Day One: Clearing the Administration Building

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Evan asked Rick for the Remington.

Yes, that Remington.

One of the weapons they had brought out of Atlanta.

The Remington Model 870 was reliable, durable, and old enough to have earned its reputation.

It was a famous American shotgun, the kind of weapon people liked to call the AK-47 of pump-actions.

The one now in Evan's hands was a variant of the 870 line.

The Remington 870P.

P for Police.

Seven plus one capacity, close to the top of the line for that setup.

The moment Evan picked it up, he did not want to put it down.

He had once believed a real man met walkers head-on with melee weapons.

Now he had a broader view of manhood.

Sometimes a real man carried the great equalizer.

Even a walker without a trace of human reason had to bow to the truth of buckshot at close range.

Because of the sudden Apocalypse Quest, Evan felt better having insurance.

The shotgun hung across his back.

The Lv. 5 Stone Sledgehammer rested on his shoulder.

For the moment, Evan felt almost unfairly strong.

"Move out."

His low command tightened every face behind him.

The fighters wore their combat gear and carried firearms, blades, axes, and whatever else they trusted in their hands.

Armor shifted and rasped as they followed him, the sound almost like a small army moving out.

"Evan, I want to go too..."

Carl's pitiful voice came from behind him just as Evan reached the wire gate.

The boy appeared from nowhere, somehow breaking through Lori's line of defense, and latched onto Evan's leg with both arms.

"Carl, your parents may treat you like a kid. I won't."

"Did you forget what I taught you?"

Evan looked down at the small attachment clinging to his leg.

Carl looked wronged, but he repeated the lesson.

"Don't ignore the group's decision and run off on your own. It can make everyone pay a bigger price."

Roughly phrased, but close enough.

Seeing Carl's disappointment, Evan decided to give him something.

He took the chain key from Glenn and placed it in Carl's hand.

"Fine. Since you're asking for responsibility, I'll give you an extremely important mission."

Evan made his voice heavy on purpose.

Carl's face changed at once. He lifted his head, eyes bright, as if Evan had started glowing.

"The main fighters are going inside to clear walkers and build a future for the group."

"Your job is to guard the only key that lets us in and out of the Prison."

"When the time is right, you open the gate to the road back to life."

"Can you do that?"

"Yes!"

Carl's face turned solemn, as if he had received an order from the highest command.

Under everyone's eyes, he used all his strength to pull the gate open for them.

The moment Evan stepped into the Prison, he gave the silent command in his mind.

'Accept quest.'

The huge exclamation mark floating above the Prison vanished.

In some quiet way, the entire compound seemed to change.

After Evan led the others in, Merle moved up beside him with a nasty little grin.

"Ward, you think it's right to trick a kid like that?"

"What's wrong with it?"

Evan glanced at him.

"I promised Lori Carl wouldn't get hurt. I keep my word."

Rick was walking beside Evan and heard the exchange.

He said nothing, but he nodded silently to himself.

If Rick, who could lead the camp, had to choose someone else to lead him, Evan would be the first name.

No competition.

Everyone had seen what changed after Evan appeared.

They had only advanced a few steps, not fully inside yet, when several familiar black-armored figures moved out from behind the building.

They had seen plenty of walkers with skin and meat still hanging on them.

Fully armed walkers were new.

"Glenn."

Evan called the name, then rushed forward.

He did not aim for the gaps in their helmets.

He did not need weak points.

With one hand, he grabbed a walker's body armor by the collar, lifted the whole thing, and slammed it hard onto the ground.

He planted a foot on the helmet and twisted.

Crack.

A small, crisp sound rang out, and the walker stopped moving.

Evan backhanded the next one with the hammer.

Its skin clung tight to the helmet as the helmet spun twice.

The second walker dropped too.

Clean.

Fast.

Decisive.

That was Evan.

"Keep the armor. Clean it later, and we can use it."

Evan gave the order and looked up.

Glenn had already dragged the rear metal mesh gate shut and locked it.

At least a hundred walkers swayed on the other side. By the time they noticed Glenn, it was too late.

Standing still, Evan looked left, then right.

The original story had never explained the entire Prison clearly.

It had only shown what the plot needed.

From what Evan could see, the building on the left was a three-story structure with no wire covering it.

The building on the right was a tall, squat mass of rough concrete, much darker and more oppressive.

Every entrance and exit on that side had a locked metal door, and it was almost entirely separated from the left building.

Only on the second floor did a square, cage-like overhead passage connect the two.

"The left-hand building should be the administration area," Evan said. "Offices, guards, warden, paperwork."

"It's daytime. Weather's clear. Plenty of light."

"Clearing administration first is probably the best choice."

He thought for a few seconds, then headed decisively toward the left building.

As he walked, he spoke to the people behind him.

"I go first. You keep fifteen feet between you and me."

"The administration building isn't huge. Today's goal is to clear the whole thing and leave no walkers inside."

"Watch your feet, the ceiling, and every half-open door."

"Any one of them can have a walker behind it, mouth open, waiting for dinner to deliver itself."

By then, Evan had reached the front entrance.

He stopped on the steps and turned back to the group.

"I brought you in today, and I intend to bring all of you back out."

"So remember. Fifteen feet."

He turned and kicked the administration door open.

Then he strode inside.

Without power, the building looked dim even in daylight.

Desks, chairs, and benches lay overturned. Files and copy paper were scattered across the floor.

Evan looked down.

His boots pressed into a thick layer of dust, and a heavy, stale odor pushed against his nose.

"Good place," he said. "Wasted on walkers."

He sniffed.

Under the dust was rot.

Human rot.

The kind of stench ordinary people were built to reject, deep in the blood and deeper than thought.

So the moment Evan stepped inside, he knew something was wrong.

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