Training Ends

New chapter is live.

Settle in, take your time, and let's see what waits in the dark 🖤

✦

"Not bad," Evan said, smiling at Carl. "Look at you. Almost presentable."

Carl flushed, then frowned.

"What do you mean almost? I always look like this."

Evan snorted, laughed, and wiped at the corner of his eye before forcing his expression straight again.

"All right. Enough. Go put on the gear I prepared. We keep training."

Carl looked where Evan pointed.

In the corner lay a Primitive Bow. Beside it sat a leather quiver holding roughly twenty crude wooden arrows.

Evan had crafted it after the magazine raised his Bow Crafting skill to Lv. 5.

It was not a high-damage weapon, but it was enough for Carl.

Compared with firearms, arrows suited him too. Quiet, light, and easier for a smaller body to carry for long stretches.

If it did not work out, they could switch him to something else after they reached the Prison.

When Carl finished putting everything on, Evan gave an approving nod.

The armor covered most of him, leaving part of his right arm and shirt exposed for movement. The bow and quiver sat across his back, making him look taller and leaner than before.

Evan added a dark wrist guard to Carl's right hand.

Now the equipment looked complete.

They went downstairs. The red brute sat parked across the street. Evan and Carl climbed in, and Evan drove toward the highway.

The highway was quiet after the horde had passed through.

A few walkers still wandered among the abandoned vehicles, but most of the dead had been pulled away with the larger mass.

"A Primitive Bow isn't complicated," Evan said. "It doesn't take as much strength as people think. The hard part is accuracy."

"You haven't learned archery, so we start with the basics."

He pointed toward a walker shambling toward them in the distance.

"Five steps. Grip, nock, draw, aim, release."

"Hold the bow a little below center. Keep the pressure steady. Too much force or too little will throw the arrow off."

"Nock the arrow cleanly. This bow's draw weight should match the arrows..."

Evan explained each piece of the motion in detail.

The bow was not a crossbow. It lacked the same raw force and was harder to use well.

But it was lighter and more mobile, which made it a good fit for Carl's smaller frame.

"Slow your breathing. Adjust the angle for distance. Don't be afraid to miss. Walkers are the best practice targets you're going to get."

Evan leaned close to Carl's ear and quietly adjusted the line of the arrow.

The string twanged.

The arrow struck the walker in the eye socket.

It dropped.

"A bow won't punch through bone as easily as a crossbow," Evan said. "But if you use weak points--eyes, mouth, ear, throat--you can still kill walkers."

"Against living people, the heart, kidneys, knees, tendons, and inner thigh matter too."

"Hit the right place, and you can take away someone's ability to fight in seconds."

Evan narrowed his eyes.

Carl answered softly, "I understand."

Then he began practicing on his own.

At first his arrows struck awkwardly, burying themselves in walker chests or shoulders.

By that afternoon, he was landing shots through the mouth.

Evan and Carl worked together along the highway, killing the scattered walkers left behind by the horde.

By the seventh day, an arrow cut through the drizzle and buried itself through a walker's ear canal, piercing the brain.

"Evan," Carl said, pointing ahead, "that's where we hid from the horde."

Evan followed his finger.

There was a cleared patch of ground ahead, likely the place Rick's group had opened up when they first reached the highway.

Not far from it sat a vehicle loaded with unopened water jugs.

Shane had found it first, but after the horde, no one had come back to retrieve it. Camp already had food and water, and risking a long trip for more had not seemed worth it.

Evan took the opportunity.

He moved every jug into the isolated water compartment at the rear of the fire truck. Then he siphoned gasoline from several abandoned vehicles and filled the truck's tank.

Only after that did they keep moving.

About two miles later, the wrecks thinned out. Another half mile beyond that, Evan spotted a white box truck that had crashed through the highway guardrail.

His eyes lit up.

He walked around to the back. The cargo doors were locked tight.

Evan made a hand signal to Carl.

After seven days, they understood each other well.

Carl nodded, drew the bow, and aimed toward the cargo box.

Evan raised the Stone Sledgehammer and brought it down on the chain.

Clang.

The sound rang across the highway.

The chain dropped.

Evan grabbed the handles and yanked the doors open.

Nothing rotten lunged out.

Instead, plastic packages tumbled free in a noisy spill.

Snack cakes poured onto the pavement in ridiculous little waves.

Evan stared, then laughed and picked up one package, checking the date on the back.

"Industrial food," he said, grinning. "Ugly miracle of civilization."

"All these days later, and it's still edible."

He tore one open and handed it to Carl, then opened one for himself.

The first bite brought sweet cream and a faint vanilla note.

"Vanilla."

"Mine's... strawberry," Carl said, mouth already full.

Neither of them had tasted anything like it in far too long.

They brought the fire truck over and loaded every snack cake into the rear compartment to take back with them.

Once Evan settled into the driver's seat, he finally relaxed and let out a long breath.

"Do you remember what day it is, Carl?"

"Day seven," Carl said, eyes shining. "Right?"

"That's right."

Evan smiled.

"We're going back to camp."

"Back to camp!"

Carl lifted the bow with one hand and let out a cheer.

Training was over.

At last, Carl could see Lori and Rick again.

The only question was how badly the two of them had been worrying after seven full days.

✦

✦

✦

Want to keep going?

You can read ahead on my Patreon, with early access, previews, and extra story updates 🔑

https://www.patreon.com/c/EliasVane