night, Scott lies in his tent reviewing the day's events through his System interface. The medical supplies represent a major victory, but Shane's hostility continues escalating toward inevitable confrontation.
[SHANE WALSH: PSYCHOLOGICAL INSTABILITY - STAGE 4/5]
[WARNING: BREAKDOWN IMMINENT]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: MAINTAIN DISTANCE, PREPARE DEFENSES]
"I've changed events, saved lives, built relationships. But I can't seem to prevent Shane's spiral. Maybe some things are written in human nature rather than plot."
Outside, an owl hoots in the darkness, and Scott remembers the show's trajectory. Shane's breakdown led to death, exile, the farm's discovery, and ultimately Hershel's family. Each event connected to the next like falling dominoes.
But this time, Scott's here to catch them before they fall. The question is whether one man with impossible knowledge can overcome the weight of destiny itself.
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