Lee stood frozen for a long moment, the hoodie hanging heavy in his grip like it carried more than just fabric weight.
"...Did they mention seeing anyone near the supplies?" Lee asked Katjaa, who shook her head. "Alright...thanks for this. She'll love it."
Katjaa noted his strange tension but turned back to Maybelle, letting it pass.
Lee approached Clementine, who was still watching Duck poke at the salt lick. "Hey, Clem. Got something else for you." He held out the hoodie. "It's your size - good for when the nights get colder."
"Is this from that car?" Clementine asked softly, barely above a whisper.
Lee's eyebrows lifted. "You knew about that? Yeah, it is."
"It's not mine..." Clementine's gaze dropped to the dirt, her small fingers twisting together.
Lee felt the familiar pang - her moral compass shining bright even now. Part of him agreed; if they hadn't taken these things, maybe the Stranger wouldn't pursue them. But what's done is done. "You're right, Clem. But think of it like this - we're just keeping it safe for now. If we ever find the owners, you can return it yourself. Deal?"
Her nose scrunched in that way it did when she was working through a tough thought. "...I guess so," she finally conceded, taking the hoodie with careful hands.
Lee managed a half-smile before stepping out of the barn. He spotted Kenny hauling boxes and moved to help—though with his shoulder still throbbing, he wasn't sure how useful he'd be.
"Oh, hey, pal!" Kenny grinned, hefting a crate of canned goods onto the porch. "Knew you'd bounce back. How's the shoulder holdin' up?"
"Seen better days," Lee admitted, eyeing the car where Kenny had gotten the supplies. The Stranger's car. "Just glad Katjaa could dig the bullet out."
"Yeah, she's a damn miracle worker." Kenny wiped his brow and headed back to the vehicle. Lee followed, grabbing a box with his good arm.
"Clem mentioned you found all this just sittin' out there," Lee said carefully. "Anyone around when you took it?"
Kenny clicked his tongue. "Hell of a stroke of luck, right? Me and Lilly argued about it—she was dead set against touchin' the stuff. So we left it. But when we swung back later and it was still there?" He shrugged. "Couldn't say no. Funny, huh? Lilly's always preachin' 'group first,' then suddenly she gets cold feet."
"Maybe she was worried it belonged to someone," Lee countered, shooting Kenny a sidelong glance. "Not exactly normal to find this much gear just lying around."
Kenny snorted, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Hell, that's exactly what she said. But think about it - only two kinds of people leave supplies like this unattended: the dead and the damn stupid." He hefted another box with a grunt. "If we hadn't taken it, the next group would've. That's just how it is now."
Lee's jaw worked silently. However much it sat wrong with him, he couldn't argue with Kenny's survival math. Even he would have done the same if he didn't know the consequences. The world didn't leave room for maybes anymore.
"That's the last of them," Lee said, dropping the final box with a thud. He wiped his hands on his jeans before turning to Kenny. "Now that the RV's running, we should talk about hitting the road again."
Kenny's shoulders stiffened like he'd not been expecting this. "Lee, come on. That was before, but now the situation has changed. This farm? It's everything we need. Duck and Katjaa..." His voice softened. "Haven't seen 'em this happy since the world went to hell."
Lee cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "I'm just saying we should prep the RV - move some supplies over. As a precaution."
Kenny's eyes narrowed until understanding dawned. "The bandits." He spat the word like a bad taste. "We fought for this place. You took a goddamn bullet. And now you wanna tuck tail and run?"
"Not running," Lee fired back, voice low and steady. "Being smart. We don't know their numbers, their firepower. I want to protect this place too, but having a plan B isn't cowardice - it's survival."
For a long moment, Kenny just stared. Then he grabbed a crate and marched it toward the RV. "Fine. But mark my words - ten, twenty, thirty of 'em come knocking?" He patted his rifle. "I got a welcome present for each and every one."
Lee rolled his eyes but said no more.
For the next few hours, an uncharacteristic calm settled over the group—the closest thing to peace they'd known in months. Their newest member, David, proved his worth by whipping up a hearty vegetable soup, served with fresh-baked bread. They'd found meat in the house too, but no one dared risk it. Over the meal, the bandits came up again. Larry and Lilly resisted at first, but after some debate, even they agreed: the RV would stay prepped as their emergency exit.
After eating, the group ran through Lilly's mandatory combat drills—mostly firearms training, with every adult participating. Later, Lee stole Clementine away for their now-routine private lesson—something they'd kept up since making the agreement months ago. She lined up shots on empty cans with the pistol, her brow furrowed and eyes sharp with concentration. When Lee gently cupped her ears to block the noise, he noticed hair brushing her shoulders again—long enough now to tuck behind her ears.
"Carley's doing it this time," Clem said, catching his glance. Last time he'd tried to trim it, she'd ended up with bangs lopsided enough to make Duck snort milk out his nose.
"What? Was mine not good enough?" Lee teased, rubbing his sore shoulder as Clementine gave him a hollow side-eye. She'd hit most of her targets - ragged holes peppering the empty cans.
He ruffled her cap, pride warming his chest. "Damn, sweet pea. You're turning into a regular Annie Oakley."
Clementine gave a sweet smile as she puffed out her chest, the afternoon sun catching the dust on her pink hoodie. But Lee's expression sobered as he knelt to her level, the movement making his wound pulse.
"Clem," he waited until her eyes locked onto his, "promise me something. If anyone tries talking to you on that walkie - anyone at all - you tell me right away. No exceptions."
Her nose scrunched. "Like... Kenny or Carley?"
"No." Lee's voice came out harsher than he intended. He softened it. "Just strangers. People we don't know."
She fiddled with the walkie's antenna. "Okay... but why?"
Lee forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Think of it like checking for walkers under cars. Just... another precaution."
Satisfied that Clementine understood, Lee watched her sprint back toward the barn, her pink hoodie flapping behind her like a banner. It warmed him to see her adapting - this place had become somewhere she could be a kid without worrying.
Lee went inside the farmhouse, dry-swallowed two painkillers before chasing them with a gulp of tepid water. The constant ache in his shoulder dulled to a bearable thrum within minutes.
"There you are."
Carley's voice startled him. She leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "Been avoiding me all day, or is that just my imagination?"
"Must've been some other handsome guy," Lee quipped, earning an eye-roll that couldn't hide her amusement. He sobered as she stepped closer. "You said you wanted to talk."
Carley exhaled sharply and moved to the counter, tilting her face out the window towards the cloudless sky. "With those bandits out there... we could be dead tomorrow." She turned, meeting his gaze squarely. "I meant what I said. About liking you."
Lee's pulse jumped traitorously. "Carley, I..." He ran a hand over his scalp. "I feel the same. But—"
Her hopeful expression fractured. "But?" The word landed like a stone. "What possible 'but' could matter when the world's ending, Lee?"
Lee's hand instinctively rose to rub at the ache in his chest, it was a deep heaviness tightening around his heart. The words stuck in his throat like broken glass.
"It's not that I don't want to," he finally said, voice rough. "But Clementine... she has to come first. Always." His jaw worked silently for a moment before the real fear spilled out: "I couldn't stand making you feel... secondary. Like you're settling for scraps of whatever attention I have left."
Carley's expression softened. She stepped closer, her boots scuffing against the wooden floorboards. "Oh, Lee..." Her calloused palm came to rest over his racing heart. "I'd never ask you to choose. That girl needs you more than I ever could." A wry smile touched her lips. "Hell, maybe we could be... whatever this mess of a world lets us be. You're like her father now. Maybe I could be—"
"—they're dead."
The words dropped between them like stones. Carley's hand stilled.
Lee couldn't meet her eyes. "There was a voicemail on her landline when I found her... Her parents weren't coming home." The memory of Clementine's hopeful face when she'd last asked about them made his throat tighten. "She doesn't know yet."
Carley's fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, not to restrain but to steady them both. "She deserves to know," she murmured, her breath warm against his jaw.
Lee exhaled sharply. "I know." His mind conjured Clementine's face—how her eyes would dim when the truth shattered her last hope. "But not yet. That's why I promised Savannah. She needs... something to hold onto first."
His hand found Carley's, pressing it flat against his pounding heart. When their eyes met, the words came easier: "If you're willing to walk that road with us—to be there when the dust settles—then yes. I want this."
Carley's smile bloomed like sunrise after a storm. "Then let's do it."
The kiss caught him mid-breath. Her lips were chapped from the Georgia heat, her grip fierce where she clutched his shoulders. Lee's hands found their way around her waist, pulling her flush against him. For the first time since the world ended, something fit—her heartbeat syncing with his, the salt-taste of her skin, the way her sigh melted into him.
Right. This felt right.
WHISTLE!
The sharp sound shattered the moment like a gunshot. Lee and Carley sprang apart to find Kenny grinning like a Cheshire cat, his fingers still pressed to his lips. Behind him, Katjaa shook her head in amusement while the kids peered around them with varying degrees of curiosity and confusion.
"Well ain't this a Hallmark moment," Kenny drawled, crossing his arms. "Y'all need me to close the door?" Katjaa swatted his shoulder, but her own smile betrayed her.
"Ken!" she scolded, though her eyes sparkled with mirth. "Leave them be."
Lee's face burned, but his arm stayed firmly around Carley's waist - a silent declaration. Clementine's gaze flickered between them, her small smile hesitant but warm beneath the brim of her cap. That shy approval, more than anything, made the embarrassment worth it.
"Oh please," Carley shot back, jerking her thumb toward the ceiling with a smirk. "There's a perfectly good bedroom up there."
Kenny's booming laugh echoed across the house while Katjaa immediately clapped her hands over Duck's ears - too late.
"Daddy, what's funny?" Duck tugged at Kenny's sleeve. "Why's everyone acting weird?"
Katjaa's face flushed crimson. "No reason, sweetheart! Let's go check on the, uh... the cow!" She began herding the children away with desperate urgency.
Lee finally released Carley's waist, shaking his head with amused disbelief. "Damn, Carley. You really don't pull punches."
Carley bit her lower lip, the earlier confidence melting into something softer. "What can I say?" She bumped his good shoulder playfully. "Apocalypse makes you bold."
For three golden days, the farm became something none of them dared name aloud—a home.
Lee and Carley stole quiet moments between watch shifts, their hands lingering when passing supplies, their shoulders brushing as they worked. Clementine, too, had begun to warm to Carley, seeking her out more for small things—help braiding her hair, showing off a drawing she'd made—little gestures that meant more than words.
They spent their days fortifying the farm, turning it into something resembling a stronghold. Lee rewired the fences, the hum of electricity now a constant, warning buzz. Piles of scrap wood and rusted farm equipment became makeshift barricades, while shallow trenches and tripwires dotted the perimeter. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to make them feel—just for a moment—like they might actually stand a chance.
Then, on the fourth morning, the illusion shattered.
The first gunshot cracked through the dawn like a whip.