Shane! Shane!

New chapter is live.

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

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But Evan did not reload.

He swung the Remington back over his shoulder.

The Stone Sledgehammer appeared in his hand again.

As a walker struggled up from the heap of bodies, Evan met it with one brutal swing.

After Strength reached its maximum, the chance of triggering a headshot effect had climbed almost as high as it could go.

One hammer blow was enough.

The walker's head burst apart.

There was a strange, crisp satisfaction to it, as if someone had planted a tiny explosive inside the skull.

Bone shattered into fragments, mixed with black blood, and slapped wetly across the wall.

"Rick, Shane, T-Dog. Melee weapons!"

Evan shouted the order.

All three men wore Heavy Tank Suits, and all three were strong enough to handle face-to-face fighting.

But when Evan's order landed, only Rick and T-Dog drew their machete and crowbar at once.

Shane stood frozen, eyes distant.

"Shane!"

Glenn looked back and shouted.

Only then did Shane jolt as if waking from a dream. He moved forward quickly, drew his machete, and took position beside Rick.

Evan saw it all.

He said nothing, only swung the hammer and crushed the walkers coming close.

"Last one!"

The final walker had barely entered reach before Evan smashed its skull apart.

"Whew."

His gaze swept over the pile.

"Same rule. Finish them and stack them."

Then Evan stepped onto the stairs and looked back.

"Handle the bodies. After that, clear the cafeteria and see if anything edible is still inside."

"I'll check the second and third floors for any walkers left behind."

He paused.

"Shane... you're with me."

Evan named him deliberately.

Everyone looked at Shane.

Shane followed Evan upstairs in a daze until both of them disappeared from view.

Only then did Glenn wipe blood from his chin with his wrist and move closer to Rick.

"This isn't going to go bad, is it?"

Glenn had been part of the Quarry camp from the beginning.

Before Rick arrived, Glenn had already run several supply runs under Shane's leadership.

He understood the man who had held power back then.

And Evan was not exactly gentle either.

Putting those two together felt dangerous.

Rick drew a breath.

"Evan's mercy runs deeper than his anger."

"They'll be all right."

"Don't forget what he said."

"Today, he's bringing everyone he took in here back out in one piece."

"And Evan keeps his promises."

Rick thought of the way Evan had treated Carl and Lori and chose to trust him without hesitation.

The second floor of the administration building appeared to be where the officers had rested.

Bunk beds stood in several rooms, along with empty offices.

First floor cafeteria, second floor quarters.

Close enough that guards on shift would not need to shuttle constantly between home and the Prison.

Evan walked in front with the hammer in hand.

Shane followed behind him, head lowered, still distant.

Neither of them spoke at first.

They moved through the quiet hallway until they reached the middle of the passage.

Evan glanced up without making it obvious.

The ceiling panels above them overlapped badly, not tight at all.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

His pace quickened.

The moment he passed through the middle of the hall, the ceiling came down.

Panels crashed loose one after another.

Rotten bodies dropped from above in a foul-smelling rain.

Two or three were only half bodies, their lower halves still caught above the ceiling like strips of meat left to dry.

They dragged themselves up and boxed Shane in.

Evan folded his arms and made no move to help.

He watched with interest.

If Shane's mind was gone, Evan would wake it up again.

The growls around Shane dragged him back from wherever his thoughts had gone.

Half a walker slapped down in front of him.

By instinct, Shane caught it like a flowerpot.

Even through the headgear, having a walker that close hit him hard.

His heart kicked, cold sweat soaking his back, and he threw it away.

"Fuck!"

When he looked up again, Evan stood in the distance, smiling mildly.

Just watching.

Not moving.

As if the walkers scattered across the hall had nothing to do with him.

'Damn it. Is Evan trying to let the walkers kill me?'

As the threat sharpened, Shane's dazed state cleared a little.

He tried to grab at his hair, a reflex against rising anxiety, but the helmet got in the way.

The walkers drove him backward into a corner.

He opened his mouth to call for the others.

Then something stopped him, and he closed it again.

'Maybe... maybe this is the better choice.'

Once Shane fully realized what he was thinking, his will to survive dropped into the dark.

The light went out of his eyes.

His hands slowly lowered to his sides, letting the walkers close in.

They came slowly, dragging hoarse sounds from ruined throats.

Their eyeballs were long gone. Blackened skin clung tight to the bones of their faces.

They were not as fast as Berserkers.

They only drifted closer, and somehow that made them worse.

Shane shut his eyes, but his breathing grew faster.

Through the visor, Evan could see his face reddening out of his control.

Adrenaline.

Evan watched him and understood.

'Still lying to yourself. Still can't face yourself?'

'If you truly wanted to die, why keep the Tank Suit on? Take it off, and one bite changes everything.'

'Shane does not want to die.'

'Survival is his instinct. He might be killed by a person or by walkers in a dozen different ways, but he will never die by simply surrendering.'

'Shane is still Shane.'

Sure enough, the moment a walker bit down on the surface of the Heavy Tank Suit, Shane's eyes snapped open.

His pupils shrank to pinpoints.

He ripped the machete free and drove it straight into the walker's open mouth, up through the brain.

Then he turned and chopped away most of the skull of the walker on his left.

Every move was heavy, as if he were pouring rage through his hands.

In half a minute, he had nearly destroyed the small group that had fallen from the ceiling.

Black walker blood dripped from the Tank Suit.

Shane circled behind the last walker, locked one arm around its neck, and shoved the flat of the machete into its mouth.

Then, with a slow, wet sound, he cut backward.

He did not ease up.

The body dropped.

Half a skull remained in Shane's hand, still snapping its teeth.

He held it there and turned to look at Evan.

What kind of look was that?

To Evan, it looked as if fire and life were being reborn in Shane's eyes through blood.

This was one of the hardest corners Shane had been forced into since the world fell.

And with only a machete, he had done something only top fighters could manage.

Of course he had.

He was Shane.

Shane carried the half skull to Evan and threw it at his feet.

"What the hell are you trying to do?"

His voice was low.

He had just come back from the edge of life and death. Blood, sweat, and ruthless momentum clung to him.

His arm shook slightly, but his grip on the machete was iron tight.

The look in his eyes could make a man believe Shane might swing in the next second.

"What can I do?"

Evan stepped forward instead of back, closing the distance between them.

"I just wanted to see a clear-headed Shane."

Through the visor of the Heavy Tank Suit helmet, Evan stared straight into his eyes.

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