Leon shook the thick black blood off the rebar. He didn't linger at the crash site. After identifying his bearings, he began the trek toward the quarry.
The enhancement from the Super Physique was all-encompassing. His leg muscles felt packed with explosive power. As he moved through the mountain forest, his speed far exceeded that of an ordinary person.
The rugged, uneven ground felt as level as a paved road. More importantly, his senses had sharpened to a razor's edge. The world was clearer than it had ever been.
Fifty meters to his front left, he heard the rustle of leaves. It wasn't the wind. It was the sound of a walker dragging its feet across the forest floor.
Eighty meters to the back right, crows pecked at something, the tearing sound distinct and unpleasant. He could easily distinguish between natural sounds and potential threats.
This allowed him to plan his route in advance, avoiding unnecessary trouble. He was a humanoid biological radar.
After moving through the woods for about an hour, the faint smell of diesel drifted into his nostrils. Leon paused.
He stopped behind a cluster of bushes on a hillside and pushed aside the branches. The view opened up to an abandoned quarry below.
Several cars and tents were scattered across the clearing, with an RV parked in a prominent spot. A few pieces of laundry swayed gently on a clothesline.
This was the camp. Leon's gaze swept over the perimeter. His brow furrowed.
The defenses were non-existent. No walls, no obstacles, nothing. The only lookout was an old man in a sun hat sitting atop the RV.
Dale. Leon recognized him immediately. The old man held binoculars, scanning the surroundings, but it was a fragile sort of vigilance.
If a small herd rushed in from any direction, this place would become a slaughterhouse in minutes. It was just a ragtag group of people surviving on pure luck.
Leon searched for Amy or Andrea, but he didn't see them. According to his memory, they should be in Atlanta scavenging for supplies.
He stepped out from the bushes, no longer hiding. Holding his blood-stained rebar, he walked down the gentle slope toward the camp.
"Hey! Someone's there!" Dale shouted from the roof of the RV.
The alarm broke the afternoon quiet. People emerged from tents and cars, their faces tight with panic.
"Don't panic! Stay where you are!" Shane rushed out from behind a pickup truck.
He gripped a shotgun, his expression fierce. He leveled the barrel directly at Leon's chest.
"Stop right there!" Shane's voice was raspy. "Put your hands up! Slowly!"
Leon stopped. He saw the wariness in Shane's eyes and the fear on the faces of the others.
He didn't want a misunderstanding. He bent down and placed the rebar on the grass, then raised his hands with his palms facing outward.
The excessive calmness of the gesture made Shane's scowl deepen.
"Who are you?" Shane asked, the muzzle of the shotgun steady. "Where did you come from?"
"My name is Leon." His voice was flat. Having a gun pointed at him didn't seem to register. "I'm looking for someone."
"Looking for someone?" Shane sized him up.
The kid looked no more than eighteen. He was too clean, aside from some dust on his jeans, and far too composed.
Appearing alone in the wilderness without a scratch was bizarre.
"You're alone?" Shane pressed, his distrust obvious. "There are walkers everywhere. How did you survive?"
"I'm looking for my girlfriend, Amy," Leon said, ignoring the question. "And her sister, Andrea."
The names caught Shane off guard, but he didn't lower the weapon. Suspicion only grew.
A teenager with zero visible gear crossing the corpse-strewn outskirts to find a specific camp felt like a lie.
Before Shane could continue the interrogation, a bone-chilling growl erupted from the woods behind Leon.
"Damn it!" Shane cursed.
Three walkers emerged from the tree line, drawn by the shouting. they lunged toward a woman on the edge of the camp.
"Ah!" She screamed, her legs giving out as she collapsed. The camp dissolved into chaos.
"Fire! Fire!" someone yelled.
Shane started to turn his gun, preparing to order a volley, but he was too slow.
Leon moved. His body tensed and launched forward like a leopard.
One second he was in front of Shane's gun; the next, he was a blurred afterimage streaking past him.
He scooped the rebar off the ground in one fluid motion without breaking stride.
The lead walker reached the woman, its mouth open. She closed her eyes, waiting for the bite. Instead, she heard a wet squelch.
She looked up to see the young man standing over her. He had driven the rebar up through the walker's jaw and into its brain.
Efficient. Clean. No wasted effort.
The other two walkers closed in from his flanks. Leon didn't even look at the first corpse as it fell.
He ripped the rebar out and spun. The heavy metal seemed weightless in his grip as it whistled through the air.
Crack!
The walker on the left had its knee shattered by the impact. It buckled, hitting the dirt.
Leon didn't stop the rotation. He swung the rebar upward, driving it through the temple of the third walker.
Another instant kill.
He turned back to the walker kneeling on the ground. He stepped forward and drove the rebar through its eye socket, ending the struggle.
The entire sequence took five seconds. The camp went silent.
The survivors stood frozen, as if a spell had been cast over them.
Shane's hand trembled slightly on the shotgun. His mouth was half-open, his throat working as he tried to find words.
His own combat experience and his pride as a former officer felt hollow. He had just witnessed a level of speed and violence that shouldn't be possible.
This wasn't a survivor who needed protection. This was a hunter.
Leon flicked the rebar, sending bits of brain matter onto the grass. He turned back to Shane.
"Now," Leon said, his calm voice cutting through the silence. "Can you take me in?"