In a desperate sprint, a young boy, his appearance marred by streaks of soot across his clothes and skin, glanced back in terror at the consuming inferno within his home. His voice, barely a whisper, conveyed disbelief and despair, "M-Mom... Dad..."
Around him, the world he knew disintegrated under the relentless assault of the flames. Picture frames that once lined the walls, the remnants of family memories, doors, and dishes succumbed to the scorching heat, warping and melting into unrecognizable forms. The tangible evidence of his parents' lives, their struggles, and achievements were mercilessly devoured by the blaze.
In a tragic irony, the young boy, who once believed in the possibility of a return to normalcy, found his hope being incinerated by the very world he trusted. As he dashed forward, a fallen wooden beam ensnared his foot, sending him sprawling across the floor, the heat intensifying around him, mimicking the ferocity of hell itself.
Struggling to rise, the boy's gaze shot upwards as the ceiling, weakened by the flames above, collapsed, obliterating any hope of escape through the front door. Panic-stricken, he turned towards the long hallway he had come from, only to see silhouettes of "monsters" materializing through the fiery haze, their approach as inevitable as the spreading fire.
Fear, raw and consuming, took hold, but he still managed to free himself from the beam as he retreated, his eyes welling with tears and his young mind grappling with a terrifying realization: he might share his parents' fate. Overwhelmed by despair, his cries for help dissolved into incoherent murmurs, drowned out by the roar of the fire.
Cornered, with the flames drawing nearer and the monstrous figures advancing, he slumped into a corner yet untouched by the fire. Drawing his knees to his chest and burying his head in his arms, the boy succumbed to his tears, whispering pleas for salvation, enveloped by the crackling symphony of the fire that seemed to sing a mournful dirge for the dying remnants of his childhood.
.
.
.
Earlier that day, Sienna was fretting. "Clifford, we've been through this. No wandering off. It's too easy to get lost!" She walked over to her husband, who was busy unpacking his duffel bag.
Clifford, kneeling, sorted through the contents of his bag. "I know, but we've picked this place clean. We need to find new grounds," he said, laying out canned food, medicine, bottled water, and some items that raised eyebrows.
Pointing to the spread, Clifford added, "See? I need to check that spot again this weekend."
Sienna shook her head. "What about the other scavengers we ran into? They were not friendly."
Clifford lifted his jacket with a half-smile to reveal a semi-automatic pistol tucked in his waistband. "I got this little guy too, Sienna. We'll make it through," he reassured, taking her hands in his, a promise in his eyes.
Suddenly, the room echoed with a cheerful shout, "HIYA! Super Hero to the rescue!"
A blur of movement followed as their son charged into the room, his voice high and excited. The nine-year-old was a sight in his Spider-Man shirt, flashing sneakers, and a tattered mask of his favorite hero, pretending to punch Clifford's leg with the intensity of a mini-crusader.
Clifford laughed, glancing at Sienna. "Well, he's got your energy like a mini tornado." Sienna rolled her eyes while their undeterred son ramped up his playful assault.
"My super security secret alarm systems are going off... You're a monster! Begone, monster!" the boy declared with mock seriousness. Unable to resist, Clifford scooped and tickled him until the boy's infectious laughter filled the room.
After a playful spin, Clifford tossed him gently onto a bean bag, eliciting a surprised grunt from the little superhero.
"Got secret alarms now, huh? What have you been up to while I've been out?" Clifford teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement. Sienna smiled and gestured towards the stairs, signaling it was time for the next act of their daily routine.
"Y/N, time to wash up for dinner!" she called out. The boy, known as Y/N, scrambled up from the bean bag, his energy undiminished, and headed upstairs.
Ditching his Spider-Man mask in his room, he flicked on the bathroom light and studied his reflection. His eyes, a vivid echo of Sienna's, shimmered, their color shifting with the light. His skin tone and hair blended with his parents' features, presenting a harmonious mix of heritage and youth.
After a brief struggle with the faucet, water finally cascaded down, allowing him to start his washing routine, humming a tuneless melody as he lathered his hands with soap.
Outside their home, a crisis raged. The world was in the throes of an outbreak, turning lives upside down and spawning creatures they only referred to as "monsters." These beings, once human, were now something to fear, especially since a single bite spelled doom.
After washing his hands and drying them with a towel, Y/N headed back downstairs. The table was set in the kitchen, and his plate awaited among the familiar, comforting sights of family dinner.
Dinner was ready, steaming on the table.
"Salmon and rice... Again?" Y/N couldn't hide his disappointment. Sitting busy attacking his meal, Clifford glanced up while Sienna prepared to soothe their son's culinary fatigue.
"It's an odd mix, I admit," Sienna acknowledged, guiding Y/N to his seat, "but it's what we've got right now, honey." Her gentle nudge got him started on his meal.
Being a kid during the outbreak meant Y/N had become less picky about food. With limited choices, he learned to appreciate whatever was on his plate, knowing it was fuel for survival.
Dinner concluded in silence, and soon, Sienna headed out to check on the garden, Clifford to secure the perimeter, leaving Y/N to his own devices indoors.
With a toy airplane in hand, he sent it soaring through the house, its flight occasionally interrupted by furniture and walls. The plane eventually found its way outside, crashing against a propane tank hidden in the cellar, a necessary precaution to avoid attracting unwanted, undead attention.
Curious, Y/N ventured down, his ears picking up a faint hissing sound. "Could it be a snake?" he wondered aloud, his imagination piqued.
Before he could investigate further, Sienna's sharp and urgent voice cut through the air. "Y/N! M/N! L/N! Step away from the cellar now! And come help me in the garden!"
Startled by the full-name call, Y/N dashed back up with a toy plane in hand, showing it to his mother as proof of his innocent intent. "Just fetching my plane, Ma," he explained, dropping the toy on the grass, its adventure cut short as he hurried to assist with the chores.
That snake would have to wait another day or, thankfully, never be encountered.
.
.
.
Back in the present, the roar of the fire and the groans of the undead echo louder in the hallway, mirroring the rise of Y/N's sobs. Memories of his mother's soothing song and his father's encouraging words flicker through his mind, starkly contrasting the horror around him.
He had witnessed the unthinkable: his parents succumbing to the flames. The desire to erase these images battled with his mother's final, comforting assurance that he would be okay.
That reassurance ignited something within him, a spark of determination.
"Heroes don't cry!" he reminded himself, a mantra forming in his thoughts.
With newfound resolve, he sprang to his feet and raced to the back door, bursting into the yard where the beginnings of his mother's garden lay under a dusting of ash.
The sight of the young, unripe crops reminded him of his mother's recent start on them – they were as unfinished as his childhood now seemed.
Hesitation gripped him for a moment. Could he just run, leaving behind everything and everyone he loved?
.
.
.
You jolt awake to Clementine shaking your shoulder, her urgency cutting through the haze of a brief nap. You had been leaning against a tree, catching a few moments of rest. Your eyes meet hers, and without a word, you understand it's time to move.
It's been five days since you all left the cabin behind. The journey has been grueling, a constant test of endurance and will.
Ahead, a bridge stretches across the landscape, a potential path or a new obstacle. Luke is engrossed in a map, his finger tracing possible routes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Nearby, Nick and Rebecca have claimed some rocks as makeshift seats, taking advantage of the pause to catch their breath.
Clementine, meanwhile, peers through binoculars, her gaze sweeping the area, alert for any hint of movement or danger.
Luke's voice cuts through the air, "See anything?"
Alvin, his patience wearing thin, adds, "She better see something. We've been walking for a whole week."
Carlos interjects, his concern noticeable, "We need to find some shelter."
As Alvin offers Rebecca some food, she protests, "But we're almost out. We should save it."
"No," Alvin insists gently, "you need to keep your strength up, baby."
Your attention shifts to the bridge in the distance. Clementine hands you the binoculars, and you take a closer look.
"There's the bridge," you remark, scanning the structure.
Luke peers over, asking, "Does it look passable?"
You nod, adjusting the focus. "Yeah, I think so."
"Good," Luke responds, relieved.
You then move your gaze to a small building near the bridge. "There's a little house by the bridge," you observe, returning the binoculars to Clementine.
Carlos inquires, "How big is it?"
Taking another look, Clementine answers, "It's pretty small."
Your curiosity piqued, and you watched as Clementine examined a lift mechanism. "There's a lift or something," she noted.
"A chair lift? Must be that ski resort," Luke deduces.
With a hint of longing, Clementine admits, "I've never been skiing."
"I have once," You add. "I don't like the cold."
Alvin chuckles, sharing a memory, "Bec and I went once."
Rebecca grimaces at the recollection, "It wasn't pretty."
Clementine then shifts her attention to a distant structure on the mountain. "There's a building up there," she mentions.
"What does it look like?" Luke asks, leaning in closer.
"It's big," Clementine confirms, her voice carrying a mix of hope and weariness.
"That might be a good spot to spend the night," Luke muses, considering the possibilities.
Clementine lowers the binoculars, and you all exchange glances, silently agreeing on the large building's potential as a haven for the night.
Carlos peers at the bridge, his voice firm. "We need to cross that bridge, no more delays."
Luke holds up a hand, caution in his eyes. "Easy there. We can't just barrel across. If we get spotted, there's no easy way out."
Impatient, Carlos counters, "We can't waste time going around the lake."
Luke, thoughtful, proposes a middle ground. "I know, but let's not rush into trouble. I'll scout ahead and make sure it's safe. How about I take Clem and Y/N with me? They're both quick and quiet."
Carlos frowns, "They're just kids, Luke."
Luke challenges the notion, "Just kids? They've proven themselves more than once. Clem sewed up her arm and with Y/N's scarred eye havin' self-right by her side. They're as ready as any of us."
You raise an eyebrow at Luke.
Alvin, looking on, nods. "Luke's got a point."
Clementine, standing firm, adds, "We can handle it." You nod alongside her, showing your readiness to face the challenge ahead.
Luke reassures the group, "It'll be okay. We'll signal if anything's wrong. Watch for a light on the other side."
Nick offers to join, "I can go too, you know."
But Luke shakes his head, "Stay with the group, Nick. We'll handle this."
Carlos sighs, "I don't like it."
With a wry smile, Luke quips, "When do you ever, Carlos?"
Nick insists, "If anything happens, I'll cover you."
With a plan set, Luke, you, and Clementine start toward the bridge, each step measured. As you navigate the potentially tricky crossing, your senses are heightened, and you are ready for what lies ahead.
Luke rubs the back of his neck, looking a bit sheepish. "Sorry about earlier. I really need your eyes on this, and right now, I wouldn't trust Nick to tie his own shoes. Folks are still jittery from the Carver mess."
You scratch your head, puzzled. "Been five days. Carver's still after us?"
Luke squints towards the horizon. " What's everyone chasing after in this world? Even the bad guys? What do you all think?"
You nod slowly, catching on, "Family. It's all about having folks you can trust."
"Yep," Luke confirms. "And 'bout Rebecca," he glances at Clementine, "best talk to her yourself. We've all got skeletons. Ain't right for me to go rattling someone else's."
Approaching the bridge, you see two walkers ambling about. Luke surveys the scene: "We can't just shoot 'em. It's too noisy. But it's just two."
Clementine sets down her backpack, pulling out her hammer, while you grip the small axe that you luckily found in the cabin before departing. "Let's handle them," you suggest, ready for the task.
"I like your style," Luke grins. He points, "I'll take the big one. Y/N, you and Clem team up on the other. No need for guns. We can do this quietly."
You and Clementine nod in agreement, moving in sync.
Luke charges at the enormous walker, machete in hand, with a determined slash aimed at its neck. Meanwhile, you and Clementine approach the other walker. She swings her hammer at its legs, knocking it off balance as you aim your axe at its head. With a coordinated effort, Clementine pulls the walker down while you deliver a decisive blow with your axe, embedding it deep into the creature's skull.
The walker falls, and you both struggle momentarily to free your weapons from its head. "A bit stuck here," Clementine grunts, tugging at her hammer.
"Just give it a good pull; it should pop right out," Luke calls over, watching as you wrench your axe free.
Clementine yanks hard, liberating the hammer with a squelch. "Been through this before, in a shed," she remarks, a hint of a grim smile on her face.
Luke pats you and Clementine on the back, his face showing relief and pride. "Nice work, you two."
As the three of you cross the bridge, two walkers shuffle towards you, with another creeping up from behind.
"Shit," Luke exclaims, moving to confront them. But disaster strikes as a plank under his feet gives way. His machete clatters to the ground, and he clings to a beam. One of the walkers tumbles into the gap and gets impaled.
"Clem! Y/N! I'm alright, just... stuck," Luke calls up, trying to maintain calm.
Clementine leans forward, reaching out to him, but she's short. "I can't get to you!"
"Don't worry about me," Luke reassures her, then sharpens his voice: "Behind you!"
As a walker nears Clementine, you're quick to act, rushing forward and using your axe to cut it down before it can reach her. Meanwhile, Clementine battles another walker, her hammer sticking in its jaw. She tugs it free, stumbling backward.
She loses her footing in the chaos and nearly plunges off the bridge. Reacting swiftly, you grab her arm, pulling her back to safety. As the walker lunges again, you step in and decapitate it with a swift strike of your axe, its body teetering before falling into the abyss below.
Breathing heavily, you both rush to Luke's aid. With a joint effort, you pull him up, saving him from a precarious fate.
"Thanks, both of you," Luke gasps, dusting himself off as you stand together.
As you, Clementine, and Luke continue across the bridge, a figure appears at the far end, standing watchful and alert.
Luke nudges both of you, whispering, "You see that guy?"
"Yeah," you and Clementine respond in unison.
Luke instructs quietly, "Stay cool. You two should do the talking."
"What? Why us?" you both exclaim, a bit startled.
"Because," Luke reasons with a half-smile, "he's less likely to start a shootout with kids. Just be cool, don't make any quick moves, and try not to annoy him. Maybe I should..."
You quip, nudging Clementine slightly, "Nah, let Clem talk. They wouldn't shoot a little girl, right?"
Clementine shoots you a glare, rolling her eyes, but stays silent, understanding the gravity of the situation.
"What should we even ask him?" Clementine whispers back, seeking guidance.
"Just ask for directions," Luke suggests as you approach cautiously.
The man, an Asian American in his mid-30s with black hair, eyes you curiously. "Well, who are you folks?" he asks, his tone cautious yet open.
Luke, playing it cool, responds, "Who's asking?"
"I am," the man states simply, a hint of authority in his voice.
Luke looks at you and Clementine, prompting you to step forward.
Taking the cue, Clementine says, "I'm Clementine, and this is Y/N and Luke."
Now, a few steps closer, the man sizes you up, a faint smirk crossing his lips. "Clementine, Y/N, and Luke, huh? You three don't look like assholes. Are you assholes? No offense, but you know how it is out here. This place is full of them."
You shake your head, "Uh... We're just people."
"Fair enough," he acknowledges, then probes a bit, "You folks headed north like everyone else?"
Luke reacts with curiosity, "Everyone else?"
The man elaborates, "Yeah, I see at least one group a day moving through. It's like a great migration of the dazed and confused."
Clementine takes the opportunity to ask, "Have you seen someone named Christa?"
He ponders for a moment, "Christa? Maybe, hard to say with so many passing through."
Hope flickers in your and Clementine's eyes, "Really?!" you both exclaim in unison.
"Well, a lot of people come through here. I can't be sure," he clarifies, then adds with a slight grin, "You three look pretty worn out. If you need food, I've got some canned stuff back in the station."
Luke, cautious but grateful, responds, "That's kind of you. What's the catch?"
"No catch," the man assures. "I've got plenty to share."
As you all relax slightly, Nick suddenly appears on the bridge, rifle aimed.
Luke, alarmed, shouts, "No, Nick! He's with us!"
The standoff escalates as Nick and the man aim at each other. You reach out, trying to intervene, but Luke pulls you back, forcing you and Clementine to duck.
A shot breaks the tense silence; the man is hit in his neck and falls from the bridge. Nick, bewildered, approaches, "Did I hit him? Where is he?!"
Luke, exasperated, scolds, "I told you not to shoot!"
"I thought you needed help," Nick defends, confused.
"He was going to help us," Clementine murmurs, her disappointment clear.
"How were I to know?" Nick retorts, still trying to understand what went wrong.
Luke shakes his head, "That shot will draw attention. We need to get off this bridge, now."
Regrouping with the others, who have reached the bridge's start, you all quickly move away, leaving behind the chaos and confusion of the encounter.
- Now, At The Station -
As they reach the station house at the end of the bridge, Rebecca slumps onto a rock, her frustration evident.
"Who the fuck was that back there?" she demands, looking at the group for answers.
Luke shakes his head, "I don't know."
Alvin, concerned, adds, "Looked like he had a gun on you."
Nick jumps in defensively, "That asshole drew on me first! He was gonna shoot."
Luke, skeptical, counters, "Was he now?"
"I'm telling you, he pulled first," Nick insists, adamant about his version of events.
Luke and Nick's argument heats up, with Clementine trying to defuse the situation, "Everybody, just calm down."
Alvin turns to Clementine, seeking her perspective, "What did you see, Clem? Was he going to shoot?"
Nick, feeling cornered, lashes out, "Fuck you, Luke. You've been riding my ass all week."
"Why do you think that is, Nick?" Luke retorts, pushing for Nick to reflect on his actions.
"Because you're an asshole?" Nick shoots back, his temper flaring.
Clementine, unsure, admits, "I don't know; it all happened so fast."
Carlos snaps at her uncertainty, "But you were right there..."
Y/N, unable to hold back, interjects, "She doesn't know, okay? Nick's just being a fucking dumbass! That guy was gonna help us!"
Clementine quickly pulls Y/N back, whispering, "Hey, quiet down," while Nick glares at them both.
Luke redirects the conversation: "Regardless, Nick, you could've hit one of us."
"Yeah, but I didn't," Nick argues, still defensive.
Luke starts to mention Pete, but Nick cuts him off, "Don't fucking talk about him."
Trying to grasp the situation, Carlos asks, "Was that guy with Carver?"
Luke hesitates, "I don't know... No, I don't think so. He just fell over."
"He fell off the bridge?" Alvin asks, incredulous.
Sensing the group's growing distress, Carlos decides, "We need to keep moving."
Rebecca, overwhelmed protests, "I can't right now. I need a minute."
"Fine," Carlos concedes, then turns to Luke, "Can we talk, just you and me?"
Luke and Carlos walk a short distance away to talk privately, leaving the rest of the group to simmer down and gather their thoughts.
Alvin turns to Clementine and Y/N, his voice tinged with worry. "Hey, Clem, Y/N, you two got anything to eat? Bec's really struggling here."
Trying to muster the strength, Rebecca responds, "Alvin, I told you, I'm fine."
After checking her supplies, Clementine sighs, "Sorry, I'm out."
Alvin's thoughts drift, "Wish we still had those juice boxes."
Sarah joins in, her voice soft, "Yeah, me too."
Clementine recalls the earlier conversation, "That man said he had food in the station."
Alvin's eyes light up with a glimmer of hope. "Would you mind checking it out? Maybe we could stay there tonight. It's a bit small, but..."
With a weak smile, Rebecca teases, "You could use a little downsizing."
Alvin retorts with a playful grin, "You're one to talk."
Clementine agrees, "Sure, we can check the station."
Alvin expresses his gratitude, "Thanks, you two."
Clementine and Y/N then head towards the station house to search for food, leaving the others behind.
In the meantime, Clementine approaches Rebecca, concern evident in her demeanor, "Rebecca, are you okay?"
Reaching back against a rock, Rebecca nods, "I'm alright; I just need a little rest."
Standing close by, Alvin adds, "And some food would help."
Rebecca gives him a weary but affectionate glance, murmuring, "Alvin..."
Clementine and Y/N then walk over to Nick. Y/N, still harboring doubts about Nick, listens as he starts to open up.
Nick rubs the back of his neck, a distant look in his eyes. "I had to kill my mom. Sounds weird when I say it out loud, huh?" He chuckles mirthlessly, the weight of his confession hanging in the air.
Lost in his memories, he continues, "Luke was always pushing me. I never really wanted to go into business with him." Nick shakes his head, mimicking Luke's voice. "'Nick, we're burnin' daylight,'" he recalls, then returns to his normal tone. "Just like that, we were in it. We were broke six months later but having the time of our lives."
Y/N listens, the story painting a different picture of Nick, though skepticism lingers.
"I wish I could be like him, always moving, but that's just not me," Nick admits, his voice tinged with regret.
He then mimics Carlos in a mocking tone, "'Luke, he's becoming a danger to the group!'" Nick scoffs, returning to his voice, "That guy on the bridge, I thought he was a threat... maybe even with Carver."
In trying to offer a different perspective, Clementine mentions, "He seemed nice."
Nick exhales deeply, "Damn..." His expression says, "If Alvin were there, he would've taken the shot. What a mess. Maybe I am losing it."
He glances at his wrist, then sighs, "Damn, lost track of time. Left my watch back at the cabin. It was Pete's... all I had left of him."
After a moment, Nick stands, resolved, "I need to talk to them."
He strides away toward Carlos and Luke, leaving Y/N and Clementine behind. Y/N watches him go, the conversation offering some insight into Nick's struggles, yet the unease about his actions remains.
Y/N and Clementine peer through the station window before entering, curiosity piqued by the man's claim of ample food. "He said there was lots of food here. There's got to be something," she mutters while scanning the room.
Finding a locked trunk, she notes, "No key."
"He must've had it," Y/N concludes.
When she discovers a survival knife, she grips it, testing its weight. "Feels pretty good," she remarks, then uses it to pry open the trunk. Inside, among other items, are cans of peaches and a book titled 'The Wizard's Gambit' by Dierce Belman.
Y/N watches her handle the knife and teases, "Nice knife there, Clem. You sure you wouldn't rather have my axe instead?"
Clementine, playing along, chuckles. "I think I'll stick with the knife, thanks. You and your axe seem pretty attached."
Alvin enters the station, surveying the modest cache of supplies. "And I thought we had it rough. Look at this place. He did have food, huh? Man, fuck Nick for screwing this up."
He reflects on Nick's actions, "Nick's lost a lot, but that's no excuse for shooting strangers."
Clementine, trying to be fair, says, "Give him a break. His uncle just died."
Alvin nods, acknowledging, "Yeah, I suppose. I don't know how I'd cope if I lost Bec. It's just that... do you think that kind of thing is common now?"
Clementine hesitates, "I don't know."
Y/N, still feeling a mix of frustration and understanding towards Nick, adds, "Knowing Nick, he's a fucking dumbass, and I can't stand him, but it's not just him... A lot of people are snapping."
Clementine tugs at Y/N's sleeve, signaling him to lower his voice.
Alvin, trying to lighten the mood, shows Clementine the can of peaches. "Funny, this girl on the can looks just like you, Clem." He then shares his concerns about the limited food and prioritizing Rebecca and her unborn child.
Empathetic to the situation, Clementine and Y/N agree to keep the food secret. Alvin expresses gratitude, lamenting Nick's state and appreciating Clementine's presence.
Suddenly, the distant sound of an encroaching herd interrupts them. "Walkers," Clementine states, alerting the group.
Quickly, they regroup outside, where Alvin points out the looming threat. Having witnessed the approaching danger, Luke urges, "We need to move. Now."
- Now, At The Ski Lift -
Climbing a hill to the boarded-up lodge, you feel the weariness in your bones. Rebecca's impatience breaks the silence.
"Well? What are we waiting for?" she demands, scanning the large, imposing structure.
Carlos, ever cautious, advises, "We have to be careful."
Rebecca, frustration evident, retorts, "Careful? We've been on the road for five days. My back is done being careful."
Alvin surveys the lodge, noting its fortified appearance. "Doesn't look like anybody's home. Damn. It's all nailed down tight." He decides to investigate further, "I'll check around front."
Carlos agrees to accompany him, leaving you and the others momentarily.
Clementine, leaning against the railing, catches Luke's attention. He suggests, "It'd be good to know if anybody's actually back there. You'd probably get a better view from the top. Feel like taking a look? It'll be just like climbing a treehouse, you know, just a really tall treehouse. Made of steel. Best take Y/N with 'yer as well."
As the group eyes the towering structure, Clementine remarks to Luke, "I had a treehouse once."
Luke, trying to lighten the mood, responds, "Well, there you go."
But Clementine frowns, "I hated it."
Caught off guard, Luke mutters, "Oh."
You chime in, contrasting her sentiment, "I loved that treehouse."
Clementine turns to you, curious, "Why?"
"Because, if it weren't for that treehouse, I wouldn't have met you," you say earnestly.
Clementine looks at you, her eyes wide with a mix of surprise and appreciation. She is not used to such candidness. Luke chuckles at the heartfelt moment.
Approaching the ski lift, Luke advises, "Just take it slow, and I'll catch you if you fall. Probably."
You decide to climb first, ensuring a safer path for Clementine. "I'll head up and make sure it's all clear," you say, taking the lead on the ladder.
Clementine follows right behind you, ascending the ski lift together but with you a step ahead, always mindful of her safety. You both climb, with you constantly checking to ensure Clementine is secure as you both navigate the precarious ascent.
Climbing the ski lift, Luke asks, "Everyone okay up there?"
"Yeah," Clementine confirms, gripping tightly.
Luke reminisces, "Jumped rooftops as a kid. That was a thrill."
Clementine grimaces, "Sounds like a stupid way to break your neck."
Luke chuckles, "Yeah, it kinda was. Just don't look down."
Clementine's foot slips suddenly, "Ahh!"
You quickly reassure her, "Hey, don't sweat it, Clem. It's like the treehouse all over again... Just with less tree."
Luke adds, "You're fine, Clem. Focus here, not down. You got this."
Clementine shoots back, "You just said not to look!"
With a grin, Luke concedes, "...Good point."
With the two of you reaching the top, Clementine breathes, "Made it!"
Luke calls from below, "Anything up there?"
Scanning through the binoculars, Clementine spots the bridge; something catches her attention in the darkness. "Wait, there's something... Light!"
"What is it?" Luke's voice carries concern.
"There are lights... more than one," Clementine reports, alarmed.
You take the binoculars for a closer look, confirming, "Yeah, there are lights moving. I don't know who, but people are trailing us!" you shout down to Luke, emphasizing the potential danger.
But Luke, already concerned with an escalating situation below, doesn't hear you. He's sprinting toward a newly formed standoff unfolding with another group.
Clementine quickly follows him down the lift, and you're right behind her. Both are rapidly descending to join the group and confront the new challenge.
As the tension escalates, Luke attempts to alleviate the situation, "Listen, everyone, just stay calm."
A woman with a stern look questions aggressively, "Who are you? Are you trying to rob us?"
Rebecca, bristling with anger, fires back, "Excuse me, honey, but do I look like a fucking thief?"
A soft-spoken man tries to mediate, "Everyone, calm down."
Alvin, on edge, retorts sharply, "Hey, man, you calm the fuck down."
Protective and wary, Carlos instructs Sarah, "Get behind me."
The peacemaker among the strangers persists, "Just tell us who you are."
"We ain't here to rob nobody. Put the gun down, man," Alvin asserts, trying to lower the stranger's guard.
Then, a voice erupts from the other group, harsh and yet familiar, "Fuck that!"
Luke responds with alarm, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa."
The woman with the stern look pleads for compliance, "Please, just do what he says."
You feel a jolt of recognition and push through your group with Clementine to get a better look, your heart racing. As the figures become more apparent, you can't believe your eyes. There, standing defiantly...
Is Kenny.
The years seem to peel away as memories flood back: the adventures, the losses, the shared history. Seeing him alive is surreal, his familiar presence helping you ignore the chaos around you.
"Clementine... Y/N... Is that you?" Kenny's voice breaks through the confusion, softer now, tinged with disbelief.
It's him—really him—Kenny. Here he stands after nearly three years after all the roads traveled and the losses mourned. The shock of his presence momentarily overshadows the standoff, grounding you in a moment of unexpected reunion. The world seems to pause as you step forward, the past and present colliding in the gaze of an old friend.
"Kenny...?" You and Clementine call out in unison, not believing it's real, as you stare into Kenny's eyes, no actions being taken.
Luke, taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere, asks, "Wait, you know this guy?"
Clementine rushes forward to embrace Kenny, her actions speaking volumes of their past camaraderie.
Not to be left out, you follow suit, wrapping Kenny in a heartfelt hug, rekindling memories of survival, loss, and the bond forged in the crucible of a world gone mad.
Visibly moved, Kenny places a reassuring hand on Clementine's shoulder and glances at you, his expression a mix of surprise and relief.
The balding man observes the reunion, his earlier suspicion melting away, "I'll take that as a yes."
Kenny looks around the group, seeking confirmation, "These people with you?" You nod.
Kenny decides, "We can talk inside."
The balding man chimes in, "Great. I just started dinner."
Carlos, ever cautious, inquires, "Are you sure you don't mind?"
With a welcoming gesture, the balding man replies, "It's gonna storm soon. Please, come in."
The group, now somewhat eased by the hospitality, makes its way to the front of the lodge. You, Clementine, and Kenny lead the way, stepping into the lodge's refuge. The storm outside mirrors the tumult of emotions and memories stirred by the day's unexpected events.